If Tomorrow Never Comes

Chapter Nine Elliott

Chapter Nine

Elliott

The second Elliott was back in her apartment she called Yuka.

“Well?” Yuka demanded by way of greeting. “How did it go? I can’t believe you didn’t call me last night.”

“Sorry, I thought you might be asleep.” Elliott, on the other hand, probably only got a total of three hours by the time she’d finally shut her mind off. For once, her thoughts had been consumed by something other than rogue leukemia cells sneaking around in her blood, just waiting for the right moment to explode, but she wouldn’t go as far as to say it had been a good distraction. She’d been this close to driving back to Lincoln but somehow talked herself into staying put.

Yuka squealed. “Out that late, huh? Please tell me it’s because of a man.”

“I did meet a guy named Stephen, but nothing wild happened because it’s me. He seems nice.”

“And?”

“He’s attractive. Very, actually.”

“Details, woman. Hair color, eyes, hand size? Don’t hold back.”

Elliott closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch. “Yuka.”

“Okay, forget about hand size. Trade for the kind of shoes he was wearing.”

Elliott inhaled, her lungs tight and painful. “Jamie was there.”

A pause. “Sorry ... Who was what now?”

“Jamie— the Jamie—was there last night.”

Yuka’s screech was so loud Elliott jerked the phone away from her ear. She would have been amused by Yuka’s excitement if the situation were anything other than what it was.

After a few seconds, Yuka seemed to register the fact Elliott wasn’t screaming with joy alongside her. “What’s wrong? Did he not remember you?”

“He did.” Elliott rubbed her palm against her sternum. “But he’s ... um. He’s Carly’s boyfriend.”

Her words hung in the air like string puppets, dancing before her eyes. Saying it out loud was more painful than she’d expected. Which, if she thought rationally about it, was ridiculous. She’d met him once, a year ago. They’d spent approximately six hours in each other’s company. Yes, there had been a connection. Attraction. Chemistry. But it had been temporary, and she’d known that from the start.

Just because she’d allowed the memory of that night to carry her through the long nights in that dark, isolated hospital room didn’t mean she had any claim on him. Even as her body slowly healed, loneliness was the sickness that festered in the silence, and it was only natural she’d relive those moments of joy to keep herself grounded. It didn’t mean they were meant to be, or that there’d been a reason they’d met that night.

The fact that her heart shattered like glass when Carly slid her arm possessively around his waist was an unfortunate side effect of an unusual situation and the unrealistic expectation she’d created in her mind over the past year.

Yuka still hadn’t spoken.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m ... shit. I’m processing.”

Elliott nodded in miserable understanding. The burning sensation of tears built beneath her eyelids.

“That sucks, Ellie. Bad.”

“Why, though?” She agreed, obviously, but admitting to it made her seize up with guilt. “The woman who saved my life is happy and with a man who, from what we know of him, is an amazing catch.”

“Sure. Good for Carly and all. I owe her big time for what she did for you. But you’re my best friend. Not Carly. And I know you’ve been thinking about Jamie this whole time and hoped you’d find him again. I wanted that for you.”

I wanted that for me, too. “They’re really cute together.” A few tears escaped, which pissed her off.

“I refuse to respond to that.” There was a beat of silence. “So what did he do? When he saw you?”

“We were only alone for a few seconds before Carly walked up, and then he pretended like he didn’t know me.”

“The hell ?”

Elliott grinned despite herself. Ten seconds ago Yuka had been screeching with glee that Elliott had run into him, now she’d probably slash his tires if Elliott said the word.

She was the most loyal friend Elliott had ever had.

“I think he just felt uncomfortable seeing me again. I mean, the last time he had, I’d used a fake name and left him sleeping on the sidewalk. I don’t know what I’d have done if I was in his shoes.”

Some men might have been pretty pissed at her, under the circumstances. But he’d just seemed shocked and then stayed quiet most of the night. Even this morning when they were alone and he could have let her have it, he’d just been ... nice .

How was it possible they lived in the same apartment complex? Elliott was paying extra to rent by the month, and that decision was looking better by the day. At least she could get out of here quickly if it became too much and she needed to relocate.

Yuka sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Elliott.”

“I am, too. And you’re the only one I can admit that to.”

“I know. That’s exactly why you should. We all need one person we can be totally vulnerable around and not worry about being judged.”

Elliott gripped the phone tighter. “I’m lucky you’re my person.”

“Don’t make me cry. I gave you one job when you left.”

“Sorry.” She traced her thumb along the seam of a couch cushion. “There’s, um. Something else.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“People were asking about me, and when I mentioned my degree and the kind of design I do, Carly sort of asked if I’d be interested in working with Jamie’s sister. I guess she’s been looking for help with her business website and stuff.”

“Jamie’s sister?”

“Yep.”

“That’s . . . not ideal.”

“I don’t know why I said yes. Everyone was looking at me, and I’d just told everyone how I wanted to help small businesses. Wouldn’t it have seemed weird to say no? And it’s a great opportunity, right? The thing with Jamie aside ... Barely a week here and I already have a client. The sooner I build my portfolio and get established, the sooner I can stop making coffee and focus on what I really want to be doing.”

“But ... can we put the thing with Jamie aside?”

“We can try.”

Yuka sighed heavily, then cleared her throat. “You know what? You’re right. This is fine, we’re fine, you’re fine. You’ll blow that woman away with what you can do, her business will thrive because of you, and she’ll refer you to everyone else she knows. Small business owners stick together. It will be so great.”

The temptation to ask But what if it’s not great? rose up, but Elliott tamped it down.

Think positive. You can do this.

They hung up shortly thereafter, and Elliott sat on the couch in the quiet space for a few minutes. If she was at home, she’d be in the kitchen with her mom or on the back porch with her dad and their German shepherd. Maybe sitting in the café in their bookstore, reading the newest employee-recommended book of the week.

She wasn’t used to the silence. Wasn’t sure she liked it, yet. So far, all it did was remind her she was here alone. If she got sick or something else happened, no one would know.

Stop. She exhaled forcefully, as if expelling the thought before it could gain a strong hold. You’re fine. You can do this.

She just needed a distraction.

She eyed the boxes stacked around the living room and stood, hoping that unpacking and organizing would keep her mind busy for several hours.

After sliding on a cloth headband to keep her hair back, she queued up an upbeat playlist on her phone and spent the next few hours emptying every box. Only an hour remained before her Starbucks shift when she lowered herself to the floor with the final box, Books scrawled across the top in Sharpie.

She considered what was inside and hesitated before finally sliding the box cutter through the tape. As a voracious reader, she wanted— needed —the books inside this box.

All except one.

Naturally, the book in question was right on top, the pink cover glaring at her from its perch atop her favorite novels.

She stared at it for the span of several blinks, considering. She couldn’t return it. No one she knew would want it, and she didn’t particularly want to keep it. Maybe she could donate it. Did libraries take random books about baking?

A local culinary school, maybe?

She shoved it onto the shelf with more force than necessary, where it would stay until she decided where to take it, and made quick work of the rest of the box.

“Where did you say you’d heard about the bakery, again?”

“I stayed at the hotel across the street before my transplant, and I noticed it one night. It was already closed, but the name caught my eye.” Elliott cast a quick glance at Carly before they crossed the street toward Melt My Tart. For someone who didn’t do it often, the lie came out surprisingly smoothly. She was careful not to look across the street to the hotel and the exact spot she’d sat with Jamie for hours, melting into his body as they talked and laughed and kissed, and where she’d dozed off and eventually slipped away like a thief in the night.

“It’s so clever, right?” Carly half turned to face Elliott as she opened the door, shaded by a pink-and-white-striped awning. “It’s legit, too. Blythe makes a mean lemon tart.”

The sweet scent of sugary baked goods rushed to meet them as they walked in, immediately reminding Elliott of the cooking class she’d gone to with Jamie. His sister might be a master of lemon tarts, but Elliott doubted she’d ever find something that hit quite the same as that first bite of French vanilla soufflé. She couldn’t recall what she’d had for dinner or the genre of music the band had played at the bar that night, but she knew the perfect, airy texture of a dessert that wasn’t too sweet or too savory, and the exact color of Jamie’s eyes as he’d watched her.

Her pulse went a little haywire at the memory. She rubbed her hand across her collarbone as she dragged her gaze to the front where the woman she assumed was Blythe finished up with a customer. She looked to be in her early thirties and had the same light-colored eyes and dirty-blond hair as Jamie, the latter pulled back in a tight ponytail.

How far did their similarities go? Did Blythe have his sense of humor? What did she think about his baseball career cut short and pivot into arboriculture (yeah, she’d looked it up while bored out of her mind in the hospital bed)?

Had their night last year meant enough to him that he’d mentioned it to his sister?

Then Carly said, “How cute is this place?” and Elliott remembered she was here for more than reminiscence and what-ifs.

She had a job to do.

The bakery’s color theme was clear and unique—lime green and hot pink—consistent with the signage outside. The floor was a light-hued natural wood and the walls a soft white—closer to an ivory or eggshell. White subway tiles lined the customer-facing side of the counter and display case, but that’s where the neutral palette came to an end. The bright-colored pastries and desserts popped from behind the clear glass, offering a mouthwatering display of macarons, cupcakes, bars, and what Elliott could only assume were mini tarts. A large pink menu board hung behind the counter, and lime-green chairs framed two-top tables near the entrance.

“It’s adorable,” Elliott replied, and meant it. She found a menu on a nearby bistro table and looked through it, ideas already forming.

As soon as the customer left, their arms full of boxes, Carly ushered Elliott to the counter.

“Hey, Blythe!”

Blythe grinned. “Is this the girl who’s gonna save me?”

“Yep.” Carly turned to Elliott. “I already filled Blythe in on everything I know about you.”

“Which isn’t much,” Elliott said with a laugh she hoped came out lighthearted but sounded more nervous-adjacent.

Carly waved a hand. “It’s enough. Obviously, this is Jamie’s older sister, Blythe. Blythe, this is Elliott.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you.” Blythe checked her watch. “I’ve got about five minutes until closing, but I doubt anyone else will come in. Want to sit? I’ll be right there.”

“Sure.”

Carly asked Blythe about some upcoming party, and Elliott took a seat at one of the tables. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it to the bakery website, comparing it with the to-go menu on the table, trying to keep her mind from drifting to thoughts of Jamie.

How close was he to Blythe? Did they grow up racing their bikes down their childhood street? Did he pull immature pranks on her, like leaving a toad in her bathroom, or did they team up and work in cahoots to mess with the rest of their family?

Blythe dropped across from her a few moments later, and Carly stopped at the edge of the table.

“Welp,” Carly said. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

Elliott frowned. “You’re not staying?” Carly lived on the west side of town, which meant this was a long-ass drive for a three-minute introduction.

“Nah, I’d just get in the way.” Carly cleared her throat and lingered, rocking back on her heels. Blythe seemed to be hiding a grin but said nothing. Finally, Carly glanced at the pastry case. “So, uh ... got anything that’s just gonna go to waste in there?”

Blythe laughed. “There it is.”

Elliott couldn’t help but smile. That was something Yuka would do.

“Pick whatever you want; just make sure you post a picture and tag the shop.”

“I know the drill.”

A few minutes later, Carly left, and Blythe locked the door from the inside and flipped off the Open sign. She sat down with a sigh, pulling the white apron over her head.

God, she looked so much like her brother.

“Thanks for agreeing to talk to me,” Elliott started. Her mentor through internship was big on exuding confidence during client conversations and had forced Elliott to practice often. It would take a while to build an experienced portfolio to impress clients, so for now she’d have to skate by on passion and sincerity. “I’m new at this, but I’ve got the creativity and skills to do whatever you want. I thought we could just talk through some general ideas about what you’re looking for, and I can email you some concepts in a few days. You can decide then if you want to move forward with hiring me. No pressure.”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

“Carly said you’re interested in redoing the website and maybe working on some general brand support?”

“Yes, exactly. I know how important building a brand is, and I want people to see a pink box”—she pointed to the pile of boxes behind the counter—“or a pastry or even an Instagram ad and immediately think of us. I want to be first on their mind when they want to cater a baby shower or birthday or just grab something sweet on the way home from work. It’s just that my artistic skills don’t go beyond the kitchen, so I’m hopeless when it comes to this kind of stuff. I know how important social media is in theory, but I struggle to have the energy for it.”

“It’s a lot of work, and always on top of actually running your business. Plus, it’s constantly changing, which doesn’t help.”

Blythe gave an exaggerated, exasperated nod.

“But that’s what I’m here for.” Elliott spun the computer around so they could both see the screen. “I checked out your website last night, and I have a few ideas.”

“Girl, I’m all ears.”

They spent the next forty minutes talking through Blythe’s thoughts and Elliott’s ideas. They went off on a few tangents, laughing about some of Blythe’s disastrous baked-goods ideas (black bean brownies when she was on a “fiber kick”) and a typo on a batch of business cards that read Melt My Fart in large, bold lettering.

“I’m still not sure that was an accident.” Blythe had laughed.

“I’d blame the intern,” Elliott had agreed. Blythe was an absolute delight, which was inconvenient. There was no way Elliott wouldn’t help her now.

They’d finally arrived at the last few logistical questions Elliott had before she was finished. “Are the hours on your website up to date? You close at six except on Friday and Saturday, when you stay open later?”

“Yeah. At first I wasn’t sure about the late nights, but my brother suggested it. Thought it might pick up the late-night crowd down here on the weekends.”

“Your brother?” The question just came out, and Elliott could have smacked herself. Bringing Jamie up was a mistake.

“Well, my younger brother. I have two, but only one I like. Jamie, Carly’s boyfriend. You’ve met him, right?”

Oh.

“Um, yeah. Last weekend, actually.” Elliott paused, then added, “He seems nice.”

That sounded natural, right? That’s what someone who hadn’t had her tongue in his mouth would say. Someone who’d never felt his hard body grinding against hers would definitely refer to him as nice . Full stop.

Her cheeks flushed anyway, and she hoped like hell Blythe wouldn’t notice. She didn’t seem to.

“He’s the best person I know.”

From what Elliott knew of him, he did seem pretty great. Great and taken .

It was definitely time to get out of here. Elliott closed her laptop and stood. “I’ll get to work on this right away. If you approve of the concepts I send and we agree on a brand direction, I can start building some back-end web pages for review. Let me know if you have any additional thoughts in the meantime.”

“Sounds perfect.” Blythe walked her to the door and unlocked it. “This was great. I think we’ll work well together.”

Elliott smiled. She agreed, even if she was a little hesitant to remain so connected to Jamie through his family. “I think so, too.”