30. Scarlet
THIRTY
SCARLET
The last few weeks have been some of the best of my life.
James’s birthday party—which was both train and construction themed—was perfect. Ellis and I even went in on a gift together. And don’t even get me started on how cute he was with his smash cake.
More importantly, my stalker has been blessedly quiet. Maybe he lost interest or found someone else to torment. Who knows? Hopefully the psycho’s in jail. All I know is I’m thankful for the reprieve.
Ellis, on the other hand, thinks his silence is the quiet before the storm, and he’s more protective than ever.
He even insisted on tagging along for our final dress fitting and Nora’s bachelorette party—which he also roped Atlas into.
I’ll never recover from seeing them both in fluffy spa robes, their faces painted with thick mud, and fruity mocktails clutched in their big paws.
“What’re you laughing at?” Ellis asks, pausing outside the bathroom door.
“Just thinking...” I swipe on a layer of lip gloss.
“About?” He leans into the room, bracing his hands on the door frame.
“You.”
“And thinking of me made you giggle like that?” He steps all the way into the room and grabs me by my waist, spinning me to face him.
I give him a once over, and my jaw drops. He looks freaking delicious, dressed in a dark button down, with the sleeves rolled, gray chinos, and black boots. “Holy hell, I cannot wait to see you in a suit.”
“You like?” he asks, picking imaginary lint from his shirt.
“I love.” My cheeks burn, and I know they’re as pink as my lip gloss. His are, too, but I refuse to think too hard about why. “You look very handsome.”
“And you look like a goddess.” He looks me over the same way I did him, taking in my little black dress and thigh high boots. “Let’s not get distracted. What were you thinking about, Princess?”
“You... at the spa.” I crack up all over again. “It might be the background on my phone.”
“Should’ve known.” He shakes his head like he’s annoyed but the ways his eyes crinkle at the corners tells me he’s not really. “I’ll never live that down, will I?”
“Not likely.” I turn away from him and unplug my curling iron. “You gonna tell me where we’re going finally?”
“No can do.” He rocks back on his heels.
“Yes, can do. You’re choosing not to.”
“God forbid I want to surprise the woman I—” He snaps his mouth closed so fast his teeth clack together.
“The woman you what?” I whisper, those four words freezing time.
I watch in fascination as he grimaces, his chest rises in time with his sharp inhale.
“Tell me,” I beg, stepping closer to him. “Please, Ellis. Tell me what you were going to say.” I wrap my arms around him, staring up into his stormy eyes.
“I lied to you,” he finally says, and the hope blossoming in me withers and dies.
“Oh, okay.” I drop my arms from around him and take a step back, bumping into the bathroom vanity. “A-about what?”
He scrubs a hand over his scruffy jaw. “French toast.”
“What?” I rest my weight against the counter, my mind racing for answers I don’t have.
“When you asked me why Atlas was so bent out of shape over the French toast, I lied.”
“Seems like a weird thing to lie about.” I cross my arms over my chest, gripping my upper arms, trying to physically hold myself together when all I want is to fall apart. How did we go from getting ready for our first real date to... whatever this is?
He nods. “Let’s sit down and talk?” He’s the picture of cool, calm, and collected.
Meanwhile, I’m on the verge of falling apart. I thought he was about to tell me he loved me. Stupid, stupid Scarlet. I couldn’t even keep my stalker’s attention, so what hope did I ever have of keeping a man like Ellis Wilder’s?
“Sure… okay,” I say, in a daze. When I make no move to follow him, he steps back into the bathroom, guiding me with a hand to the small of my back.
I sit, as if on autopilot, hands clasped in my lap waiting for the inevitable let down. After all, no one’s ever wanted to keep me before.
I wrack my brain, trying to pick up on the signs I missed. But nothing comes to mind.
“If you want me to leave, I will—”
“What?” he rears back like I slapped him. “Why would I want you to leave?”
“I don’t know.” My bottom lip quivers. “I’m so confused right now, Ellis. I don’t understand what’s happening. I thought I did, but—”
“God, I’m fucking this all up, huh?” He drops down next to me, bundling me into his arms. “I do not, in any way, shape or form, want you to leave, Scarlet. But I do want you to listen. Can you do that for me?”
I let out a shuddery exhale and nod.
He releases me, sitting up but, angling himself toward me. “I told you Atlas blew it out of proportion because my dad taught me to make it, and this is partially true. What I didn’t tell you was... it’s sort of an unofficial tradition in my family.”
“French toast is an unofficial family tradition, and you lied about it?” Individually, those are all words I know but strung together they sound nonsensical. Like gibberish. “I-I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”
“When my dad realized he loved my mom, he cooked her French toast.”
“Okay,” I whisper, confusion churning in my gut like a stormy sea. “That’s... nice.”
“When my grandpa fell in love—same thing. And his dad... you guessed it. French toast. It sounds asinine when I say it out loud, that there’s some emotional significance on a common breakfast food, but for the men in my family, there is.”
“And Atlas got upset, because he mistook it to mean you loved me.” Clarity strikes me like a bolt of lightning—both painful and illuminating. “That makes sense, I guess.”
“Except he was right,” Ellis says, his knee bouncing a mile a minute. “I fucking love you, Scarlet.”
“What?” I croak. Surely, I misheard him. Because there’s no way Ellis Wilder just told me he loved me.
“I love you,” he says simply, grabbing both of my hands and interlacing our fingers.
“Are you... sure?” Maybe he’s confused. Or telling me what he thinks I want to hear.
“Very.” He nods once. “I think I’ve known it for a while, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know I was a shit to you.”
“No,” I rush. “I do. I love you, too. So much. I just...” I blink rapidly, trying to stave off the tears threatening to fall.
“I’m so confused and maybe a little overwhelmed.
I definitely thought you were breaking things off, not confessing your love.
My, uh, my body apparently needs a little time to catch up to my brain.
My fight or flight is still working overtime here. ”
“Say it again,” he commands.
And I’m all too happy to comply. “I love you, Ellis.”
He closes his eyes, something akin to rapture passing over his features.
“Hell yes, you do. And you better always stay and fight when it comes to us.” He brings our joined hands to his mouth and kisses each of my knuckles.
“Don’t you know, baby girl, there’s nowhere you could go that I wouldn’t find you?
You’re it for me—my end game, even if it took me helluva long time to get my head out of my ass to see it.
I’m an enlightened man now, and you’re mine, to keep, forever and always. ”
“Do you...” I worry my lip between my teeth. “Do you really mean that?”
“With every ounce of my being. Now, go fix your mascara so we can make our reservations. I’m already thinking about all of the ways I want to worship your body and show you my love once we get back home.”
“We could just stay home,” I offer, even as I stand and head for the bathroom. “Why wait?” My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl.
“That’s why. Let me feed you, then I’ll fuck you. As many times as you want, over and over again.”
“Promises, promises,” I call over my shoulder.
“Damn straight.” He reaches down and readjusts himself in his slacks. “Promises I intend to deliver on.”