Chapter 21 Elijah
ELIJAH
I’ve never been this nervous before.
Talking to CEOs, lawyers, and financial advisors would send most scurrying to the sick bucket with nerves, but not me.
I’ve always prided myself on nerves of steel when it came to the hard decisions, something I’m sure I got from my father.
I’ve had arguments, stood in court and rained down hell on people trying to screw me and my family over, fought tooth and nail for the best gemstones and fair work conditions for miners all around the world.
Tougher men have crumbled but I never once wavered.
Tonight, I might as well be made of wet paper.
My hands tremble as I adjust my tie, loosening it around my throat with one tug. After a pause to see how it feels, I end up removing it entirely and opening the top button of my shirt, then I stuff my tie into my pocket and take a deep, slow breath.
This will be fine.
It’s just dinner.
Calliope said she would be delighted which is hugely promising, but my gut still won’t settle and there’s an off-rhythm patter in my heart that lurches every time the door to the bistro opens. I would have picked her up, but she wanted to come herself, and I respected her choice.
This little bistro is tucked out of the way, but a good crowd still sits around the buffet tables and all along the windows.
My table is the most private one I could get, tucked in the back corner near a wall of framed pictures of different modes of transport dating so far back that some of the dates are impossible to read. I study them all while I wait.
By the time I’ve read them all, my heart is beating slower and I’ve drunk two glasses of water. Then my phone rings and with it comes a surge of panic that it’s Calliope calling to cancel.
Thankfully, it’s Buster.
“Hey, stranger,” Buster drawls.
“What do you want?”
“Ouch. Bad time?”
“No, sorry. I’m just sort of in the middle of something.”
“Fair, I’ll be quick. Listen, I’ve done everything I can from my end, but I’m basically looking for a piece of hay inside a haystack, so have you learned anything that could point me in the right direction?”
Right. Buster’s been waiting for me to tell him who the likely culprit is for the hidden theft and fraud we stumbled upon. Following Jimmy’s advice is part of the reason I visited Calliope that day, but after spending time with her in her office and over coffee, nothing sticks out.
“Uhm…”
“Uhm? Since when do you uhm? Come on, the sooner you give me a name, the sooner I can get this over with.”
“I asked around. No one really jumps out but Jimmy, the boss? He named someone.”
“Who?”
“Calliope Locke.”
Buster’s silent for a second, then he laughs. “No way.”
“Listen, I don’t think she’s got anything to do with it.”
“Then my investigation will clear her name. I’ll be in touch. Miss you!” He ends the call with a sarcastic laugh and I roll my eyes, pocketing my phone.
Just in time, too, because a second later, the door opens and Calliope walks in.
I chose this place because it looked cozy, with New Year’s decorations glittering on the ceiling and an ornate silver-and-gold arch near the door.
It makes Calliope look stunning as she walks underneath and shakes a few loose flakes of snow from her black hair.
Her shawl falls away as she approaches the hostess stand.
I’m speechless.
She’s dressed in a sparkling silver party dress that hugs all her curves with just the right tightness that highlights her body while still leaving a little to the imagination. Her eyes are lined with black and her full, red lips pull into a polite smile as she talks to a server.
My mouth runs dry.
I’ve never seen her dressed up before. At the conference, it was casual, and since we were reunited, it’s been her work clothes or casual.
She looks absolutely beautiful and I suddenly feel a tad underdressed.
As the server leads her toward my table, I stand and smooth a hand down my shirt to smarten myself up and then I smile widely when our eyes meet.
“Calliope. Wow, you look…” I shake my head, struggling to find the right words. Thankfully, the server melts away and the moment Calliope takes my outstretched hand, it’s like we’re in our own little world.
“It’s not too much?” she asks, wobbling slightly on her black heels and gripping my hand tightly as she slips into her chair. Once she’s seated, I settle back into mine.
“Not at all!”
“I was worried it would be.” She chuckles. “I don’t have many going out clothes so I had to borrow this from a friend, and she’s definitely more on the…” Her lips twist slightly to the side. “Extravagant side of fashion.”
“I think you look beautiful,” I say earnestly. “I’m so pleased you could make it.”
Most of Calliope’s hair is swept to her left side, and a sparkly barrette hugs her hair on the right to keep it in place. It twinkles in the light as she shifts in her seat and smooths her hands over the menu. “The flowers you sent were beautiful.”
“I didn’t know what your favorite color was, so when I saw those dyed ones, I thought it would be the perfect choice because I faintly remembered you loved sunflowers, right?”
Her dark brows lift and a surprised laugh escapes her. “I do. You remember that?”
“Faintly. More so, I remember your stealing the sunflower centerpiece from the table next to us because you liked it way more than the peony one. So sunflowers were a safe guess.”
“Oh, man.” Calliope chuckles. “I completely forgot about that.” Both hands fly to her reddening cheeks. “I promise I won’t act like that here.”
“I’d have your back if you did,” I assure her. “Do you want something to drink?”
Twenty minutes later, we’re both drinking exceptionally fruity cocktails while waiting on our respective dinner choices.
“Was it tough to get childcare for Nick?” I ask, rescuing my lost cherry in my drink with the toothpick it escaped from.
“Not really. My friend Stacey loves looking after him, although I owe her quite the debt at this point.”
“Is that who you called the day I brought you home?”
She nods. “Stacey and I have been friends since school. There’s technically a group of us, but there’s only so many times you can decline an invite because of a child before they just stop asking.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I don’t lose sleep over it. Stacey stayed with me so I know she’s a real friend. The others… maybe when they have kids of their own, they’ll understand.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it is to raise a child. Being responsible for a whole other human sounds terrifying.”
Calliope sips her drink and I’m momentarily distracted by how her red lips caress the edge of the glass. “It’s scary, but it’s a good scary. Do you not want kids?”
“Oh, I do.” I nod hastily and smile when I finally catch the lost cherry. “I really do. But the transition scares me, I think. One day, kids would be amazing, but…” After popping the cherry in my mouth, I chew slowly while Calliope waits patiently. “I think I fear turning into my own parents.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
I shrug but am forced to pause as a server appears and sets my blackened halibut down in front of me. The smell immediately hits me in the gut and my mouth waters. Calliope thanks the server for her chicken Milanese and after they leave, we dig in.
“What I mean is… my parents weren’t exactly warm.
When my father passed, I was young and had to take on a lot of his responsibilities.
And my mom softened with age, especially when she got sick.
But I look back at how they raised me and I worry that I’ll end up doing the same even if I don’t mean to. Does that make sense?”
Calliope nods around a mouthful of chicken.
“It does.” She swallows. “I have the same fear. I won’t lie and say it’s easy because it’s not.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Nothing in my life is more important or more precious than my son.
But living with my mom is… tough. I see how she wants to do things and how she reacts when I actively avoid what she used to do to me. It creates… tension.”
“Have you lived with her for long?”
Calliope shakes her head. “I have my own place down by the bay, but when my dad passed, I knew Mom would crumble, so I’m renting my place out just to cover the mortgage and stuff.
As soon as the renter pays me, it basically goes directly to the bank.
I wanted to support Mom and I guess… also myself. ”
“Is it working?” The fish melts like butter in my mouth as I watch Calliope eat slowly.
“I don’t know. Nick is happy and some days, that’s all I care about.”
“What about you, though?”
She glances up at me, and the intensity of her blue eyes causes my breath to catch in my throat. “What about me?”
“Who takes care of you?”
Calliope glances back at her meal and picks up her drink. After drinking slowly for a few seconds, she smacks her lips together and smiles. “No one. But I also take care of myself, so it’s fine.”
“That sounds hard.”
She laughs softly. “You’re one to talk.”
“I am?”
“Mmhmm. I don’t buy your story about coming out here so that your staff could spend New Year’s with their families. Not that I think you’re a dick, but it sounds to me like you ran away. You did the opposite of me.”
“I did?”
“Yes! I ran toward my pain and returned to Mom’s house to surround myself in Dad’s memories. You lost your mom, went through a breakup that needed lawyers, and what’s the next thing you do? You fly across the entire country to escape your pain. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I wish I could, but she’s struck me right to the core with truth I try to avoid. Laughing softly, I drain my glass in one gulp. “What can I say? You’ve got me figured out.”
Her eyes narrow slightly and warmth floods her gaze as she watches me. “Not all of you.”
“Good. A man needs some mystery.”
Our conversation turns to softer topics as we share a dessert of vanilla bean crème br?lée.
I learned about her favorite movie, a romance flick that she loves because the ending comforts her.
Her favorite color is orange but only because it’s Nick’s favorite color, and as soon as he declared his love for it, it became hers.
I tell her about my old dog I used to have and how running just isn’t the same without him, and we delve into childhood stories over coffee, bringing the night to a warm, satisfying end.
“So,” I say as I lead her out of the bistro while she adjusts her shawl over her shoulders to protect from the cold, “have you figured out any more about me?”
“A little.” Calliope smiles. Her cheeks are rosy with warmth and alcohol, and her eyes sparkle with mirth. “You’re not as well packaged as you seem, Elijah.”
“I hope that’s a compliment.”
“Sure.” She giggles and her hand clutches at my forearm. “It is. It is. You’re very much a gentleman, but there’s something so honest about you underneath. I like that.”
We stand on a sidewalk covered in a light dusting of snow, snow that floats around us in soft, dusty flakes that act as if they’re too scared to continue to the ground. Some drift and settle into Calliope’s hair and catch on her lashes as she gazes up at me.
I raise my arm, and a taxi pulls to a stop next to us in record time.
“I like that you like that,” I say softly. “Because I like you.”
Her lips twitch. “I could tell,” she replies. “This was…” Her head shakes. “Everything about tonight was amazing. Not just the food and the place and being able to dress up and feel like a woman other than a mom… It was beautiful. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Thank you for accepting. I’d love to do this again,” I say as I open the door for her, but as she moves forward as if she’s about to get in, I place my other hand on the roof of the taxi so that she’s lightly trapped between my arms and between my body and the car.
“Me too, but Elijah… things could get complicated.”
“Hush,” I say softly. “There’s only one more thing. Miss Locke?”
“Yes, Mr. Baird?” She looks up at me through her lashes and her lips part slightly. A single snowflake survives the heat between us and lands directly on her lower lip.
“I want to kiss you right now.” My voice trembles, low and deep as I gaze deeply into her eyes.
My heart’s racing like I’m running a marathon and butterflies flutter around my gut.
This moment, this single moment, tells me whether I’m on the right path or not.
Whatever complications she fears, I’ll soothe as soon as I can.
But in this moment, it’s just me and her.
“Then kiss me,” she whispers, and a tremor warms her words.
I lean forward slowly until our noses touch and she tilts her head up for a better angle.
An inch away from kissing her, I hesitate and let the anticipation burn until she curls one hand into my shirt.
Then I lean the rest of the way and kiss her, trapping that single snowflake between our mouths and drinking down the brief bite of cold that’s instantly soothed by the warmth of her mouth.
She tastes of fruit and chocolate, her lips as soft as they look. I keep the pressure respectful, even as heat curls low in my belly, and match the shift in her head as she adjusts the position of the kiss.
Everything about her that I love floods to the forefront of my mind and when her hand slides up the side of my neck, my heart jumps.
I’m definitely on the right path.