My Replacement Husband

My Replacement Husband (14) The More You Know

     "CHOCOLATE OR VANILLA?"

Evan took out two vanilla pudding cups.

"It's a tough choice," I said half-jokingly. "Chocolate has a certain richness to it while vanilla is more light and creamy."

"It's not the Bachelor, Jules." He handed me one of the vanilla cups before giving me a gentle nudge toward the cash register. "You're still indecisive as ever."

I resented that. "What's wrong with thinking over my options?"

"I could change my mind," I argued. "Or my tastes."

As I reached for my wallet, Evan was already getting change for his twenty without missing a beat. He had paid for me yet again. "Have you really changed that much?"

That was a good question.

Evan lead us to one of the empty tables. "Same haircut, same smile, same laugh, and same favorite flavor. I'd love to hear you enlighten me about the past 5 years."

There wasn't much to say. I had worked, worked out, hung out with friends now and then, avoided home, and bought a new portrait to hang in my office last week. My life wasn't the most exciting thing in the world, but it was better the constant hum of drama that I was being bombarded with the past month.

I ripped off the pudding lid with ease. "You first."

"What do you want to know? I'm an open book," Evan said.

Well, that was just a can of worms.

"Why'd you come back?" I asked hesitantly. "You couldn't get out of New York fast enough once we graduated. No goodbye. No email. No word from you, and I know we broke up but didn't that time mean anything to you, Evan?"

"I know..." he sighed. "I don't know actually. I thought there was nothing for me here anymore. I was set on traveling the world, and for a while, that's all I did. Thailand, Malaysia, Tibet, Vietnam, you name it, I had that on my bucket list."

"What changed?" I was more curious than I wanted to admit.

His eyes bore into mine. "What's so great about having the world and no one to share it with?"

I snorted. "I doubt you had any trouble finding a travel companion."

Evan was popular. You would have to be blind not to notice. Wherever he went, he drew people in like moths to a lantern. He was a bright star that you couldn't get too close to or you'd get burned. I learned that the hard way.

"I got your letters," he said.

There was a pause between us.

"I'm sorry." Evan crumpled the napkin in his hand.

I placed my hand over his wrist. "It's fine. Honestly, I'm more embarrassed than anything else."

I had written Evan four letters over the course of our break up. The first one had detailed how much I loved him. It was a letter fresh from my break up blues with so many flowery adjectives it could have been its own botanical garden. The second one was a compromise. I had hashed out a list of the issues that we could work through, and what I was willing to do to make amends to our relationship. The third one had been a little petty. A letter that proudly proclaimed that I, Julie Ann Carson, would not be waiting for him to return home back to me. I had more self-respect than that and he was more burden than boyfriend while we were dating.

The fourth one was succinct: an apology.

"Do you ever wonder about what would have happened if I had stayed, Jules? Does that ever cross your mind?" he asked, catching me off-guard as I tried to lick off the lid of the pudding cup. "Do I ever cross your mind?"