4. Elyse
CHAPTER 4
Elyse
FULL-ON CUFFS
PRESENT
I drag myself into work, still feeling exhausted from yesterday’s shit show.
My office sits on the second floor of my family’s winery, Ledger Estate Winery and Vineyards, tucked near the balcony of the ballroom. Instead of my usual route through the main entrance, I slip in through the back, wearing my most oversized sunglasses, as if they will somehow disguise me.I’d rather not deal with the staff’s curious looks—or worse, their questions—after the rumor mill’s no doubt been churning about my arrest.
Once I reach the second floor, I make sure to steer clear of Ethan’s side of the office. I really don’t have it in me to sit through one of my brother’s lectures.
Setting my bag on the desk, I roll my shoulders, the tension from the last twenty-four hours refusing to ease. It’s going to be a long day. But before I can power up my laptop, the faint sound of footsteps approaching makes me pause.
“Morning, Elyse!” Faith’s voice cuts through the silence, a wide grin on her face. My other two interns, Ben and Paisley, follow behind her, all three of them looking far too chipper for this early hour.
“Morning, guys.” I force a smile, bracing myself for what’s coming. These kids have been a handful, but they mean well. And I forgot, Fridays are when they spend the entire morning in the office. “What’s up?”
Faithsmirks and nods toward my desk. “Notice anything different?”
I furrow my brows in confusion, roaming my eyes across the wooden desk. “Why? What did you guys do?”
Paisley laughs, shaking her head. “To your left.”
And that’s when I see it, my eyes snag on it, not sure if I should be embarrassed or impressed.
It’s a framed copy of my mugshot sitting amongst the cluster of family photographs I have displayed. How they managed to get it so quickly is beyond me. I doubt it’s even hit public records yet. I pluck it, staring at it more closely. My bright red lipstick only draws more attention to the corner of my mouth lifting in a fuck you smirk.It’s got that messy, early-2000s celebrity mugshot vibe—and I kind of love it.For as pissed off as I was about the whole thing, I actually look pretty good.
“Oh my gosh.” I turn back to them, trying to keep my voice stern, but my lips twitch despite myself.
Faith’s smile widens. “We thought you’d appreciate some humor after yesterday’s…events.”
Ben snickers, leaning against the doorframe. “My cousin Nicky works for the sheriff’s office, she did me a solid.”
Well, that explains how they were able to get ahold of the picture so quickly.
Paisleychuckles. “Plus, it’s kind of iconic now. I mean, you look like a Hollywood actress. ”
I shake my head, trying not to smile. “You guys got me,” I admit.
I’m almost thankful they broke the ice. The last thing I’m in the mood for is explaining every detail of what occurred. I’m glad they’re lightening the mood. After all, they could’ve been annoying about it, but they chose to playfully tease me instead.
I laugh, setting the picture down.“It’s creative, I’ll give you that.”
The irony of it sitting between my college graduation photo and a family portrait from a charity gala the winery hosted—forever the bad seed in my family, no matter how hard I try to hide it.
“Oh, and these came for you.” Ben hands me a vase of red roses. My favorite.
I set them down and immediately grab the card nestled in the arrangement. I don’t often get flower deliveries.
The card reads: “Thinking of you. S.”
S?
I have to think for a moment, and then laugh for not realizing it sooner.
“Who are they from? Secret admirer?” Faith asks.
“My best friend, Scottie. She’s just being a brat.”
I’ll have to remember to text her later, but right now I need to get into work mode.
To keep the interns from getting further distracted by my embarrassing arrest, I hand them the training packets I meant to give out yesterday. That should keep them preoccupied for the time being—my brain is too scattered to dole out assignments.
They head back to their desks and get to work before leaving for their afternoon classes at the local community college.
Meanwhile, I spend the next few hours buried in mindless tasks, my inbox overflowing with client inquiries and questions from vendors. We’re one of the only wedding venues in the area to offer full planning services—something I implemented when I took over. Most venues only provide a day-of coordinator, making Ledger one of the more desirable places to host a wedding. With it being nearly wedding season, it seems everyone picked today to start their planning in earnest. I’m answering emails, confirming appointments, and sorting through vendor contracts when the phone rings.
“Elyse Ledger, Event Coordinator.”
“Hi, it’s me.” I immediately recognize Marisa’s voice. She’s my brother, Ethan’s girlfriend, but she was my friend first, so I still claim her.
My forehead creases. “Why are you calling my work phone?”
“I tried your cell, you didn’t answer and your voicemail box is full.”
Picking up my phone, I notice it’s on silent and littered with missed calls. Fuck me. I must’ve switched it to silent after everyone kept blowing me up last night—everyone being my siblings and Scottie because they lost their minds when they heard about the arrest.
“Oh, sorry. What’s up?”
“I’m picking up lunch at the diner for Ethan and wondered if you want me to grab you something. My treat.”
Marisa doesn’t have a sly bone in her body. “Are you offering out of kindness or because you want details?”
She laughs. “Can it be both?”
Snorting, I shake my head. “Sure. Get me the club sandwich with a side salad.”
Thirty minutes later, Marisa waltzes in with a takeout bag in tow, her lipstick smeared, hair tangled, and her top looks twisted. She obviously stopped by Ethan’s office first. I don’t even want to think about what those two were up to. She’s already told me more than I wish I knew.
She notices my pinched face as she hands me the bag. “What? Do I have something on my face?”
I huff a laugh. “Yeah, my brother’s spit.”
After settling in the chair across from me, she whips out a compact, fixing her makeup and smoothing her hair. “Sorry.” She giggles, not looking the least bit sorry. “We got a little caught up.”
“I don’t need to know,” I sing-song.
Although acting annoyed, I’m actually very happy for them. If it weren’t for me, they’d never be together. When Marisa temporarily moved to Red Mountain from Seattle, she ended up stuck living next door to my grumpy-ass brother. I saw the sparks between them immediately, but they took a while to catch on. All the tiptoeing those two were doing around each other was driving me up a wall, so I used my Cupid powers for good and encouraged them along.Now, they’re madly in love, and my punishment is having to hear all the sordid stories.
Marisa eyes me suspiciously as I dig into my sandwich, her lips curling into a smirk. “So…are we going to ignore the fact that you were arrested yesterday?”
I freeze, the lettuce from my club sandwich halfway to my mouth. “Just diving right in, aren’t you? This is off the record, right?”
Marisa works for the Red Mountain Herald , so it’s not insensitive of me to ask. Her eyes roll, annoyed.
“Like I would ever do that to you. Of course it’s off the record, it’s always off the record.”
“Fine,” I relent with a sigh, knowing if I don’t tell her, she’ll eventually drag it out of me.
She claps excitedly. “Now, spill. What did you do to get hauled off in handcuffs?”
I groan, setting the sandwich down and rubbing the bridge of my nose. “It wasn’t even a real arrest. There was a bench warrant because I missed a jury duty summons. My address was outdated—not exactly scandalous behavior.”
Marisa gasps dramatically, clutching imaginary pearls.“Elyse Ledger, hardened criminal. You would’ve been a hot commodity on one of those date-a-prisoner sites.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, fighting a laugh as I take a generous bite, buying myself time before I need to speak. “It was a mistake. I’ll see the judge soon and I’m sure it’ll be a fine or some expedited jury duty assignment. I’m not a criminal.”
“But Dom was the one who arrested you?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with glee. “Like, full-on cuffs and everything?”
I let out a breath, deeply regretting this conversation. After Dominic crashed my parents’ anniversary celebration last month, Marisa was full of questions. A girl's night and a few bottles of wine later and she’s now fully up to speed on our very long history. She even managed to convince my mom to whip out some old photos at a recent family dinner, and I’m almost positive she pocketed the one of me in my cheerleading uniform and Dominic in his football one. So high school it’s disgusting.
“Yes, full-on cuffs. It was humiliating. He put me in the back of his cruiser and everything.”
Marisa lets out an amused laugh, covering her mouth as she chews. “Oh my God, you must’ve been losing your mind.”
“You have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “After I was booked, they threw me in a holding cell with Slashing Sherry. All I could think was, ‘This cannot be my life right now.’”
She grins wickedly, resting her chin in her hands. “I can’t get over the fact that he actually did it. Do you think he planned it or something to get your attention?”
I glare at her with a deadpan expression. “He looked just as surprised as I was about the warrant. I doubt he planned it, and I doubt he wants my attention.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says dripping with false innocence. “I think he wants more than your attention.”
I groan again, louder this time. “You’re just as bad as my mother. There’s nothing there. Ancient history.”
Marisa’s smirk grows impossibly wider. “You know, he was the one who called Ethan to tell him what happened. Then Ethan told him to call Jack and fill him in.”
“So much for sibling code,” I mutter before taking another bite, busying myself with my food.
We sit in comfortable silence for a stretch, both of us focused on our meals. If I focus on my food, then I won’t think about him. I won’t replay in my head over and over again the feel of his warm sturdy hands, his breath on my skin, how he felt familiar and new all at once. I don’t know why he moved back, but I’ve been off-balance ever since. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine living without him, until I forced myself to. But now? Living in the same town as nothing but strangers, with enough history to fill a text-book, it’s somehow worse.
Marisa’s face flushes as she looks at me through her lashes, her phone clutched in her hands. So much for comfortable silence.
“Was it hot…when he cuffed you?” she whispers, glancing at the doorway as if someone might hear her.
I drop my head into my hands, a combination of frustration and wanting to laugh, because what the hell kind of question is that?
“No, it’s not like I was checking him out while he was arresting me!”
She giggles and turns her phone to face me. On it are several different kinds of handcuffs. The furry kind. The kind not used by cops.
That’s when it dawns on me—she’s asking for herself.
“How many times do I have to remind you to not tell me about the freaky shit you guys are into? I’d rather not lose my lunch.”
She snickers. “It’s not my fault my only friends here are related to my boyfriend. You guys just need to suck it up.”
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes at her, shaking my head with a laugh.
Obviously, I was too angry with Dominic to think beyond the shock of being arrested, but later that night, once I was home, yeah…it was pretty hot. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud. I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more that I thought about it while using one of the several battery powered boyfriends I keep in my nightstand. There’s something seriously wrong with me.
Marisa raises a brow at me, her tone losing its teasing edge. “You know, if he still cared enough to call someone for you, maybe it’s not exactly ancient history. He could’ve just let you rot. Who knows how long it would’ve taken for them to give you your one phone call if he hadn’t been there?”
She’s trying to make him seem like the hero, when really I should’ve been allowed a phone call after I was processed, but for whatever reason a deputy took me straight back to a cell. I’m not super well-versed in criminal law, but I know that much at least. Being a documentary connoisseur like myself will teach you a thing or two.
Marisa is being way too reasonable and logical about this whole thing, when I would much rather stew about it until I turn bitter and no longer fantasize about Dominic in that skin-tight uniform. It’s like he knows he looks good in it. If she keeps talking, my already thin resolve will crumble—and I can’t let that happen.
“I’m sure Ethan is super sad that you’re with me instead of him. Maybe you should go cheer him up. ”
Her lips purse slightly as she levels me with a pointed stare, but she’s smart enough to take the hint, and stands to leave. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone.”
“Bye, Marisa.” I flash her a smile.
She stands in the doorway, her probing gaze seeing beyond my false easiness. “If the roles were reversed, you would be relentless.”
As she turns to go down the hallway, I shout out, “good thing you’re not me, then!”
Rather than be alone with my thoughts, I text Scottie.
Thank you for the flowers!!
SCOTTIE
What flowers?
The roses…
SCOTTIE
Babe I didn’t send you any flowers. Must be from a secret admirer
My stomach sinks. That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear. Fuck.
Or your prison lover
The front door clicks shut behind me, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of my townhouse. I press my back against it, exhaling a dragged, quiet breath as the long day finally slips from my shoulders. Home. At last.
I drop my bag onto the entry table, wincing as it tips over, spilling its contents—several lip products, contracts, bridal magazines, a half-empty bottle of ibuprofen.
Whatever. I’m too tired to care.
Kicking off my heels, I leave them where they land and head straight to the kitchen. It’s almost a ritual at this point: pour a glass of wine, microwave whatever leftovers I can scrounge up, and pretend I don’t mind eating alone. Tonight’s gourmet feast is two-day-old pasta and a wilted salad that should’ve been thrown out yesterday.
I rest against the counter as the microwave roars, staring out the window at thequiet street below. The glow of the corner lamppost drapes across the pavement, illuminating the row of small shops closed for the evening. Sagebrush Diner, Layered Bakery, Trove and Treasure Antiques—they all look like they belong on a postcard. The kind people send from charming little towns where everyone knows everyone, and no one is lonely.
Lonely is a feeling I’m all too familiar with—it’s my normal. I’m perpetually dateless for big events. Having given up on dating after realizing I’d be resigned to a dating pool filled with incels living in their mom’s basements, guys I grew up with who peaked in high school, and divorcés looking for a wife to take care of them.
On occasion, I’ll entertain a casual fling, but only long enough to scratch the itch and then I’m done. I like being alone. I like that my choices are my own and I never have to defend or explain why I needed to order sushi and Taco Bell in one night.
But for every good day alone, it only takes one bad one to derail me. To make me question all the choices I’ve made leading up to this point in my life. And lately? It’s been more often than not.
Everything is too quiet, too still. I can see through the windows of a wine bar across the street where a couple lingers over a cheeseboard. Outside of it, there’s a bench where teenagers are hanging out, laughing and scrolling through their phones. Beside them, the darkened windows of Wildflower Bookshop stand, still smelling like old pages and weathered wood despite a recent remodel. It’s picturesque. Perfect, even.
And yet, all I feel is how small it all is. How big the empty silence feels in comparison.
By the time the microwave beeps, I’m already regretting not stopping for something fresh on the way home. I eat standing up, fork in one hand, wine glass in the other, flipping through emails on my phone between sips and bites.
Another bride wants to change her floral arrangements—again. The mother of a groom has questions about seating charts, which really means she wants me to referee a family feud. And my favorite—a last-minute cancellation from a DJ who “apologizes for the inconvenience.”
I close my phone with a sigh and set it on the counter. For all its chaos, I love my job. But sometimes, it feels like everyone else is celebrating something—love, family, milestones—and I’m just the facilitator. I make the magic happen but never get to actually experience it for myself.
After finishing my sad excuse for a dinner, I shuffle into the living room and sink onto the couch. My feet throb from hours in heels, and I stretch them out, wiggling my toes like it’ll somehow undo the damage.
The remote sits on the coffee table next to a stack of new books I wish I could dive into if my eyes weren’t so dry and tired. I know if I turn on the TV, I’ll fall asleep halfway through whatever I’m watching. I grab it anyway, flipping aimlessly through streaming services, the silence is unbearable. Romance movies, wedding shows, reality dramas about couples finding love—it’s like the universe is taunting me.
I settle on a documentary about a woman who killed her husband, something neutral and unromantic. As the narrator drones on, I’m reminded of my jail cell mate and wonder if I’ll ever see her in a documentary one day.
Glancing at the empty spot on the couch next to me, for a second, I imagine what it would be like to come home to someone. To share the leftover pasta, complain about work, and laugh about all my weird work emergencies.
Shaking my head, I push the thought away, fixing my gaze back to the TV. Not sure where that came from.
When even the wife’s murderous confession can’t grab my attention, I reach for my phone, needing a change of plans.
Ignoring the string of missed calls from a number I don’t recognize again, I send a message in the group chat with my sisters, our cousin Tawny, and Marisa, to see if anyone’s up for a drink at The Jackalope. Sometimes, being out in a crowd helps quiet my overactive mind, offering a welcome escape from the solitude of my townhouse.
Anyone free for a drink? On me.
LAYLA
Ugh wish I could. I have a practicum to study for
ARIANA
I’m already in bed for the night. Sorry Elle
MARISA
We’re getting ready for bed. Rain check?
TAWNY
Girl, I’m too old and tired.
With no replies worth following up on, I block the unknown number and flip my phone over, trying to return my focus on the documentary. Though, I’m quickly realizing it was a mistake to put this on when there’s nothing but men in uniform all over the screen. Great, like I need yet another reminder. I let out something close to a growl and flick the TV off.
Padding to the kitchen, I refill my wine glass to the brim, put my earbuds in, and slip into my pajamas before getting in bed. Who needs men, anyway? Not when there’s an endless supply of smutty audiobooks and wine to keep me company.