Falling In (2 page)

Evangeline

After I quite possibly humiliated myself in front of perfection—also known as Jake—we went outside to see what kind of mess the kids got into. Lo and behold, the twins were covered in mud, turning my yard into the mud pit at Lollapalooza. But looking at Ben, whom was so timid at first, was now laughing and running with them. Seeing mud plastered all over his once clean white shirt and plaid shorts made this disaster that is my yard totally worth it. Jake and I watch for a few minutes, smiling and shaking our heads. Then, as if we were telecommunicating, both of us look at each other—him, silently thanking me and me nodding graciously. Then with a tilt of my head and a nod from him, I grab the hose off the grass and go to town.

Time to end these shenanigans
. I begin to spray all three kids as they scream and giggle, rolling back and forth on the grass, erasing the mud that was thoroughly caked on their precious yet devious little faces. Finally, after about five minutes of spraying, they are marginally okay to enter the house again. I quickly run back inside and upstairs to get towels for all of them. Once I come back down, I hand one to each kid, insisting they dry off before actually coming inside the house.

After the twins say their goodbyes with high fives, I send them inside to clean up. But before I follow, I tell Jake to come by at five-thirty for dinner. With a smile and a nod, he and Ben head back to their house. I stand there watching, lingering like some weirdo for a minute before making my way back inside my own house. Shutting the door, I slide down to the floor, heart racing like it’s running a full-on marathon.

Shit. Who is this guy? And what the eff am I doing?

I shake my head and take a deep breath.
In through the nose, out the mouth.
Yes, I know I do that a lot. The by-product of years of therapy and yoga.
Two of the reasons I am not a whack job
. And with my history, I am still surprised I am somewhat normal. But now—now, I need to make sure the kids aren’t busy wreaking havoc upstairs and figure out what the mother eff I am making for my last-second dinner party.

I need to call Cole.

Cole
—yes, my sexy life partner.
Do not think of our neighbor
. That might become my new mantra, ‘cause damn, that man is sex dipped into chocolate with a dollop of whipped cream.
Mmmm, Jake and whipped cream.

Double shit.
Do not think of our neighbor
.

Cole, I most definitely need to call Cole.

“Hey babe, did you go over and meet the neighbors? Please tell me they’re under the age of thirty-five, and possibly cool! Is that too much to ask?” I can hear the hope in his voice. I think he needs another friend. I mean, I know I am awesome, but he definitely needs some more male companionship.

Laughing at my sexy nerd of a man, I ease his worries. But not so much mine. “He is in fact around our age. Thank God. I don’t know how old, though. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger, so I don’t think he’s married, either.” I answer before Cole asks. I knew that would be his next question. “He does, however, have a kid. Well—it’s actually his sister’s. She died eight months ago. Not sure how, but from the look on his face when he mentioned her, I am pretty sure the hurt is still fresh.”

Cole continues to grill me on our new, scorching hot neighbor. I did not tell him how hot he is, although Cole did ask. I simply downplayed Jake’s hotness, reassuring Cole that no one comes close to my man. Which isn’t a total lie. Cole is drop dead gorgeous in his own right. His short blond hair is a little long on top. Paired with bright blue eyes that shine when he looks at me and the kids. Those eyes of his are so full of love and laughter, they make me smile every day. And hot damn, is he
built
. Not lean, like Jake. More muscles stretch out his shirts in just the right way. He’s tight and toned, with a tapered waist that I love to wrap my arms around. Speaking of arms, his are covered in striking body art. Symbols of our love and our children proudly adorn his flawless body. He puts most men to shame.
Don’t even get me started on what he has downstairs
. I could quite possibly talk about the tool he’s working with for hours. I mean, seriously, the man is packing. His cock is what sex dreams are made of.
And yes, his cock is all mine, thank you very much
.

So why, might you ask, if I have this Adonis-like man whom I truly love, can’t I get my damn neighbor—with those mint green eyes that show a masked, kindred agony—out of mind?
Good question.

I have no fucking clue.

It’s early May, and blue skies blanket our eclectic city with rays of beautiful sunshine, radiating welcome warmth in our humble backyard. Taking advantage of this, we decide to barbeque. Cole brought home rib-eye steaks and buns for the kids’ turkey burgers. I’m in the kitchen, busy making pasta salad and cutting up various fruit while sipping my hefty glass of sangria, when I hear the knock at the door. In unison, the twins run toward the door and yank it open, ushering in our guests. They each grab one of Ben’s hands and run out back, towing Ben along with them.

Jake stands at the door, staring at the kids for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face and our eyes collide. We hold the gaze for what seems like a lifetime: him still standing in the doorway, me a good five feet away in the living room. Time seems to stand still, and everything fades away but this moment. Both of us are smiling, neither one of us willing to sever whatever this is. I nervously bite down on my lip, and his once mint green eyes darken a shade and zero in on my mouth, until a familiar voice abruptly breaks the contact.

              “You must be Jake. I’m Cole, Evie’s other half. Welcome to our house of crazies!” Cole ends with a chuckle, offering his hand to Jake. After Jake accepts, Cole’s arms return to wrap around my shoulders.

              “Nice to meet you. Thanks for inviting us. I wasn’t expecting any of this. I’m usually an ignore-neighbors-maybe-wave-hello-in-the-morning-before-work type of guy. But Evangeline here is pretty damn persuasive.” He looks back to me and offers a friendly, platonic smile.
Smart man
.

              “Ha. That she is. You have no idea. This woman can bring any man to his knees with just a fucking look. Trust me, I know from experience.” He grunts as I elbow him in is impeccably hard stomach. He turns and heads toward the refrigerator to grab what I assume are beers.

              “
I can believe it
,” Jake whispers to himself. I’m not sure I was meant to hear it, but alas, I did. He glances back at me once more before heading over to Cole to grab a beer. They both go outside to the grill to talk man-talk, I suppose, whilst I have a ginormous gulp of my wine and then take a deep breath.
In through the nose. Out the mouth.

After we finish dinner, we decide to put a movie on for the kids so we can talk without having to scream over all of the ruckus that a seven and two six-year olds can create. All three of us sit at the turquoise picnic bench I scored from a garage sale and refurbished three years ago. Each of us is facing one another, making a triangle of sorts. Alcohol is passing quite freely between us. The guys are on their fourth and fifth beers, me on my second glass of my oh-so-yummy sangria. We decide on playing a friendly game of twenty questions. It’s the easiest way to get to know someone quickly. 

              “How long have you two been together?” Jakes asks while taking a long pull of his beer and looking between the two of us.

I decide to answer this one. “In a way, we’ve been together since the first day of first grade. He’s always been my best friend.” I look over at Cole and smile up at him with nostalgia, gratitude, and a twinge of sadness, my eyes expressing my unconditional love for him. He smiles back knowingly and winks. “But we technically didn’t get together until seventh grade—”

              “That’s when she got boobs!” Cole interrupts. I punch him in his ogre-sized arm.

“Shut it and let me finish our great love story! So, it was the beginning of seventh grade and well, Cole was right, I did get boobs over the summer, albeit a bit small, l but I was still looking mighty fine.” Cole looks at Jake pointedly and nods up and down like a moron.
Men
. “I was at my locker with my boobs and the rest of my banging body when David Lee—super hottie, by the way—asked me to go to the fall dance. I, of course, said yes. I wasn’t stupid—I did have eyes. Plus, no one had ever asked me out before. Well, news travels fast, and it got to Cole around third period gym class. The ogre that is now my man attacked poor David Lee, giving him a black eye and split lip. I was mortified. Cole was suspended for a week.

“After school, I hiked the five miles to his house, climbed the tree by his window, and snuck into his room. Something I had done a million times before. I demanded he tell me why he would do such a thing to poor David Lee. Cole looked at me like I was an idiot, and then said the sexiest and most amazing words I have ever heard: ‘Because I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine!’ That’s when I tackled him to the ground and kissed him like my life depended on it. I’ll let you in on a little secret, one that even Cole doesn’t know.”

I glance at Cole, who is staring at me with intrigue and confusion. I smirk. “See, Jakey boy, what my Cole here doesn’t know is that I have loved him since the second day of first grade. When he noticed I didn’t have any lunch, he gave me his.” I smile to myself, remembering how even at six years old, I knew this boy was special. “But it wasn’t until that exact moment when David Lee asked me to the dance when I concocted my little plan. You see, I didn’t really like David Lee. Yes, he was eye candy, but he was kind of a douche and a bit stupid. But I knew that if Cole found out I was going to the dance with him, he would be furious and hopefully be forced to finally reveal his feelings for me. And of course being the brilliant woman that I am, I was right!” I smile triumphantly at Jake, then my beloved.

              “You scheming little minx!” Cole gasps and pretends to be appalled, and we all burst out laughing. As the laughing subsides, we continue the game.

              “So, you said you attacked Cole and kissed him senseless. Was that your first kiss?” Jake looks at me with an emotion I can’t quite place.

              “Cole was my first
everything
. And for the most part, my only.” Cole and I look at each other for a brief moment, understanding the mixed bag of emotions of that statement.

              Somehow sensing my dark thoughts, Jake gives me a reprieve and turns the tables onto Cole, letting me take a deep breath to push back those memories, shove them into that box deep down into my soul, lock it up and toss the key.
In through the nose. Out the mouth.

              “So Cole, you coach baseball, does that mean you used to play?”
Well, shit
.

              I turn to Cole to gage his mood. He looks okay. Feeling my eyes on him, he looks at me and nods with a small smile. I nod back. Our silent way of asking each other if we’re okay.
We are
.

              “I played baseball since as far back as I can remember. Besides Evie, baseball was my life, my air. I breathed it. It came natural to me. I was the best damn pitcher in the state, had a curveball no one could touch, and a full ride to OSU.” I watch Cole take a long deep breath of his own.
In through the nose. Out the mouth
. “But for years, I’d been silently struggling with pain in my shoulder. I would power through it. Ice it. Heat it. I even did physical therapy during the off-season my last year of high school. It seemed to work, so I went on as if nothing was ever wrong. Went through the whole season with minor pain, but I was used to that by then. But throughout our state championship game, my shoulder was throbbing. I knew something wasn’t right, but my stubborn ass wouldn’t—
couldn’t
—say anything. Then during the sixth inning, bases loaded and game tied, I threw that curveball and my arm screamed in agony. I knew I was done. I was over. I had a posterior labral tear. Apparently it’s pretty uncommon. Surgery wasn’t an option. I took it as a sign. Baseball just wasn’t meant to be. So after graduation, I picked myself up, took my girl, and moved here. I had already been accepted to PSU, one of my backup schools. And then halfway through college, Evie got pregnant with the twins. ” Looking down at me, he says with so much conviction it’s gutting, “I never once have regretted that decision.”

At an attempt to lighten the mood, I tease back with a wink, “You honestly dodged a bullet there anyway, babe. Who wants to be an effing Beaver, anyway?”

Jake chokes on his beer after he regains composure, eyes wide as he sputters out, “Oh shit, you guys are Duck fans, aren’t you?”

We look at him like he’s grown a second head.
Of course we’re mother effing Duck fans. We’re from Eugene, for eff’s sake.
Then it comes to me.

“Jake, where are you from?”

He cringes and replies so quietly, I just barely hear him. But I do. “Seattle.”

I gasp, lean over the table, and with a narrow of my eyes in his direction and a point of my finger, I accuse him of treason. “You’re a damn Huskie, aren’t you?”

Cole huffs and puffs, then lets out an, “Oh, fuck!”