Chapter Fourteen Elliott
Chapter Fourteen
Elliott
Elliott withdrew to Lincoln and worked from her laptop in her parents’ backyard over the weekend, wanting to be as far from her apartment as possible.
Under no circumstances did she want to run into Jamie.
Not thinking about it was a different story, especially because she spent most of her time working on designs for Melt My Tart. She’d get in a groove with colors and lettering for a few hours, then something would trip a wire in her memory and there she was, standing in that cooking class with Jamie, warm and smiling as they joked about narwhals.
Which inevitably fast-forwarded her memory to what Tiffany announced and what Jamie must be thinking of her now. Was he weirded out? Did he think she was a stalker? Worse, would he want to talk to her about it?
Tiffany had texted the next day, apologizing for divulging Elliott’s personal business that night, and asked if it was the reason Elliott had disappeared. There was no point in making Tiffany feel bad, especially because if Jamie wasn’t Carly’s boyfriend and they weren’t in this situation, Elliott might have appreciated a coordinated effort to locate him on her behalf. So she’d assured Tiffany all was good, she’d just felt off and gone home.
Monday afternoon, Elliott drove back to Omaha and made her way to Old Market for a meeting with Blythe to review design ideas. She’d mocked up a few home-page options she was considering for the website and a basic draft of changes she recommended for the menu. She’d probably gone a little overboard for a client who hadn’t officially signed on, but not only did Elliott enjoy doing it, she didn’t have much in her portfolio yet. She wanted to show Blythe exactly what she could do.
She slung her camera over her shoulder as she got out of the car, wanting to be prepared if Blythe wanted to move forward and she could take a few fresh shots of the bakery for the website.
Blythe was nowhere to be seen when Elliott walked in, and a young, smiling woman stood behind the counter instead.
“Welcome in,” the woman greeted.
Elliott approached the counter, shifting her laptop under her arm. “Hi. I’m here for Blythe?”
“Sure, hang on a sec.” The woman disappeared into the back briefly, then returned with Blythe on her heels.
“Hey, Elliott,” Blythe said warmly. “Okay if we sit out here? There’s a desk in the back, but it’s pretty cramped.”
“Sure.”
She paused at the pastry case. “Can I get you anything?” Waggled her eyebrows. “On the house.”
“Oh, that’s so nice—but no, thank you. I’m not a big sweets person.”
Blythe blinked. “Not even a chocolate chip cookie? Not to toot my own horn, but they’re the best in the whole entire world. No wait—the universe.”
Elliott laughed. “That’s so nice, but I’ll pass. I don’t care for chocolate.”
Blythe just stared at her.
“You don’t like chocolate ?” The other employee sputtered.
“Don’t worry—I make up for it in other ways. I could probably eat a whole block of cheese or a gallon of buttered popcorn by myself.”
Blythe snorted good-naturedly and continued to a table. “So could I, but I’d finish it off with a brownie.”
“Most people would,” Elliott agreed and sat across from her. “Before we get started, I wanted to thank you for mentioning me to your friend Jackie. She reached out about help with her logo.”
“Oh, sure.” Blythe winced. “But we’ll see if you’re thanking me after you work with her. I figured since you’re just starting out you’d want any and all business—I’ve been there—but she can be a little ... picky.”
Elliott couldn’t afford to be choosy right now. “If I made it through working with my parents in one piece, I can handle anything.”
“What do they do?”
“They own a bookstore in Lincoln. The biggest fight they ever had was over T-shirts and whether they should use reading puns or not.”
“Who doesn’t love a good pun?”
“My mother, apparently. My dad and I are with you.” Her Reading is a Novel Idea T-shirt was her favorite one to sleep in.
Blythe tapped a finger to her chin. “T-shirts ... Should I have T-shirts?”
“Maybe. Though I think if you’re wanting to consider branded merchandise, other things might be a better place to start, like coffee tumblers or stickers. T-shirts can be hit-or-miss with restaurants.”
“Sure, that makes sense. I’m getting ahead of myself anyway.” She gestured to everything Elliott spread out on the table. “Where should we start?”
“How about the website?” Elliott flipped open her laptop, multiple minimized screens ready to go. “I have several designs for you to look a—”
Blythe’s phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen and grabbed it. “Sorry, it’s my brother.” She typed out a message and set her phone down again, the screen still illuminated.
Something warm and terrifying twisted in Elliott’s chest at the mention of Jamie. The urge to glance at the message was real.
“He’s been a little needy this weekend since ... Well, I’m sure you know about the breakup. Being friends with Carly and all.”
Breakup?
“The what?” Her voice came out wobbly.
Blythe winced. “Shoot, I just assumed you’d have heard. I hope they weren’t, like, keeping it quiet or anything.”
A thread of unease unraveled in her gut. Did something happen after she left the restaurant Friday night? Did Carly somehow find out Jamie was the one Tiffany had told everyone about?
Had he come clean and told her?
Oh God.
“No, but that’s ... I’m sorry to hear that. Are they ... um. Is he okay?”
“Yeah.” Blythe seemed genuinely unconcerned, so it must not have been ugly. “I like Carly and everything, but between you and me, they’ve always been an odd pair. I think maybe he finally realized they’re not the best fit, you know?”
Elliott blinked, unsure how to respond, her thoughts no longer in this room. Somehow she managed to get back to business as if Blythe hadn’t just dropped that huge bomb on her, and she made it through the rest of the meeting without incident.
But as soon as she left the bakery, anxiety and frustration rushed in full force, along with a tiny sliver of hope she refused to acknowledge.
Nothing about this was good.
She had to know what happened. Was she somehow responsible?
Blythe said Jamie was fine—was that true? Even if it was, what about Carly? She couldn’t bear the thought of Carly’s heartbreak.
She had to talk to Jamie.
As soon as she arrived in her apartment she went to the balcony—the exact spot she’d stayed away from all weekend—searching the dog park.
Jamie wasn’t there.
She’d have gone straight to his apartment if she knew where it was, but when they first met he’d just pointed in the opposite direction. There were five buildings on that side.
Agitation crept higher up her spine with each passing minute, so she sat down to wait. Took several deep breaths and attempted to calm down. Made a valiant effort to inhale the summer air and enjoy the weather while she waited.
In a stroke of good luck, she didn’t have to wait long. A yellow blur moving across the grass half-an-hour later caught her eye, and she lurched to her feet. “You!”
Jamie started and twisted around to look at her. His lips parted but he said nothing.
She jabbed a finger at him. “Wait there.”
Less than a minute later, she strode across the sidewalk, heart lodged in her throat. Jamie was rooted to the same spot, hands jammed in his pockets, his expression a mixture of apprehension and melancholy. It was all wrong, the distress in his eyes, and it brought her anger down a notch.
Hank stood beside him, tail wagging, and she gave him a gentle pat of acknowledgment before focusing on Jamie. “You broke up with her?” She tried to minimize the accusation in her tone, but his widened eyes said she was only partly successful. “Why? How could you do that?”
Did he deserve to be interrogated? No.
Was this any of her business? Probably not.
But the guilt simmering just beneath the surface didn’t care. Certain she was some kind of homewrecker, she took it out on him.
He said nothing, though his eyes darted across the grass to several other people hovering around the dog park. An older couple slowly made their way toward where he and Elliott stood. He cleared his throat. “Could we, um, maybe go somewhere else to talk about this?”
She sighed and hesitated only a beat before nodding toward her building.
“Okay if Hank comes up?” Jamie asked quietly as she turned on her heel.
She didn’t look back and walked to the entrance. “Yeah.”
The elevator ride was awkward and silent. Hank seemed to sense the tension and remained close to Jamie’s side as they made their way down the hall. Once inside her apartment, she crossed her arms and faced him.
His posture was stiff, a far cry from his usual confident stance as he took in her living room.
Her apartment seemed smaller with him inside. Her reckless heart flickered through the possibilities she’d imagined the first few days living in Omaha—possibilities Jamie might someday be in this space for her. On her couch, in her kitchen, in her bed ...
All before she’d met Carly. Before she knew who he belonged to.
This time, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Please tell me you didn’t break up with her because of me.”
His eyes slid closed for a beat, chest rising and falling beneath his gray T-shirt. “I can’t.”
“Because of what Tiffany said?”
He slowly ran a hand through his hair, leaving it in disarray. His eyes were tired, dark circles underneath. A small piece of her heart went out to him. Most of her concern lay with Carly, but this wasn’t easy on him, either.
“That was ...” He pressed his lips together, and his eyes briefly rose to the ceiling as if he didn’t have the right words to say. “Beyond what I could handle.”
Her throat closed up, and she took several steadying breaths.
“Did you tell her? About ... us? That you’re the guy?”
Something flared in his eyes when she said us . A traitorous part of her relished the word, too.
There is no us in that sense. There can’t be.
“No.”
She expected a wave of relief, but none came. Even if Carly didn’t know Elliott was the reason for her ruined relationship, she was the reason all the same. Carly’s heartache and tears were Elliott’s fault.
“Maybe I should have,” he continued. “I don’t know. This whole situation was just ... I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t expect to still—” He stopped himself, a muscle flexing in his jaw. “I just couldn’t continue on like that. It wasn’t right and she deserves better.”
What had he stopped himself from saying? Continue on like what ?
Something told her the answers would make this a thousand times harder, so she asked something else instead. “Is Carly okay?”
She watched his face carefully, and strangely, that question seemed to relax him a little. “Breaking up is never fun, but we’ve been friends a long time. She texted me this morning, asking about some dying plants in her neighbor’s backyard, so I’d say we’re fine. She’s fine.”
Only God knew what made her ask the next question. “Are you? Fine?”
He regarded her, eyes searching her face. Maybe trying to determine just how honest he could be. “I’m not sure yet.”
She had a disturbing urge to step forward and hug him. This had been a bad idea, inviting him up here. Where it was quiet and they were alone. Where his glasses-framed hazel eyes were kind and gentle and not at all demanding.
Instead, she blurted, “I can’t date you. If that’s why you broke up with her, thinking we’d, um ...” She folded her arms across her chest. “I won’t do that to Carly.”
“I understand,” Jamie said, sincerity dripping from his words. He hadn’t moved a single step from where he’d stopped when he first entered her apartment. His entire face turned downcast, the cheerful dimple nowhere to be found. “I didn’t expect anything from you. I made the choice myself, regardless of whether anything was possible between us or not. I get that the connection you have with her makes this ...”
“Impossible.”
He winced slightly at the word. The finality of it. His mouth opened as if he’d say something, then closed again. He adjusted Hank’s leash in his hand.
She folded in on herself. “Part of me wishes I’d never moved here. All I’ve done is cause problems.”
He shook his head, frowning. “None of this is your fault. I made the choice to get back together with Carly when I wasn’t ready, and that’s on me. You’ve done nothing but good since you’ve been here. Carly was so happy to meet you, and you’re doing incredible work for my sister. Her business will flourish because of it, and so will everyone else you work with. And you’re doing something you’ve always wanted to. Going after your dreams.”
He reached across and gripped one forearm as he spoke. “I made myself crazy last year, wondering what happened to you. Wondering if maybe I should have pushed a little more to make sure you were okay ... Worried you’d kept yourself a secret because you were scared or sick, or worse. I can’t tell you how glad I was to learn you were alive and well and ... happy. Especially after learning what you’d been through and why you’d come back. So, I ... I hope you stay. If for no other reason than you deserve something good. No—something incredible. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re just now living the life you want to live, and you should have nothing less.”
It took everything in her not to let the tears burning beneath her lids fall. She would the second he walked out that door.
Happy, comforting tears at his kind words and encouragement to focus on herself and what she wanted.
And lonely, brokenhearted tears because she wasn’t living the life she wanted to. She wanted him in her life in a way he never could be. How long would she grieve the loss of that particular dream—one she’d held close for an entire year?
Her bones were like iron, her entire body weighing her down. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I left you like that. With nothing.” It was no use thinking about how different things might be if she’d given him a number, an email, something. But she wished she had, all the same.
“You had a lot on your mind.”
Hank let out a slight whine, probably wondering why they were all just standing around. Jamie gave him a pat on the head, never releasing her gaze.
“Even if I wanted to ...” What? Be with him? Try? She couldn’t make herself say it out loud. “I’ll never do anything to hurt her.”
He exhaled an audible breath. “I wouldn’t want to, either.”
She believed him.
“I’m not expecting, or asking for, anything,” he said for the second time.
She nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
Hank stood up and barked impatiently, and when Jamie shushed him, he barked again. “I’d better get him out of here.”
“Okay,” she repeated, suddenly and inexplicably sad.
“Elliott?”
Her eyes met his. “Yeah?”
“Do you think we can be friends?”
Friends.
She turned the question over in her mind, inspecting it like a pending contract. From the minute she’d realized he was Carly’s boyfriend, being friends with Jamie is what she’d tried to be. And while externally she thought she’d done pretty well, deep down she’d crashed and burned.
Could she be in the same room with him and not want to touch him? Catch a hint of his soap and stop herself from leaning in, just a little, for a second hit?
Would she ever stop wishing she was funnier so he’d laugh more and flash that adorable dimple?
Could she voice the hundreds of questions she’d wanted to ask him over the past year without falling for him even more? And avoid answering the same questions about herself so he wouldn’t get in too deep? Because she hadn’t let anyone inside her head, not really, except for Yuka and her family.
If anyone could get past her defenses, it would be him.
Could she really and truly be just friends with Jamie Sullivan without making herself (or them both) miserable in the process?
She didn’t know, and despite the hope in his hazel eyes, she said as much, unwilling to sugarcoat it. “I’m not sure.”
He flashed a small smile at that, surprising her. “I’m not sure I can be friends with you, either,” he admitted. “But I’d like to at least give it a try. If that’s okay.”
It was possible she’d regret it later, but she didn’t stop the answering grin that pulled her lips up.
“Yeah, okay. Let’s try.”