She stops walking and crosses her arms. I stop, too and take a quick glance at the perfect, small br**sts that she’s unknowingly plumping. Equations, PowerPoint presentations, product testing.
"Look, Jake," she says, looking serious, "you caught me by surprise yesterday, about a person I haven't thought about in a long time, but I'm okay. You don't need to check up on me anymore. My life is fine. It's not exciting, it's not glamorous. But I have everything I need. I'm, um, happy."
I run my hand through my hair wondering at why her statement ended up sounding like a question. I tuck away the comment about her not thinking about me in a long time. It stings.
"I just thought maybe you looked a little upset when you left yesterday. And I did that to you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay today, not in general, but today."
She glances over at me, pulling herself up straighter. "I was fine yesterday. I don't like to hear about anyone meeting a tragic end, even someone I don't know anymore." She frowns slightly and pauses but then goes on, "But it's nothing that a little ice cream won't take care of. That's where I'm headed. Want to follow me to the grocery store? One last stalking for old time's sake?" She winks.
Despite the fact that her words hurt and I’m becoming more and more sure that she let me go a long time ago, I rally and laugh at her joke. I’m here now. I’m here now.
"I don't think it's stalking if I get an invitation, but yes, I'd love to accompany you to the store."
She looks over at me and puts a hand to her chest, looking up at me through her lashes. "I don't know if I'm ready for this huge jump in status," she teases. "From stalker to chaperone in a day? You'll think I'm easy!"
God, she’s cute. "Just lead the way, smart ass," I say. And then, before I even really think about it, I grab her hand. This whole situation is just so familiar and she’s bringing feelings up in me that I thought I remembered perfectly but that I realize now were only memories in black and white. Reality is so overwhelming that I can barely keep up with everything I’m feeling. It’s as if all my emotions for her are in living color now and coursing through my body at light speed. I’m home.
She jolts slightly though and pulls her hand away, reaching into her purse for her sunglasses and then popping them on and putting her hands on her purse strap so that I can’t reach for her again. Damn. I spooked her. Slow down.
"So," she says, "What does your father's company do?"
I tell her a little bit about my company and how I started working with my father and then moved to the Ohio office when it started to suffer. And because you’re here, Evie.
She nods as we turn the corner onto the block where the grocery store is. "Your father must trust you a lot to give you responsibility for such a big task so quickly," she says.
I feel myself stiffen at her words. This is still such a hard subject for me. "I never gave him much reason to trust me. But he actually passed away almost a year ago, six months before I moved here."
She’s quiet for a beat and then I feel her small hand grab mine and my heartbeat picks up as she grins up at me. "I'm just glad you had something to fall back on after the crash and burn of your short-lived creepster career." She bats her eyelashes.
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. She was always so good at getting me to laugh at myself when I was in one of my moods and she still is. I’ve missed her so damn much. I want to tell her so badly, but I know I can’t. Not yet.
We walk into the store and grab a cart and I watch her shamelessly as she selects items, trailing along behind her like a lovesick puppy dog. I’m fine with that. Several men do double takes as she walks by, completely oblivious. I have a quick vision of myself tackling them into a large display of cereal boxes; pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers turning into colored chalk beneath their faces as I slam them into the tiled floor. Magically delicious carnage. I snap out of it as we turn in to the ice cream aisle.
"What flavor do you like," I ask, opening the freezer door.
"Butter pecan," she says, opening a freezer door a couple down from where I’m standing.
I peruse the choices quickly and pull out a carton of butter pecan at the same time she pulls out the same flavor of another brand.
"Why that one?" I ask. "This one is twice the price. It's gotta be the best." I hold up my choice.
She shakes her head, "It's not about price, Jake. This one is the World's Greatest Ice Cream. Look, it says so right on the carton." She’s completely serious.
I look between the two. "Evie, you do know that they can say whatever they want to on the package, right? It doesn't mean it's true."
She doesn’t blink. "Well, see, you're right. But you're also wrong. I think that ninety-five percent of knowing you're the greatest is all about confidence. You might suspect you're the greatest, you might hope you're the greatest, but if you don't have the balls to proclaim yourself the greatest in bold packaging, and let your critics test you if they dare, then you probably aren't the greatest. Who can resist the guy who really, truly believes in himself?"
She throws the ice cream in the cart, turns, and starts walking down the aisle as I stare after her. And that’s it. If I wasn’t before, I’m ruined for life. Hopelessly. In. Love. The girl is it for me. Yeah, ruined. Happily ruined, standing smack dab in the middle of the ice cream aisle.