It was a question he wasn’t prepared to answer.
“Evan?” she prompted, when several seconds had passed and he hadn’t answered yet.
How could he tell her he was sleeping in his office without sounding like a pitiful loser? Even though it made perfect sense to him because he wasn’t sure he’d be sticking around long and he didn’t want to commit to a yearlong lease of an apartment or condo when he might be gone in a month, saying the truth right out loud to Meredith was embarrassing at best.
But there was no way around it without sounding as if he didn’t want her to know where he lived.
Which, of course, he didn’t.
“If you drop me on the next corner I can just take the El.”
Meredith slowed the car and turned to look at him, her left eyebrow raised. “You want me to drop you off so you, looking like that—” she made a point of looking him over “—can simply get on public transportation, frightening old ladies and small children and possibly passing out and spending the night riding aimlessly from station to station until you finally bleed to death.”
He gave a half smile. “You make that sound like it’s a bad idea.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Evan, pony up. What’s the address?”
He hesitated a moment, then gave it.
She started to drive, then stopped, pulled the car over and put the transmission in park. “That’s the office.”
He nodded. “That’s true.”
“Are you trying to avoid telling me where you live, for some reason?”
He shook his head. “No, I was trying to avoid telling you where I live, for the simple reason that I know it sounds odd, but now you’ve forced it out of me.”
“You live at the office.”
“At the moment, yes.”
“Are you serious?”
“Don’t I look serious?”
“You look frightening.”
He gave a concessionary nod. “That’s serious.”
She gripped the wheel and looked straight ahead without moving. Finally she said, “I’m going to have to take you to my house.”
Evan gave a laugh. “You are taking this way, way too seriously. Look, just take me back to the office. I’ll go clean up, slap a bandage on and be fine. Honestly, Mer, I’ve been in worse condition than this before. I know what I’m talking about.”
Something passed between them. Whether it was surprise at his use of the old nickname, Mer, or horror at having to deal with such an indelicate situation, or simply irritation at realizing how many calls she was going to have to make to cancel credit cards, checks and so on, Evan wasn’t sure.
But it sure felt. familiar.
“Evan,” she said. “I think I can actually see your cheekbone through that cut.”
“Oh, come on.”
“God knows what I’ll see in good light.” She took a short breath, put the car back in gear and merged into the traffic on Lake Shore Drive. “We can clean you up at my place,” she said. “If it still looks as awful as I think it’s going to, I’m going to make you go to the hospital.”
He knew it wouldn’t, so it was an easy thing to agree to. “Fair enough.”
“Okay.” She drove on, and he watched her from his convenient vantage point beside her. She had to keep her eyes on the road, so he could study her profile as closely as he wanted, for as long as he wanted.
So he did.
“What are you looking at?” she asked almost immediately, glancing sideways at him.
“You,” he answered softly.
“I know that. Why?”
He shifted his weight in the seat, trying to get more comfortable. “Why do you think? Because I used to know your face better than I knew my own and seeing it again after all these years is fascinating.”
She shook her head. “The aging process in action.”
“You’re not aging, you’re maturing—”
She scoffed.
“Now, wait a minute, you didn’t let me finish. You’ve matured from a cute girl into a really beautiful woman,” he said, meaning every single word of it.
In fact, he meant it more than he could say. And the realization of what he’d missed the past twelve years hit him fully, like a blow to the gut. He should have been with her through all the changes. He should have been the shoulder she cried on when her father died; he should have seen her blow out the candles on her twenty-first birthday cake; he should have been the one to put those first faint smile lines around her eyes.
There was so much he should have done for her. And with her.
So much that could never be regained.
“You’re a really, seriously beautiful woman, Meredith,” he found himself saying. “In every way.”
Even in the dark of the car, he could tell her pale Irish skin had pinkened several shades. She tipped her head down—a gesture he’d seen her make a thousand times—so her veil of chestnut hair hid her face, at least from where he was sitting now.
“I don’t know what to say, Evan.”
“It’s a pretty standard compliment,” he said. “‘Thanks’ would do. Or nothing. Nothing would do, too.”
She gave a half laugh. “Thanks.”
He smiled to himself. A few weeks ago, he’d had no idea he’d ever see Meredith Waters again. Then, when he first did, their interaction had filled him with dread and residual adolescent awkwardness.
But tonight something had changed.
Or maybe something had clicked into place.
Because until he’d gotten punched in the face, he’d thought he and Meredith were going to be these strange semiacquainted former lovers—until he left and she would thank the good Lord he was finally gone.
Now … it was hard to describe. But now he felt like something inside him was complete again.
Evan stayed lost in his thoughts as they drove through the familiar-yet-unfamiliar streets of his childhood. It was odd, but he still knew the timing exactly. Left on Travilia Road, left again onto Denton, bear right onto Farm Ridge, then turn left onto.
Village Crest Avenue.
Was he hallucinating?
“Meredith, where are you going?” he asked, feeling the beginnings of alarm in his chest.
“My house.”
Well, yeah. Her house. Sure. He’d been there hundreds of times. He’d known the answer even before he asked the question. But the thing was, he knew it wasn’t her house anymore. She’d grown up, graduated from high school, graduated from college, moved on with her life.
So clearly, either she meant something else or he was dreaming.
For a crazy second he actually wondered what year it was. The song on the radio was an old one, so that didn’t help. The houses, well, they all looked the same. So that didn’t help, either.
“Who’s the president?” he asked stupidly.
“The president of what?”
“The United States?”
“What?”
He swallowed. It was a dumb question. He wasn’t