Now
Elliott turned the head of every woman as we walked into the bar, searching for a spot to sit. It was packed, and the music was loud, but I liked the relaxed and friendly atmosphere.
“What am I getting you?” Elliott leaned in to ask, and I could smell his clean, crisp cologne.
“Vodka seven. Thank you,” I responded in his ear.
He ordered our drinks, then looked over at me and smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would be so loud. I’ve actually never been here, but I drive past it every day.” He had to lean into me again to speak. It was going to drive me crazy if he kept getting so close to me.
I shook my head at him teasingly.
“It’s fine. It looks like there’s a patio outside. Should we move out there?” I nodded toward the door leading outside.
He looked over, then back at me. “Let’s do it.”
Once we got our drinks, I followed him out to the patio, where only a few others sat. It was mid-January, and anything under 60 degrees was considered freezing in LA, so most people were inside.
We sat facing each other at a small, round table, and I was suddenly nervous; this felt like a date.
“So, Jacqueline,” Elliott started, obviously nervous as he took a deep breath.
I chugged down half of my drink. I needed liquid courage. “Elliott,” I responded, just as nervously.
“Do you know, uh…are you planning on staying where you’re at now? In that neighborhood?” He took a small sip of his drink.
I shrugged. “I think so. I like the area. I used to live in Burbank and the valley when…I lived here,” I trailed off, suddenly realizing I was opening up that topic.
He nodded. “I’ve been around Burbank as well. My office is actually over there,” he explained.
Okay, let’s put the focus back on him. “How long have you been a therapist?” I took another big sip of my drink.
“Um…about 10 years now. Have you been in the restaurant business for long?” He shifted in his seat, eagerly waiting for my response.
“My entire adult life.” I smiled. “Actually…I lived in Vegas for two years and…” I trailed off, unsure why I was about to tell him about that time in my life. Am I testing him? Or am I just tipsy already?
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue.
“I was a stripper. That was my first job,” I went on.
He blinked and gave me a grin, showing off his perfect teeth. “Well, I wasn’t expecting to hear that.”
“I wasn’t expecting to tell you.” I laughed, my cheeks burning.
“Did you also do that in New York?” he asked curiously.
I shook my head. “No. That’s where I started in the restaurant business.”
He nodded, watching me intently before he slowly smiled.
“What?” I grew even more nervous.
“You’re just so full of surprises.”
He tilted his head as he looked at me, observing me like I was the Mona Lisa.
I wanted to tell him how much I liked him. I wanted to tell him that he already made me so happy. But I couldn’t—I could never let myself fall in love again.
I slammed down the rest of my vodka seven. “I need another drink.”
He stood up quickly. “Let me get it for you.”
He was halfway to the door before I jumped out of my seat and followed him. Trust no one. He could be putting roofies in my drink. “I’ll come with you.”
We came back outside with my second drink while Elliott still nursed his first.
“So, can I ask you what made you come back to LA?” he asked as we sat back down.
I sighed heavily. “Um…let’s just say a bad breakup. A really bad breakup,” I answered vaguely. “It happened four years ago.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a good enough reason.” He nodded, finally taking a sip of his drink. “You still haven’t made me uncomfortable yet, by the way.” He smiled, and I felt my heart flipping around, begging me to run, to save him from me eventually ruining everything.
“Do you want to know why I’m traumatized?” I dared him, taking another big swig of my drink.
He eyed my drink and nodded. “If you’re comfortable with telling me. You’re not obligated to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
Is he actually perfect? Fuck.
“My dad killed my mom when I was six, and I’m the one who found her. A man that I had a…relationship with tied me up and mutilated my body. He continued to do so for months. He’s in prison, but he just called me before I decided to move here. He was trying to scare me, and it worked. I know I will never be able to trust another man again because every fucking man I’ve ever loved has destroyed me and my life.”
I was crying. Great . Elliott’s face never showed any emotion until he started speaking.
“Jacqueline.” He shook his head, his eyes full of sorrow. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I don’t even know what to say except that I can’t imagine what you’re possibly feeling. And…now I understand why you’re so wary of me.” He cleared his throat and put his hand on the table, as if he wanted to reach out to me. “I have no intention of hurting you, even as your friend.”
My lips twitched into a smile.
“Well, you’re easily the best therapist I’ve ever talked to,” I laughed. “And the most attractive.” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth; I was tipsy, but not that tipsy. And I had just told him my whole life story, and he didn’t even fucking flinch.
He looked down at the table and smiled, obviously blushing.
“Have I made you uncomfortable enough yet?” I teased.
“Believe it or not, no.”
I couldn’t deny it anymore—I was starting to fall for him. I needed to run, but my feet were firmly planted on the ground, pointed towards him, and I had no intention of ever turning them.