“Evangeline, have you lo—” I end the call, not giving him a chance to reply.
After I ended the call with my father, I open the door and head downstairs. If there’s one way I know how to demonstrate how sorry I am, it’s through my cooking. As my feet hit the bottom of the staircase, unlocking the barrier between us, I keep praying Adam’s not here yet. When I call out his name and he doesn’t answer, I do a happy little dance in my mind. I enter the kitchen, open the gigantic fridge and grab all the ingredients. I remember one of Evelyn’s entries where she wrote how Adam’s favourite dessert is brownies, and how she wishes she had the slightest clue about cooking. There’s a difference between Evelyn and I because if there’s one thing I know I’m actually good at, it’s baking, and brownies just happen to be my favourite.
Chapter 16
I woke up with my arms sore, probably because of staying in the kitchen for about two hours last night. After one hour of mixing up the ingredients, placing the tray in the oven and pulling it out at the smell of the freshly baked brownies, I spent another hour doing one of my least favourite house chores: washing the dishes.
After decorating the brownies with chocolate chips, which I arranged to form the word ‘sorry’, I sat down on the chair in the dining table with my head heavily laid on my arms as I patiently waited for Adam’s arrival back home. Even though I don’t remember exactly when he came back into the house, all I know is that it was really late. As humiliating as it sounds, I fell asleep before he made it past the front door. I remember how he gently shook my shoulders, interrupting my dreams so that I can go upstairs to sleep comfortably in my bed; I remember how his expression softened when he saw my piece of art that was lying in front of me on the table, and I remember how the drowsiness fled me when I was aware that he finally returned.
Instead of listening to his pleads for me to go upstairs and continue resting, I sat there with him for about two hours talking. Our conversation kept running over and over in my mind as my body is currently all stretched out on my bed. When we both said goodnight, I headed to my bedroom and kept thinking until the dark clouds gradually turned into a shade of light blue. Needless to say, I couldn’t sleep.
“I’m really sorry.” I push the tray to his side of the table with an apologetic expression on my face, hoping he’d really forgive me.
He lets out a laugh as he stares at the sweet chocolate fudge in front of him, “I already told you: there’s nothing to feel sorry about.” His hand grabs the knife and cuts through the whole thing, “But I have to say I’m glad you still felt guilty, otherwise you wouldn’t have made me the second thing that is most capable of making me happy.”
“What’s the first?” I ask, failing at not sounding too curious.
“Evelyn.” He looks away as he states in such a sad voice, “But I can’t have her now.”
My heart pounds in my chest, and awkwardness crawls into me as I fail to come up with a reply, but, thankfully, he changes the subject immediately. “So…” A playful smile plasters onto his face as he asks, “Is it just a coincidence you cooked my favourite dessert, or does Evelyn’s diary have something to do with it?”
Heat crawls up to my cheeks, and I hate that I know that I’m blushing, but I give him an honest reply. “She mentioned it in there somewhere.”
He picks up the piece he separated from the others before his teeth sink into its corner. He begins to chew the pieces slowly. “What the hell? This tastes like heaven!”
An involuntary smile steadily starts appearing on my face at the compliment. “Well I’m glad you like them.”
“Evelyn never knew how to cook; we always ordered food whenever she came by,” he states.
“Yeah, I know; she mentioned it in her diary too. Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” He stretches his legs onto the floor as he pushes his back into the chair.
“Where were you?” I blurt, praying God that he wouldn’t take the wrong idea by my question.
“Earlier, I stopped by a place that takes in damaged cars because I didn’t want neither the media nor a neighbour to show up at my house asking questions about what happened to my car, so I got rid of it,” he demonstrates before continuing, “A few hours ago, I went to the house of Daniel- my bestfriend- because his twin brother just passed away yesterday.”
“I’m sorry for his loss.” My heart aches for a man I don’t even know, but I can’t imagine how it must feel like to lose someone as close as a twin.
His mood dampens, and I try to think of something to say to avert the topic, but what comes out of my mouth wasn’t anything I was actually planning to say, and I can’t help but feel beyond embarrassed by my question. “Are you dating anyone now?”
“No.” He huffs out a breath as his eyes deeply explore mine, “I haven’t dated anyone since the accident.”
My heart seems to sink at his answer- maybe because I feel guilty for running around with Adrien while he had no one but himself.
“Why not? It’s almost been five years.”
“I’ve tried- if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve gone out with several girls, but after the first time I’d meet any of them, I’d turn them down.” He rushes a hand through his
