Chapter 19
Elliot
It’s supposed to snow today. Thank God. Bring it on. I’m due for a run after work and the snow might finally, finally cool me down. After last night, I need all the help I can get.
I inhale, measuring the beats as I hold my breath and exhale slowly, focusing on keeping my mind from hitting replay for the four hundredth time in the last twelve hours.
Joelle is late. As distractions go, it’s a motherfucker. I called her three times, but she hasn’t answered. I know it’s probably something mundane, but I can’t help but suspect her absence has something to do with last night.
Last night…
Don’t go there, jackass. You already almost lost a finger today by not paying attention.
The noisy kitchen is usually a comfort to me. I love the camaraderie, the heat, the bustle of it. It’s mine, all of it. I built it. Yet today all I want is to lock myself away somewhere and relive every second of last night.
Okay, maybe that’s not all I want. Round two would be nice. And three. And four.
My dick stirs and I shift over to the sink, turning the cold water on full blast to rinse my hands off. It’s cool enough to make me pay attention and I tell myself it helps.
Fact is, there will be no round two, not after the way I fucked things up last night. Fucking Alex and his fucking ex. When the hell did he start talking to Diana again anyway?
And why the bleeding fuck does it bother me so damn much?
Because I know—I know—he hasn’t really been talking to her. For one thing, I saw that text. It was the only message in the thread, so I know he hadn’t responded. That means the problem is the possibility that he might want to talk to her again.
If Alex wants to start things back up with that… woman, why should I care?
Whatever the reason, it had hit a big red button in me and I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. At least Joelle left, too. I’m not proud of watching her climb into the Uber from the window, but if she’d stayed…
If she’d stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from going back downstairs and joining them. And then I would have had to explain why I left, but how the hell am I supposed to tell them why when I don’t even understand it myself?
It was one text message.
I’m still stewing over that damned text when Anna stops by to pass on a message from Joelle, saying she overslept and will be here soon.
Thank God.Something innocuous. I certainly can’t blame her for oversleeping; I was exhausted this morning, too. Though I doubt she was up tossing and turning like I was.
Or maybe she was.
Shit.
An hour later,I’m elbow deep in a slower-than-usual lunch rush, doing my best not to stare at Joelle every time I walk by her station in the kitchen. She came in, apologized to me and Anna for being late, then dove straight into work, all without making eye contact with me once.
I swear I keep hearing the faintest sniffle coming from her direction, and it’s all I can do not to order her into my office to tell me what the hell is wrong. Only I can’t do that because the instant I get her alone, those pants are coming off.
If she’ll let me. There’s a chance she might not be thrilled with me flaking out last night.
Seriously, Elliot, what the hell were you thinking?
“Hey, boss,” Jimmy calls out the next time I pass through the kitchen. “Any way you can grab an extra set of sheet pans on your way back up here?”
I give him a thumbs up and head to the storeroom. It’s little more than an open closet, but it’s a lot quieter back here, which is the only reason I hear it.
Crying.
I peer around the corner. Joelle is sitting on an overturned plastic crate, surrounded by cans of tomato sauce and piles of plastic storage bins, hands covering her gorgeous face.
“Oh, sunshine,” I say. My voice cracks, and before I can even clear my throat, Joelle’s wiping her eyes and standing up. “What’s wrong? Please, please tell me… please tell me this isn’t about last night. Whatever it is, I’ll make it right. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Joelle sniffs, wiping her nose delicately with a tissue that comes from nowhere.
“I’m sorry, Elliot,” she says, her voice rough from her crying. It guts me to hear it. Joelle should never sound like that. “Let me go wash my hands and I’ll get back to work.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Her laugh sounds watery and it makes my own eyes go suspiciously hot.
If it’s something we did, I’m going to go find Alex and beat the crap out of him. Then I’ll let him beat the crap out of me for good measure.
“Please, Joelle. Did we do something wrong?” I don’t say his name, but the blush creeping up her neck tells me she knows what I’m asking.
“It’s… not about last night,” she whispers. “Last night was…” She rolls her lips together and blows out a shaky breath, blushing harder. “Ah, it was…”
“It was fucking amazing,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes, willing her to agree with me.
She nods, saving me from having to throw myself in front of a bus somewhere in despair.
“It was amazing,” she whispers.
“Good, glad we got that part settled,” I say, like I’m not about to collapse under a wave relief now that I know I didn’t completely fuck things up for us. “So what’s with the tears? Tell me who made you cry so I can go beat the shit out of them for you.”
“You first,” she says, keeping her voice low. “Why did you leave like that last night?”
I swallow, then swallow again before I can get the words out in any kind of reasonable order.
“Alex got a message from his ex last night.”
“Oh.” She’s watching my face carefully, but what she sees there I have no idea. “And that’s a problem.”
“Not that kind of a problem,” I tell her. “At least, not that I know of.” I run my hands through my hair. “You didn’t see him last year, after they broke up.”
“I take it she left him?”
“That stone cold bi—that person, she left him wrecked.”
“What happened? Did she meet someone else?”
I shake my head. I can’t elaborate, not until he’s had a chance to talk to her himself.
“Poor Alex.” Joelle’s sad again, which is the absolute opposite of what I want for her. She should always be smiling.
Now you’ve done it, jackass. Gone and fallen in love with a woman who’s not going to be around past her six-month mark. Genius.
I bury the thought, praying to God it doesn’t show on my face. Fortunately, she’s not looking right at me just now.
“But that still doesn’t explain why you left last night,” says Joelle bringing her gaze back to mine. “What did the message say? I mean, it’s none of my business, of course, but—”
“It is your business, sunshine.” I pin her in place with a look. Her eyes go wide and she nods, the hint of a smile curling one side of her mouth.
“It just asked if they could talk. She said she missed him.”
“Did he write her back?”
“No.” Her silence is pointed, and I shrug.
“What?”
“Oh, Elliot,” she says, stepping toward me to lay her hand against my cheek. She starts to pull her hand back but I grab it and press my lips to her palm. I feel rather than hear the soft gasp she makes.
“Tell me something,” she says.
“Anything.”
“Why do you think that text upset you so much you had to leave?”
“Hell if I know. It doesn’t make any sense.” I answer too quickly.
She smiles.
“He’s my best friend, you know? Has been for years. I’d hate to see him get run through like that again.” All of this is true, but it doesn’t explain the sickening burn simmering in my gut ever since I saw that vile message.
Joelle’s smiling for real now, so much tenderness in her eyes that it grips my heart and won’t let go. I don’t know what I’ve done to make her look at me like that, but I wish I did. I’d do it again every day for the rest of my life to make sure she never stops.
“Elliot,” she says softly. We don’t have a lot of time—it’s a fucking miracle we haven’t been discovered yet. But I lean into her anyway, catching a whiff of that sweet vanilla scent that seems to follow her everywhere. “Elliot, don’t you see? You’re jealous.”
That sets me back a bit.
“What? Jealous of what?”
“Jealous over Alex, of course.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” I say. “Diana is not even remotely my type.” Like, not even in the same species. I actually physically shudder at the thought.
“Not because of her,” says Joelle, laughing softly now. “I mean, you’re jealous because Alex might be talking to her again.”
That’s not it.
I mean, surely that’s not it.
“Why would you think that, sunshine?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, and I can’t quite catch my breath.
“I’ve seen the way you look at him, Elliot,” she says, almost whispering now. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And getting to share a part of that with you last night…”
She’s saying Alex and I… that I want…
She’s right.
We don’t have time for this, and the longer we keep riding that crazy train of thought, the further away it gets me from finding out what made my girl cry.
“Just think about it. For me?” she asks. I nod, because my voice is missing in action right this minute.
A beat passes, and she drops her gaze to the floor.
“My dad kicked me out this morning.”
“What?” It’s all I can do not to shout and bring the rest of the staff running back here. I never thought I’d be grateful for a slow day, but today’s turning out to be an exception to all kinds of rules.
Jealous over Alex. Jesus.
“What happened?”
“We argued,” she said, taking a deep breath. I’m still holding her hand, so I give it a squeeze. It’ll tide me over until I can hold her properly. “I suggested he think about being a little more independent, and… well, suffice it to say it didn’t go well.”
“I’m so sorry, baby,” I say, darting a look over my shoulder before bending to brush a kiss across her lips. A dumb move, because once I get my mouth on hers again, I don’t want to let go.
“Come stay with me.”
“What?” The question is breathless, all but silent as I kiss her softly over and over again.
“Stay with me,” I say, pulling back to rest my forehead on hers. “Or stay with Alex.”
“I’m pretty sure you have to ask him first before you offer up his couch,” she says, laughing.
“Who said anything about a couch?” I say without thinking. And shit, that sounds creepy as fuck. “I mean, we both have guest rooms. You don’t have to sleep on a couch. You don’t have to sleep in a guest room either, I just meant—”
Joelle’s laughing now, genuinely laughing for the first time today, and it warms me from the inside out that I could give her that.
I kiss her again because I can’t fucking help it. I’m in over my head for this woman.
“Hey boss, Jimmy sent me back here for those—Whoa!”
I jerk back, Joelle doing the same. I make a grab for the damn sheet pans—I’d forgotten, just flat out forgot about them—and shove them at the line cook.
“Here, Bertie.” His name is Bertram, but everybody on the line calls him Bertie. He hates it, and I know that, and maybe I should have thought of that before I used the nickname because it’s not until I say it that he sneers at me.
“No wonder she’s getting moved up to front line,” he says, jerking his chin in Joelle’s general direction. “Shame you’re not into dudes, boss. Maybe then I’d finally get promoted too.” He rolls his eyes and leaves.
The room goes dark red.
Shit. Shitting hell. Goddamn it.
Joelle’s entire face is red now and it’s not the pretty blush I love so much.
What a fucking mess.
“We really shouldn’t be screwing around like this at work,” I say, looking back down the narrow hall toward the kitchen. Whispering won’t help now, not since Bertie saw us. They’ll be talking about us all over the restaurant within the hour. “This can’t happen again, Joelle.”
When she doesn’t immediately respond, I turn back around. She’s got tears in her eyes again, but this time she’s not sad.
Nope. The woman is pissed.
“Look, I only meant—”
“I know exactly what the fuck you only meant, Elliot,” she says. “I came back here for a couple of minutes of privacy. You’re the one who took advantage of that. You kissed me. And you have the nerve to act like this is my fault?”
Shit. Mayday, mayday.
“Joelle—”
“Just leave it alone,” she says, moving out of the storeroom while managing to avoid touching me at all. “I have work to do. Boss.”
I flinch.
“What about tonight? What time will you be over?”
She laughs, and it’s not the joyful sound from just a few short minutes ago. This time, it’s sad and sharp and full of something I never wanted to hear from her—regret.
“Forget it. I’ll find someplace else to stay.”
And with that, she’s gone.