Page 32 of All In: The Price We Pay

That’s unfortunate, of course, but I understand him.

“Since we started our sessions, I’m doing much better. No more panic attacks. Talking helps. You know what I mean?”

“I can imagine,” I confirm.

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s still necessary for me to waste her time, but after this media storm hit, I was glad I could call her.”

A sigh escapes me. “Evan, this might sound weird, but I’m relieved to hear that.” I can’t even put into words how happy I am for him that he’s not completely alone in this world. Even though I can’t be the one for him, I wish him nothing but the best. “Knowing that you have her . . . ” The sentence gets stuck in my throat, and I can’t get another word out.

“Thanks. That makes me happy.” He sounds composed. As always.

“And your ex-boyfriend? I hope that was a good experience. I really do.” No matter how painful our relationship and breakup had been, I can hardly imagine what it must be like to go through the same thing under the media spotlight, just as we had at college.

“Yeah.” Evan sounds pensive. “Lewis, my ex, is a sweetheart. He . . . ”

While Evan searches for the right words, I try to sort out how I feel about hearing about his last partner. I’ve missed him so often over the past eight years that my relationships have always suffered in some way because of it. And just when I think I’ve managed to get him out of my head, he shows up in my office and throws me back eight years. Fuck.

“He couldn’t stand the secrecy. We liked each other. Maybe even loved each other at some point. But the lies, the fear of getting caught, always carrying that worry that a mistake on his part could cost me my career. No one can put up with that.”

And doesn’t that sound way too familiar.

Possible responses race through my head. I can’t come up with the right one. Nor can I presume to say anything about a relationship I knew nothing about until a minute ago. I want to hug him, to assure him that it’s not his fault, but rather the fault of the shitty system he’s stuck in. That his job in this toxic environment is standing in the way of his happiness and that it’s got nothing to do with him. But it’s not my place to comment on that, and I’m unable to say anything else. Because at the same time, the thought occurs to me that it’s entirely up to him to change the situation. But Evan knows that, too. And no one can foresee what the consequences of such a move would be. He has no choice but to keep going with the flow.

“I’m sorry I said all those horrible things during our argument last week. I didn’t know any of that.”

He glances at me and grimaces. “How could you have known? I don’t hold it against you. It made me think.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Of course, I’m afraid that the risk of it getting out increases if I talk to more people. On the other hand, I can think much more freely now that I’ve gotten it off my chest.”

“That’s great Evan. I never wanted anything else for you.”

“I understand,” he murmurs. “A while ago, I tried to imagine how the evening with the team would have gone if I’d brought a man instead of Valentina.”

“And?” I ask cautiously.

He hesitates for a moment. “Nothing. I can’t imagine it. Or maybe I don’t want to. I think Blake and Katleen would be by my side right away. Sid seems pretty laid-back, too. But all those old-timers? I can’t figure them out. Some of the things they say really get under my skin. I’d rather not even think about it.”

And there it is again. The justified fear that no one can take away from him.

We walk toward the side street where my apartment is. “I have to turn right here.”

“Oh.” Evan scans the area. He surveys the buildings, no more than five stories tall, and on the old side. “Nice neighborhood.”

We turn the corner and are standing in front of my building within seconds. “Yeah. My apartment is about a quarter the size of your kitchen, but yeah.” I cling to my food as if it were a lifebuoy on the high seas. “How are you getting home?”

Evan looks back at the street we’ve just turned onto. “I’ll walk a few more blocks and take a taxi.”

I nod. “Um, do you want to come up?” With a fluttering hand, I point to the facade of my house.

Evan takes a step back.

Fuck.

“Um.” He laughs softly and rubs his chin. “Parker. I . . . better not, right?”

“Yeah. You’re right,” I hasten to assure him. “I meant, you could wait for a ride there. But you want to leave. Sure. No. No way. That’s not what I meant.” My verbal diarrhea is unstoppable. I keep babbling as I unlock the door with one hand. I quickly squeeze my way through. “Bye,” I call over my shoulder.