Chapter Thirty Elliott
Chapter Thirty
Elliott
Elliott thought about Jamie all afternoon. She’d left after lunch, allowing him privacy for the conversation with Carly.
She was just as much a part of this as he was and had wanted to deal with it together, but he and Carly’s history went back several years. There might be things he’d want to say without her listening in. Part of her had hoped he’d ask her to stay, anyway ...
He hadn’t.
So now it was past dinnertime, and she hadn’t heard a word. Surely they’d spoken by now?
Were they still talking? Maybe he hadn’t gotten ahold of her at first and she’d only just called him back. But what if the call had ended hours ago and it had gone so poorly he was upset? What if he needed her?
She tucked her hands between her knees, staring at her phone for a few long seconds before she grabbed it and called him. It rang once, twice, three times. Once more and then his deep, friendly voice asked her to leave a message.
She ended the call and texted him instead.
Elliott: ??Thinking about you. I hope everything went okay.??
When he didn’t reply, she opted to get out of her apartment and away from the ass-size indention she’d made worrying on her couch for the last several hours. She passed his truck in the lot near his building on her way out.
She went to Target for a few groceries, taking a couple of extra laps around the leisure wear and candle sections when he still hadn’t responded to her text. She stopped by a coffee shop for hot tea, then went back to their complex.
His truck was still there.
The clock on the dash said it was almost eight thirty ... Screw it. She pulled into the spot next to his building and put her car in park. Right before she got out, her phone dinged.
Jamie: ??Hey, sorry. I had my phone on silent. I’m pretty exhausted. Heading to bed early tonight.??
She frowned at the screen but stayed put, abandoning her plan to show up at his door.
Elliott: ??Are you okay???
Jamie: ??Yeah??
Elliott: ??Did you talk to Carly???
Jamie: ??Yeah. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay???
No, she wanted to say. Not okay. What was going on, and why didn’t he want to talk to her about it?
But she’d respect his request, as difficult as it would be. Something had obviously happened, but there’d been times when she wanted to be alone to process something, too. She wouldn’t push him tonight, but tomorrow would be a different story.
She gave him until 9:00 a.m. She’d tossed and turned all night, thinking and worrying about him. And about Carly.
He said they’d talk today, so by 9:07 a.m. she stood on his doormat, still in her pajama pants and tank top. She knocked.
Nothing. Not a single sound came from inside his apartment.
She frowned and knocked again, louder this time. Not even a bark from Hank.
They hadn’t been at the dog park when she left her building—she’d checked before making the trek here. She slipped her phone from her pocket, but just as she hit the “Call” button, the door to the stairwell at the end of the hall opened.
Hank bounded out, panting and drooling everywhere, followed by a shirtless, sweaty Jamie.
Elliott knelt to greet Hank but kept her eyes on Jamie’s face. His flushed cheeks, damp hair, and troubled eyes.
He stopped beside her. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“Sorry about last night.” He swiped his wadded-up shirt across his face, then pulled a key from his pocket. “Come on in.”
She followed him inside, scanning the apartment as she went. Everything looked normal. A vase of aging flowers on the table, Hank’s toys scattered around, several books stacked beside the couch. Even the cereal bowl in the sink was a usual finding on a weekend morning.
Hank collapsed on the kitchen tiles. Jamie filled a glass with water and sat at the kitchen table like he always did after a run, not wanting to get the cushions all sweaty.
On the surface nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
But something still felt off.
Maybe it was the tension in his shoulders that a run hadn’t even loosened up, or the downward tilt of his lips. Maybe it was the way he wouldn’t look at her.
“Good run?” she asked, like a complete coward.
“Fine.” He chugged half the glass and wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. He finally met her gaze for a few seconds, then dropped his eyes to the table, dropping his face to his hands.
“Oh, Jamie.” She sat beside him, her hand on his back, not caring that his warm skin was damp. His ribs rose and fell underneath her touch. “Was it that bad?”
The pained sigh he released was so heavy she felt it in her bones. Suddenly, she dreaded hearing what he’d say.
He glanced up, the green in his irises darker than usual. “I told her everything.”
She kept her hand on him, sliding her palm up and down. “By ‘everything,’ you mean ...?”
“How we met before your transplant. That I knew who you were at The Patriarch. That I’m the guy Tiffany brought up that night in front of everyone. Well.” He blew out a puff of air. “That last part she figured out on her own, but I wasn’t going to lie when she asked me point-blank. Figured by now we’ve kept enough secrets already.”
Elliott nodded her head slowly and tried to stay calm. She hadn’t expected him to tell Carly so much.
As if he could read her mind, he went on, “I wasn’t planning on all that. I started off just telling her we were together and asked if she wanted to talk about it. I fucked up and said I was in love with you, and she asked how that was possible when we’d just met. I didn’t know what else to do. So I just told her everything.”
Her heart snagged on his referring to loving her as fucked up but didn’t linger there. He hadn’t meant it that way, probably, and was obviously distressed by this whole thing—and he hadn’t even told her Carly’s reaction yet.
“How’d she take it?”
“She was ... shocked. Got pretty upset. Assumed I broke up with her for you, which is ... only partly true.” He bowed his head and gripped his hair, tightening it in a fist. “I tried to explain it wasn’t just that, but we both knew it was a big part. Because even though we were just friends first, I would have. Left her for you if you’d so much as given me a hint of interest. No questions asked.” He lifted his face once again, expression miserable. “What kind of man does that make me?”
Elliott reached up, slowly, and pulled his hand away, threading her fingers through his. She didn’t know what to say in this moment. Everything felt wrong. “Whatever kind of person you are, so am I.”
He offered her a sad smile, the equivalent of Thanks for trying to make me feel better. It’s not working, though .
“I’m so sorry, Jamie. I’m sorry Stephen and Tara saw us and that you had to tell her like this. I’m sorry it didn’t go well. But don’t you think with time, things might change? That she might ... get past it, maybe?”
“I don’t know. If she does, it doesn’t seem like it will be anytime soon.”
“Should ... should I call her? Maybe if I talk to her, too—”
He shook his head. “That would probably make it worse. I think it’s best for you to just stay out of it, for now.” He straightened, pulling his hand away from hers. He leaned back against the chair and crossed his arms, staring at the table.
Elliott regarded her empty hand and frowned. She understood he was upset, but she hadn’t expected the distance. He might as well have been across the room.
“Do you still love her?” she asked quietly.
“What?”
She told herself it would be okay if he did. If talking to her yesterday and the emotions that came with it revived prior feelings. “Do you still love her?”
“No. Not the way I love you. I just hate that I hurt her.”
The tightening in her throat loosened a little. “I do, too.”
“I’m sorry I’m ... so off. I just don’t know what to feel right now. Or do. I’m all over the place.”
She wanted to touch him again. Wrap her arms around him or scoot closer, at least. Whatever happened they’d figure it out together, and eventually things would even out.
But he’d pulled away once and now had his arms crossed over his chest, forearms rising and falling with each breath. It apparently wasn’t what he needed right now, something she tried not to read anything into. Yes, ever since the day she’d walked in and kissed him, he’d had his hands on her at every available opportunity, but this was also the first time she’d seen him deal with something tough like this.
Maybe this was normal for him. Carly would know, a tiny voice reminded her, and she jumped to her feet. “Let’s go somewhere.”
He eyed her. “Where?”
“Anywhere. Somewhere fun, where we can forget about this and just be together for a little while. Take a break to smile and laugh. What about an arcade? Mini golf? I’m so awful you’ll be laugh-crying after the first hole, I promise.”
He finished off his water and rubbed at his jaw. “I think I’d rather just hang around here. Is that okay?”
She sat back down. “Sure. Want to watch movies? Cook something? I could go grab some books, and we could sit on the balcony.”
Jamie’s brows pulled together, and he tucked his lower lip between his teeth before he spoke again. “I sort of want to be, um ... on my own for a bit. Alone. I’m still processing some of the stuff she said, and I just think I need to sit with it. Is that okay?”
Oh. That was unexpected and hurt more than she cared to admit. She stood again, feeling ridiculous with all the up and down, but mostly for misreading the situation so badly. Yes, it was a completely reasonable request, and he wasn’t being unkind. He’d said he loved her multiple times throughout the conversation and referred to how much he cared about her.
So why, then, did she feel like she was back in eighth grade, watching the guy she liked walk right by without even sparing her a glance?
“Sure, that’s fine.” She grabbed her phone and keys and whirled around to rub Hank’s ears to hide the tears welling beneath her lids. “I’ll just see you ... later, then.”
His chair scraped the floor as she went straight for the door, and suddenly his warm, gentle hand was on her arm, pulling her back and against his chest.
“Thank you,” he whispered into her hair. He kissed her just above her ear. “I’m sorry.”
He released her and she didn’t look back, opening the door and letting it fall shut behind her. Maybe that final hug and kiss should have made her feel better. Given her some sort of confirmation everything was okay. That they’d be okay. But it didn’t.
It only made it worse.
The rest of Sunday sucked. Monday morning, too.
Elliott was completely worthless and unable to focus on anything. Maybe if she’d had a client into dark colors and serious themes, like a Halloween event or a therapist’s website, she’d have been in the right headspace. But no, her current clients boasted bursting, bright businesses that required positive creativity and vision, and she didn’t have it in her right now. Not when she had this sense that something terrible was looming.
She hadn’t heard a single thing from Jamie since she’d left his place yesterday. After weeks of being with each other so much she’d wondered if they should just move in together and get it over with, the solitude was unnerving.
Lonely.
Quiet.
She couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong—really wrong. She and Jamie had just hit their stride, finally finding a rhythm together, and things had been almost perfect. But something was really bothering him, and he wouldn’t talk to her about it. Not only did she wonder what Carly said to cause this reaction in him, but the fact he’d pulled away instead of opening up to her was the biggest red flag of all.
Were they ... over? Her heart cracked, just thinking about it.
There was also the fact Carly’s reaction meant she was hurt by what Jamie’d told her. Which was completely fair—they’d lied to her, and Elliott might never forgive herself for not pushing harder back then, demanding she and Jamie come clean from the start.
But like Jamie, she couldn’t find it in her to regret being with him in the end. From her point of view, he was it for her. He’d said it was the same for him, that he and Elliott together was the kind of thing people move mountains for.
Even so, was it possible the collateral damage would prove too much? Would it linger between them forever, a constant reminder of who they’d hurt in the process of finding happiness?
The questions cycled through her mind that morning as she went for her monthly surveillance labs, which she belatedly realized she hadn’t even been worried about because she’d been so caught up in the situation with Jamie and Carly.
Her brain didn’t even conjure the possibility that something could be wrong until she stepped out of her apartment that afternoon before going for a run, hoping to clear her head in the fresh air. Her phone rang before she hit the stairwell, and she frowned at the screen.
It usually took a few days to hear from the oncologist’s office.
“Hello?”
“Elliott? It’s Dr. Varghese.”
She tightened her grip on the phone.
She couldn’t remember the last time he’d called her himself. Ninety-percent of the time she spoke with his nurse or the medical assistant. These calls were usually three seconds long. Everything looks perfect; we’ll see you next month.
“I got the results from the labs we drew this morning. Do you have a second to talk?”
She was in the middle of the hallway, but her legs didn’t seem capable of moving just now, so it was as good a time as any. “What is it? Is the leukemia back?”
“I’m not sure,” he said carefully. “There’s no evidence of that, but your blood counts have been trending down over the last few months. I’ve been watching them closely, and while they’d been steadily dropping, they’d still been normal. This time they weren’t.”
A wave of dizziness hit her, and she sat right in the middle of the floor so she didn’t pass out. “What does that mean?”
“It can mean several things, and I don’t want to make assumptions yet. I’m going to send it off for more cytology, which I’ll probably get back tomorrow, but I think we’d better schedule a bone marrow biopsy to get a closer look. I can get you in first thing Wednesday morning at eight. Can you make that work?”
“Yes.” She was scheduled at Starbucks, but she’d find someone to cover.
“I know it’s easier said than done, but try not to worry until we have more answers, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll, um, see you Wednesday.”
She took several deep breaths, in through her nose and out through her mouth. Shaking, she stood and turned back to her apartment, struggling for a few seconds to unlock the door. As soon as it closed behind her, she sank back to the floor. She tucked her knees to her chest and stared blankly into her living room.
She remained there for several minutes, heart racing and mind spinning. It’s back. It has to be. I thought I was done with all this—the chemo, the weekly labs, the symptoms and side effects. And now I have to do this all again. Hot tears spilled over, and she wept until she had nothing left.
Drained and overwhelmed, she picked up her phone and dialed the first person that came to mind.
“Can I come over?”