Chapter 35 Elijah
ELIJAH
Goddammit.
I slump against the wall after she leaves.
She was entirely correct. I did it because I was jealous, and selfish.
I did it because I’ve spent the entire day seething over his presence and the way he treated her.
That fucking look he gave her when she took a piece of cake nearly ended me.
I stayed away from them all night just to keep myself in check.
I did try to ruin it. She deserves the things he could give her—a great career and a family—but she also deserves to be with someone she loves, and someone who worships the fucking ground she walks on. That’s not him.
It’s me. Both those things are me. But it would be so fucking selfish to let her take the risk—I know how returning to Oak Bluff, even occasionally, would work out for her—and we’d never have a normal life together otherwise. It might be decades until we’re in the same place.
I head downstairs. I’ll find a way to apologize at the after-party, if I can persuade her to hear me out.
That’s a big if.
Why would she, after the shit I said to her? After the way I’ve jerked her around?
Betty is in the foyer, drooping with fatigue. She asks me to help her out to the cottage next door. Summoning a civility I barely possess, I tell her I’d be happy to do it.
Betty is hobbling along beside me, gripping my arm for support as we walk along the gravel path. “I shouldn’t have worn these heels,” Betty says. “They’re nothing next to the ones Easton had on, though, are they?”
I wince. Easton looked like a million bucks in those shoes. Especially when her dress was around her waist.
“Right,” I say absently.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you two,” she says. “Well, I do know, to some extent, but Carol keeps telling me it’s complicated. But we spent two full days bored to tears, so I hope you figure things out.”
I glance at her. “Which days?”
“That road trip we took! Carol said you needed time alone, so we went to some hideous golf resort Paul has a timeshare at. I don’t even golf.”
I laugh. Easton would never in a million years believe that my grandmother was doing that to help us.
“You do realize,” Betty says, “that she’s as in love with you as you are with her, though, right?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
She nods, fiddling with her key. “I figured you did. I just wanted to be sure. I can’t believe I ever tried to help her win back that jackass. Try not to be an idiot, okay? You can figure this out.”
My laughter fades, and my answering smile is stiff. “It’s not that simple.”
“I’ll bet it’s a lot more simple than you’re telling yourself it is,” she counters.
It isn’t, though. Easton needs to be kept as far from Oak Bluff as possible, and that’s all there is to it. I’m willing to give up anything for her, and I am. I’m giving her up, when she’s the thing I want most.
I go back to the reception tent, but the table where Easton sat is empty. I find my grandmother, who is wrapping pieces of cake in paper napkins for some reason.
“Have you seen Easton?” I ask.
My grandmother’s gaze rises from her stack of cake slices, her eyes sad for me. “She left, honey. She seemed to be arguing with her boyfriend, and they took off.”
Fuck.
I thought for sure she’d be at the after-party...she’s Kelsey’s maid of honor. Is her absence related to me? Jesus, I hope not.
I was jealous, and yeah, I was trying to make a point—that she shouldn’t be with Thomas, even if it meant being alone—but did I drive her toward him instead?
“He treats her like a child,” I say. “Did you notice that?”
She raises a brow. “He’s not the only one.”
I slump into a chair. “Are you implying that I’m treating her like a child? In what possible way?”
“I don’t have all the details, Elijah, but I’ve got some guesses.
” She pulls out the chair closest to me and takes a seat.
“You love that girl so much you can’t see straight, but you also had to grow up way too early and think it’s your job to take care of everyone, so you’re either not with her because you don’t trust Kelsey with your mom while you’re up in Boston—”
“Of course I trust Kelsey.”
She exhales heavily. “I know that. Which means it’s option number two: you don’t trust Easton when she’s visiting you.”
I blink. She’s closer than I’d have expected her to get, but she’s missed a lot of the nuance. “It’s not that simple,” I argue for the second time in fifteen minutes. “Her family is a mess.”
“I’m sure it’s not simple at all,” she says.
“My point stands, however. You’re protecting her like she’s still that pretty teenager you didn’t want to have a crush on, but she’s actually an adult with more advanced degrees than this entire family has put together.
What gives you the right to make her decisions for her?
Tell me how that makes you any better than Mr. Famous TV Doctor.
It makes you worse than Thomas, to be honest. Because he’s not breaking her heart, and you are. ”
I bury my head in my hands. I want to argue that it’s entirely different.
That Thomas demanding she go to bed early and not eat pizza is in no way the same thing as keeping her away from her shitty family.
But it’s not as different as I’d like. “She’ll wind up in jail if her brothers are around, Grandma. Believe me.”
My grandmother squeezes my shoulder as she rises, then grabs her napkin of cake.
“I don’t doubt that. But if you don’t respect her enough to let her make those decisions for herself, then you don’t even deserve her.
She’s better off with a man who doesn’t want her to have cake than she is with a man who can’t see her as a capable adult. ”
I laugh miserably. “Easton would never in a million years believe you were out here defending her.”
My grandmother smiles. “Well, she’s still not a real doctor. I stand by that one.”
She turns toward the house, and I stare ahead of me, at the handful of stragglers who remain on the dance floor.
My grandmother wasn’t wrong: I have spent my entire life thinking I had to take care of everyone.
I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Easton came home and got dragged into something, but maybe that’s something she should know.
Maybe I treat her like the brilliant adult she is and we come up with a solution we can both live with. If I haven’t already lost her, that is.
I head to the other side of the house, where bass is thumping as the after-party gets underway.
There’s a disco ball and flashing lights and a tequila luge shaped like the Ferris wheel Hawk proposed on.
A food truck has pulled up just outside the tent to serve huge slices of greasy pizza, and a DJ is shouting, “Make some noise!” at the crowd.
I fucking ruined this for Easton. There’s absolutely no way, after what I did, that she is going to come back here and kick off her heels to do shots off the tequila luge like nothing happened.
“Hey.” Hawk slaps a hand on my shoulder. He’s out of his tux and wearing some crazy New Orleans-themed outfit for the after-party. A hundred bucks says Kelsey has one to match. “Have you seen my bride?”
I glance around. “I assumed she was here, actually.”
His tongue prods the inside of his cheek. “She said she was just going up to the bridal suite to change, but your mom was with her and they’ve been gone for a while.”
There’s the tiniest hint of concern in his eyes, a warning that says, It’s not my place to check on your mom, but I’m worried about her.
He’s a good guy. The perfect guy for my sister.
“Let me go check,” I say, my stomach sinking lower than it already was. “It’s probably nothing.”
I head up the stairs to the second floor.
My mom’s been doing well these past few days, but it has to have been exhausting.
I’ve spent most of the night keeping an eye on my mom—I really hope Kelsey hasn’t been saddled with caring for her now.
I arrive at the landing just as my grandmother walks up from the other staircase.
Between us, in the bridal suite, an argument is going on. It’s my mother, using a sharp voice we rarely hear from her. “I told you I’d do it and I will,” she snaps.
“I don’t want it weighing on me through my entire honeymoon,” Kelsey pleads. “Come on, Mom. This is the last time Hawk and I are going to get to ourselves in a very long time and—”
“That’s ridiculous,” my mother says. “You’re not dying, Kelsey. I’ll do it, but not here. There’s too much else going on. And I’m still not sure.”
The door is ajar. I push it open. My grandmother follows.
“You’ll do what?” I ask.
Two alarmed pairs of eyes jerk in my direction.
“Nothing,” they say in unison.
I push a hand through my hair. Jesus, I’m tired. I’m tired of managing everyone and worrying about everyone. I’m tired of giving up the one fucking thing I want. “Just tell me,” I sigh.
“Elijah,” my sister says in a tight voice, “I love you, but I am a twenty-nine-year-old woman having a private conversation with my fifty-nine-year-old mother and this doesn’t concern you.”
My jaw grinds. “Of course it fucking concerns me. If my sick mother has shit she has to do, it concerns me. If your honeymoon is going to be ruined, it concerns me.”
“Just because you’re concerned by something you’ve overheard doesn’t make it your responsibility,” Kelsey counters. “You rush into every situation like it’s a burning building, but no one here needs or is asking for your help.”
My grandmother raises a brow. See? that brow asks.
If whatever is going on right now ends up making my mother sick, it’ll become my responsibility. I’m dying to say it. But Kelsey is also right. My grandmother was right. They probably don’t need me to manage everything, to monitor every conversation, to solve every issue. No, they definitely don’t.
For a dizzying, surreal moment, it’s as if I’m floating away. As if a rope was cut and I’ve been set adrift.
Maybe, though, I’ve just been set free.
“I need to go find Easton,” I whisper, my jaw open, my voice hoarse with panic. “I’ve got to stop her from saying yes to Thomas.”
“Easton?” my mother and Kelsey say at the same time.
My grandmother shakes her head. “How the two of you have missed that he’s crazy about her and has always been crazy about her is absolutely staggering,” she says before turning to me. “Stop wasting time, boy, and go get her.”
And with that I bolt out the door.
I get downstairs. Thank God I parked on the street instead of the driveway to stay out of everyone’s way. I run to my car and freeze. Where the fuck did they say Thomas was staying?
It wasn’t the Ritz. Fuck.
The Georgian.
I plug the hotel name into the GPS and text Easton on the way.
I’m so sorry about before. Can you call when you see this? It’s important.
Traffic inside the French Quarter is insane and as I get closer, I have half a mind to just ditch the car and run. I finally reach the circular pull-in, and jump out, leaving the keys in the ignition.
“Sir,” says a bellman sternly, “you can’t—”
“Keys are in the car,” I shout over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute!”
I won’t be, probably. Let him tow me. Let him keep it, for all I care. I just need to stop her from getting back together with Thomas, if I’m not too late already.
There’s a line of people at the front desk—I cut in front of all of them.
“I’m sorry, but this is an emergency,” I tell the clerk and the hotel guest now glaring at me. “I need to reach one of your guests immediately...there’s been an emergency and she isn’t answering her phone.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” the woman says politely. “We can’t give out room numbers of our guests. But I can ask someone to call up there for you.”
I run a hand through my hair. Having them call up only works if Easton and Thomas are in the room and if Easton answers the phone. What are the odds, when Thomas is bound to be trying to get her undressed or in the middle of a proposal?
I give her a nod. “Fine.”
“Our manager will be with you in a moment,” she says.
Fuck. How fucking long is that going to take, and what do I do if it doesn’t work?
I briefly consider just knocking on every door, but how many goddamn rooms does a hotel this size have? I guess I’ll try it the manager’s way first.
After a full minute, a bored-looking man saunters up, frowning at me with tired eyes. “You need us to contact a guest?” he asks.
I nod. “It’s an emergency.”
“What sort of emergency?”
“This is a private affair,” I reply, imitating my grandmother’s haughtiness. Shockingly, it works.
“What’s the guest’s name?” he asks, opening something up on a computer.
“Thomas Prescott,” I reply. He raises a brow. I imagine fucking Thomas Prescott is about as big a celebrity as this place sees, and he’s instantly suspicious. “I don’t need him,” I clarify, “but he has someone with him. Easton Walsh. Easton’s the one we need to get ahold of.”
After a moment, he dials the number. I can hear it ringing, but no one answers.
He shrugs. “I’m sorry. They’re not picking up.”
Goddammit.
I look around me for any other solution, but I see none.
Hawk said he’d once planned to just sit in a hotel lobby and watch Kelsey walk through in the morning like a creep.
I guess I could do the same. I could wait until morning.
But if they’re not answering the phone at this point, I assume she’s already gotten back together with him.
I walk outside and climb in the car, dejected.
The bellman starts to scold me and I just drive away, too exhausted and demoralized to even tell him to fuck off.
Jesus, the timing of this...was terrible. And now it’s too late.
I get to the neighborhood and drive at a snail’s pace because I’m not ready to go back to the house.
In the distance, I spy something, though. I turn on my brights, trying not to get my hopes up and...
Maybe I’m not too late after all.