24. Elyse
CHAPTER 24
Elyse
FIVE-COURSE-MEAL
PRESENT
“ E lyse, you don’t have to do this,” my mom protests as I clean the living room of my childhood home.
She’s lying on the couch, looking at me like she’s contemplating ripping the hand-held vacuum out of my hands, if only to demonstrate I’m not doing it correctly.
“Well, you fired the cleaners I hired to help you out, so now I’m handling it.” I can’t help the annoyance in my voice. She’s not supposed to lift more than ten pounds for six weeks, which means she really can’t do much. To be nice, and help her out, I hired cleaners to come weekly for the next three months. They came one day, and she promptly let them go because they used chemicals she didn’t like. Which is valid, I get it, but maybe communicate before straight up firing them, and then trying to take on the cleaning as if nothing has happened.
My dad’s birthday celebration is today, and all of our family birthdays are at my parents’ house. I tried to convince them that we should do this one at the winery since we do larger events there, but they both said no, that it wasn’t homey enough.
My mom sighs and rolls her eyes, clearly not thrilled about being sidelined. “I just don’t like feeling useless.”
“You’re not useless.” I give her a reassuring smile. “But you need to rest and let me take care of things. We don’t want you overdoing it today.”
She sighs again, but nods in agreement. “I know, I know. I just hate being a burden.”
“You’re not a burden. And I’m not saying this to guilt you, but I need you to be healthy for the long haul. And besides, you’ve already done so much for us over the years. It’s our turn to take care of you.”
She studies me for a moment, her eyes softening. “You’re right. Thank you, sweetie. I appreciate you doing this.”
“Of course,” I reply, slightly out of breath. My townhouse takes me an hour to clean, tops. I’m not used to taking on as big of a space as this one on my own. “Now, why don’t you go relax and let me finish up in here?”
Standing, she gives my shoulder a squeeze before heading to her bedroom.
Before I can get lost in my task, the doorbell rings and rings and rings. I groan internally. Who’s here this early? When I open the door, Shane is standing with his arms full of bags, using his hip to continue to ring the bell.
“Walk slower than a sloth, why don’t you,” he mumbles, stomping past me. “These bags are heavy as fuck.”
“Hello to you, too. How’s your day? Mine’s great, I’ve only been cleaning for over an hour. By myself.” I tell him through a clenched jaw as I follow him into the kitchen.
He sets the bags on the marble kitchen island with a groan. “I thought you hired cleaners. We all pitched in.”
Crossing my arms, I rest my hip against the counter. “I did. Mom fired them.”
He blows out a huff. “Of course she did.”
Now that his arms aren’t full, he’s instantly in a much better mood.
“I’ve got the kitchen covered. Go back to doing your thing. And maybe call the twins, to get their asses over here and be useful. Or at least Marisa. Put that girl to work, she’ll be family if Ethan ever grows the balls to ask.”
“He’s going to ask her. He’s waiting for the timing to be right.”
Shane scoffs as he begins prep work, and puts his earbuds in, effectively dropping the conversation.
Shane’s insistence that Ethan needs to propose to Marisa has been an interesting development. For a man who’s allergic to monogamy and proud of it, he’s the last person I’d expect to give Ethan shit.
I smile to myself as I pad out of the kitchen, thinking Little Shane’s frontal lobe must be close to being fully formed. I still won’t hold my breath for him to settle down anytime soon, though.
Checking the clock, I see there’s still four hours left before guests start arriving. Plenty of time, but there’s still too much for me to get to and still have time to get ready.
With Ariana working and Layla at a nursing school lab, I decide to take Shane’s advice and text Marisa to come help. She replies almost instantly, saying she’ll be over in twenty-minutes.
I continue straightening the living room and fifteen minutes later, Marisa is at the front door but she’s not alone. Dominic is right beside her.
“Look who I ran into,” Marisa says, her smile way too wide, brushing past me with Dominic following.
When I don’t reply right away, because I’m afraid I’ll say something mean, she continues on. “I was at the post office when you texted me, and Dom was in front of me in line. I figured two hands are better than one.”
“But you have two hands, Marisa,” I grit with a forced smile.
Her grin fades. “Oh…right. You know what I mean.”
She could’ve at least given me a heads up, girl code and all. Had I known Dominic was tagging along with her, I would’ve made an attempt at looking presentable. Instead, he looks effortlessly good in jeans and a green Clore County Sheriff’s Office hoodie, his forearm tattoos peeking out over the pushed-up sleeves. Meanwhile, I’m wearing a ratty tank-top, leggings with holes, and a musty flannel tied around my waist. Not to mention, the sweat soaking my scalp, makes my hair look greasy, without a lick of makeup on. No one should see me like this, least of all my ex.
Unable to control myself, my gaze moves to his, meeting his dark brown eyes, laser-focused on me.
I try to break the connection, but I’m held captive, unable to do anything but stare right back.
He shrugs, giving me a boyish smile that makes my stomach dip. “I’m at your service, Ellie girl.”
“See,” Marisa exclaims excitedly, nudging my shoulder. “He wants to help.”
Her lack of subtly is enough to jolt my focus and I cast her a strained glance, clearly communicating I’m less than pleased with her meddling.
With widened eyes, she inches away. “I’m just going to go set down my stuff.” She fiddles with the strap of her purse, flashing a wink at me before rounding the hallway, out of sight.
The moment me and Dominic are alone, the foyer shrinks, the air between us inflating.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” There’s an unease in his voice, his usual air of confidence slipping.
Something about his hesitancy has a tightness forming in my chest. We’ve moved past my hostility, but we still don’t quite know how to act around each other. When I ran into him at The Jackalope, he made it pretty clear that he’s interested in trying again.
I don’t know if I am. Because trying again, means talking. It means explaining myself. And I think I’m too much of a coward to do it.
And what would be the point? He thinks I’m still the Ellie he’s always known. He thinks I’m a good person. But I’m almost certain the moment I let him in, he’d see all the ugliness inside of me. And then he won’t want me anymore. I’m not sure I’d survive that kind of pain.
I’d like to hope we can be friends, but I don’t think it’s possible.
Before we started dating, our friendship was laced with an undeniable current, an awareness that feelings were coming to the surface. We’ve never been just friends, even as kids, before either of us could comprehend it, Dominic always felt like more. Who are we to each other when more isn’t an option?
“Yeah,” I say nodding. “It’s okay. As long as you’re useful, you can stay.”
With a chuckle, he tilts his head, regarding me with an assessing stare. “I can be useful.”
A trickle of heat works its way down my spine, the atmosphere shifting in an instant.
He steps closer, his tongue rolling under his top lip, the tip just barely poking out as his eyes roam over me, so slowly I get a little dizzy. It’s not until his eyes stop at my hips that I finally take a shallow breath.
“Is that mine?” The corner of his mouth lifts in that lopsided smirk I’ve never been able to resist.
I look down at the red, and black checkered shirt he’s staring at. I grabbed it out the hall closet because I was freezing when I got here, only to get overheated while cleaning and tying it around my waist. I assumed it was my dad’s.
Before I can answer he loops his thumb over the knot and tugs me forward, his forefingers rubbing against the fabric.
“It is,” he says, a hint of amazement in his voice. His eyes lift to mine. “Funny that it’s been here this whole time.”
“Mmhmm,” I manage, fighting the urge to squirm. I was already hot, but now I’m on fire.
Our gazes hold as he lets me go, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved or?—
“You always did look good in my clothes,” he says while his eyes rake over me again, even more heated, if that’s possible.
“Stop,” I shout-whisper. It’s not as if anyone can hear me anyway, it’s just hard to speak normally when I’m being blatantly checked out. I’m fighting to not go in that direction but he’s leaning all the way into it.
“Stop what?” he chuckles, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. He’s doing this on purpose.
“Stop looking at me like that.” I step back, folding my arms. “You’re looking at me like I’m a five-course meal. And you’re obviously doing it to get under my skin.” I gesture to my outfit. “We both know I look terrible.”
His smile eases as he shakes his head. “Ellie girl, you’ve never looked terrible a day in your life. Always the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Not allowing me a chance to respond, he starts walking toward the hallway, leaving me with a slacked jaw and wrapped in his scent, only further turning me into an absolute puddle.
Just as he’s about to turn the corner, he stops short, and glances back at me. “About that five-course meal,” he begins, tugging on his bottom lip, his eyes staring at the increasingly wet spot between my thighs before his attention finally lands on my face. “I am starving for it.”