Chapter 11
ELEVEN
“ Where the heart is really attached, I know very well how little one can be pleased with the attention of anyone else.”
~Jane Austen, Northanger Abbey
C an’t wait to see you all on Saturday! ~Love, Aunt Amanda.
An uneasy tremor hissed through Elle as she stared at the message from her mom on Tobey and Jerome’s wedding page’s message board. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. Gasping for breath, she gripped the edge of the sink.
“You’re fine,” she panted, her self-soothing words were empty promises.
Like a prisoner on death row her time drew near. The easiness she’d been lulled into over the last few days with Clayton, family, and old friends extinguished. In twenty-four hours, she’d be in the same space with her mom.
“Breathe,” she commanded herself, picking up her phone.
As administrator of the page, she had the power to make the message go away but didn’t have the power to make her mom go away. Taking in two reassuring breaths, she clicked Delete and then, Yes after the site asked her for confirmation of the action. She was sure. So, fucking sure.
“You’re okay,” she crooned in a self-soothing manner, hands shaking as she gathered her hair into a ponytail.
A knock sounded on the front door. She tossed the hairbrush aside and went to answer.
“Goo…” Clayton’s greeting halted, his eyes studying her.
Elle tilted her eyes to avoid his concerned gaze. But his strong arms enfolded her into a protective embrace. Her body trembled with unshed tears that she refused to release.
He brushed an escaped tendril behind her ear. “We can stay here. I can listen. We can talk. We can run. You decide. Either way, I’m here. I’m with you.”
He’s with me. Enveloped in the steadying embrace of his promise, she debated allowing her anguish to come out with this man, who was so willing to catch her if she fell.
“Let’s run,” she said instead, not yet ready to be caught.
“Uncle!” she declared an hour later, collapsing onto the ground.
“I may die,” Clayton groaned, falling beside her on the grass.
“It’s a good place for a grave,” Elle puffed, running her fingers in the crisp blades of grass. Long Beach’s grass was brittle and coarse, but this felt decadent against her slick skin. “I think I’ve missed grass.” Her head twisted toward Clayton.
They laid close enough to almost touch but far enough away to miss the heat of his presence. If only she’d let herself reach those few inches.
His mouth quirked. “They don’t have grass in California?”
“Not like this. It’s so silky.”
“All this time I thought you brought ladies flowers. I could have saved so much money by just bringing them grass,” he joked.
“Clearly you’ve been dating the wrong women.”
“Clearly.” A lopsided grin stretched across his face and her belly flipped.
How was this patient, kind, and thoughtful man divorced? Not to mention good looking. Elle’s heart fluttered as Aunt Janet’s words scampered into her thoughts.
“I shouldn’t ask, but I’m curious.” She gnawed her lip. “Your divorce…What happened?”
“You can ask me anything. Nothing much to tell. I was married and now I’m not.”
“What was she like?” Elle asked, letting her curiosity and his permission lead her.
“Marianne and I met in Veterinarian school at Cornell. We were in the same study group. She was from Pittsburgh and lives there now. She preferred cats to dogs.”
“Cats?” she guffawed.
“I know, a red flag,” he chuckled. “We were friends, and then we dated. I loved her but not in the way you’re supposed to.”
“How were you supposed to love her?”
“Like Darcy loved Lizzie.” A thoughtful smile curled his lips.
No further explanation was needed. Darcy and Lizzie’s love hadn’t been instant, even though the seeds were planted from their first meeting. It wasn’t swoony; although, the story made many readers swoon. Darcy didn’t recite poetry, bring flowers, or make cheesy romantic gestures. His was a quiet and enduring love of Lizzie, even when there appeared to be no hope that she returned the affection.
“You may read too many novels.” She winked.
“Says the woman in two book clubs,” he teased, tossing plucked grass at her.
“Hey! One of them is a professional book club so we only read nonfiction.” She ripped a few blades of grass free and tossed them at him in playful indignation. Elle bit her lip, but allowed the question rattling inside her to come out. “If you knew she wasn’t your Lizzie, why did you marry her?”
“Evan had died, and my mom was so sad. I think I just wanted to see her smile again. At the time, I didn’t realize why I was doing it. We had been dating a few years and I thought…” He struggled upright and stared into his lap, refusing to meet her glance.
“When did you realize?”
He shrugged. “Marianne and I didn’t fight. We just existed, doing the things couples do…getting married…buying a house. We were living in Ithaca at the time, and Noah had moved back here, so he’d drive up to see me from time to time. He saw it before I was willing to see it and told me I didn’t love her.”
“Wow.”
“It wasn’t anything about Marianne. He liked her. I liked her. Still do. We’ll text every few months to check in. I worried about divorcing her but not about her. I knew she’d be fine, but I worried about what my parents would think. I ha…ha…had…” He closed his eyes tightly as if hiding, not from his stumbling words but from what they meant. “I didn’t want to fail them. A few months later, we separated.I moved here. I moved in with Noah until the divorce was final and the house was sold. When I took over the clinic and then bought the farmhouse, Noah was with me every step of the way.”
“I’m glad you have Noah. He’s a good man.”
“He’s the better man.”
He’s not you. Those three words tapped against her closed mouth trying to get out, but she wouldn’t let them.
“You’re both good men,” she said instead, reaching to squeeze his hand.
“You’re pretty good yourself.”
“I don’t feel pretty good right now,” she said playfully. “I mean here you are showing me your granny panties and?—”
“Granny panties?” he laughingly interrupted.
“You know the stuff you don’t put out there for everyone to see. Your granny panties.”
“So, how do we rectify the granny panty situation?” Playfulness sparked in his eyes.
“I think it’s only fair for you to ask me anything as well.” Repositioning herself cross-legged, back straight, she braced for his question.
“Anything?” He drew out each syllable.
Elle looked at the sly glint in his eyes for a moment before nodding yes. Anxiety pulsed through her, but she’d meet his vulnerability with hers. There was so much he could ask. So much she wasn’t ready to say about her mom, about herself but she’d take Viet’s advice and be open.
“Do you want to go shopping for a desk chair Sunday afternoon?”
She burst out in relieved giggles. “You can ask me anything, and that’s the best you can come up with?”
“There are no boundaries to anything. Plus, you need a better chair, and it is a good investment for the Little Red Barn to have a chair that won’t hobble future guests. We could go Sunday after the post-wedding brunch. Braedon sent me some chair options and several locations in Buffalo where they can be purchased.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t send you a map to each store.” Hearing his quick snort, she shook her head, knowing they’d indeed done just that. “I would happily accompany you to purchase a chair, but I am buying the chair and dinner after.”
“But it’s for my establishment.”
“Because of my butt.”
“But I’ll be keeping the chair.” He stood up, brushing grass off his backside.
“Consider me an investor, then.”
“Deal.” He put out his hand for her, lifting her to her feet.
“Deal,” she replied with a grin.
“It’s a date.”
Had she just agreed to go on a date with Clayton? Yep.