Chapter 11 Passion.
Passion.
The weekend came faster than I expected.
Saturday evening, I stood outside an industrial-looking building downtown, the faded sign above the door reading Studio Collective.
It was a far cry from the sleek salon where I spent most of my time, but there was something about the peeling paint, the muffled bass of music inside, and the low hum of conversation spilling from the entrance that felt oddly comforting.
I adjusted my shirt, tugging at the hem as I debated whether I should just turn around and leave.
Was it smart to attend a meeting with a man who had made it painfully clear he wanted me?
No. Absolutely not.
And yet, here I was, standing on the cracked pavement, staring at the door like it might hold some kind of answer.
I wasn’t even sure why I had agreed to this. A room full of strangers? No, thanks.
But Elliot—the other Elliot—had texted me earlier with an enthusiastic, “Can’t wait to see you there!” and against my better judgment, I had shown up. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was boredom. Or maybe it was the fact that a small part of me wanted to see where this led.
There was so much to consider with El. The biggest thing being our twelve-year age gap. Then there was the fact that he had been married. Had being the keyword. But why did they divorce?
Was he difficult? Controlling? Crazy?
The way he carried himself—so intense, so aware of everything—made me wonder if he’d been the problem or if someone had done a number on him. We didn’t get to talk about her much, and when we did, it was brief.
My phone buzzed in my hand, pulling me out of my thoughts. I glanced down at the screen. Ma. I sighed before opening the text.
Ma: Just booked my flight! I’ll be there in two months!
I blinked.
Me: What?
Ma: I know you’re busy, but I want to see you. It’s been too long. We’ll have a nice visit, just us girls. You can even take me to that fancy salon of yours.
My stomach twisted. It had been too long, but that wasn’t by accident. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her coming yet.
Me: Ma, you should’ve asked me first instead of springing this on me.
Ma: Elliot. I’m your mother. I don’t need permission to see my own damn child.
Me: I’m not saying you need permission, Ma. Of course, I’d love to have you, but a heads-up would’ve been nice. I have things to consider. I have a roommate. I have clients.
Ma: Well. You got two months to figure it out.
I sighed in defeat. I hesitated, then added:
Me: Okay. Let me know the details. Looking forward to it.
The ending was a lie, but a small one. A much-needed one, as the woman had an unnatural ability to make a difficult day worse. That being said, I was thankful for the foresight I had to top up my flask before leaving the house. With a quick swig, I’d be right as rain.
Maybe two.
Shoving it back into my coat pocket, I took a breath and pushed open the door. The moment I stepped inside, the scent of paint, coffee, and something vaguely metallic hit me. The space was alive with movement as people clustered in corners, canvases propped against walls, voices overlapping.
I barely had a chance to take it all in before I spotted other Elliot weaving through the crowd toward me. His face lit up the moment he saw me.
“You made it! I was starting to think you’d leave me hanging.”
I gave a small smirk, shrugging off my coat and laying it across my forearm. “I thought about it. But I was actually interested in this event.”
His eyes locked onto mine, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Well, thank you for taking the time to come out. I appreciate it.”
Those damn ocean eyes.
I nodded and looked away, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Yeah. No problem.”
He gestured toward the open space behind him. “Want me to show you around?”
“Sure.”
We wandered through the gallery, weaving between the displays. Distant conversations and the occasional click of heels on the polished floor filled the air, but between us, there was only quiet. He walked a few steps behind, letting me take everything in at my own pace.
The silence was comfortable, but eventually, he spoke.
“So, how’s your day been so far?”
I exhaled slowly, my shoulders sagging just a little. “Stressful.”
“Wanna talk about it?” His voice was warm and inviting, but to me, it felt like a trap.
“Rather not. Personal issues.”
“Oh. I see.”
A pause. Was that too harsh? I was not good at managing the emotions of new people. My tone wasn’t exactly pleasant, either. Add to that the tension from Ma’s text, and I was a ticking time bomb.
I glanced at him. “Sorry. I just—I got a lot on my mind.”
“No, no. I get it,” he said, his voice easy. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his expression unreadable but patient.
I shifted the focus. “What about you? How’s your day going?”
He tilted his head, considering. “Very busy. But at least now I get to spend time with you.”
I hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but the small smile tugging at his lips told me he caught the amusement in my voice.
He studied me for a moment before speaking again. “I like your hair, by the way. It looks amazing.”
I glanced at him, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Thank you.”
“And that dress.” His gaze flickered downward, taking in my body slowly and appreciatively. “God. Forgive me if I stare.”
I arched an eyebrow and my lips twitching. The man definitely wasn’t shy about his interest.
“Are you usually this flirty?”
He smirked. “Not always. I just can’t believe I’m this attracted to a woman who has the same name as me. How egotistical.”
A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Well, I’m flattered. But like I said before, I’m not interested in dating.”
His expression remained neutral, but a smile was hidden in those eyes. “I remember, Ellie.”
The way he said my name… heat crawled up my chest. “Good. Glad we’re on the same page, then.”
“Yeah,” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe we should change the topic.”
“Good idea.” I exhaled right along with him. It was only then that I realized how close we were to each other. We held each other’s eyes for a brief moment before we both looked elsewhere. Surprisingly, he was the one to move away first before asking:
“So, what made you wanna open a salon?”
I shrugged, running my fingers along the strap of my purse. “It just seemed like the next step after finishing beauty school. My friend knew someone with a building, and my dad left me some money in his will, so… it all worked out that way.”
His expression softened. “Do you love it?”
I met his gaze. “Wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t.”
He nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. “How long has it been open?”
“About a year.”
“Amazing.”
I glanced at him. “What about you? How long have you been drawing?”
“Since I was eight. But I started professionally at twenty with an internship.”
I tilted my head. “Do you love it?”
A slow smile curved his lips, something almost intimate about the way his gaze lingered on me. “I love it very much, Elliot.”
The way he said my name sent a warm pulse through my stomach. I cleared my throat, looking away.
“Oh. Well. That’s good.”
Before I could think too much about it, he exhaled sharply, his steps slowing beside me.
“Mind if we sit for a bit? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”
My stomach tightened with concern. “Sure, I don’t mind.”
I followed as he led me to a quieter corner, away from the displays. He lowered himself onto a bench, rubbing his forehead, his jaw clenched. The change in his demeanor unsettled me.
“Are you okay?” I asked, studying his face, looking for signs of pain.
He took a slow breath, nodding, but I wasn’t convinced.
“Yeah, just waiting for the insulin to kick in.”
My stomach twisted. “Insulin? You’re diabetic?”
He nodded again. “Type two.”
My heart sank. A familiar feeling sprung up in me.
Fear?
What was there to be scared about? I studied him, taking in the subtle pallor of his skin and the way he blinked a little slower than usual, like he was forcing himself to stay steady.
I hesitated at the sight. “Is it… manageable?”
His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile.
“Well, I recently became insulin-dependent, which means my pancreas is fucked and I don’t produce enough insulin on my own anymore. ”
Something in his voice was too casual, and I couldn’t tell if it was nonabrasive or if he was just making it seem that way.
“Is that bad?”
He shrugged. “It’s mostly because of my age. Nothing I could do to stop it. Most of the time, I keep my diet in check, stay active, and take my meds. But sometimes, my blood sugar still dips.”
I frowned, watching as he flexed his fingers, then rested his forearms on his knees, exhaling slowly. “Do you need anything? Water? Something to eat?”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’ve got glucose tabs if it gets worse. Should be fine in a few minutes.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I stared at him as he tried to steady himself.
Why?
The word repeated in my head so frequently I wanted to scream.
Why was this happening? Why did I meet him? Why was the universe hellbent on sending me people I’d spend hours worrying about?
It just didn’t seem fair.
“You should’ve said something sooner,” I said finally.
He nodded in agreement. “I know.”
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
“So why didn’t you?” The harsh tone from earlier returned, but this time, I didn’t care.
He didn’t react to it. Instead, he looked at me and calmly said, “I don’t really have an excuse, Ellie. I’m sorry.”
Fuck.
The tension in my shoulders lessened as my face softened. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t be upset.”
“No, no. I understand your frustration. I would be upset, too.”
I studied his face, looking for any signs of pain. “But you’re okay, right? And you’re taking this seriously?”
His brows furrowed slightly as if the question caught him off guard.
“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
I sighed. “You’d be surprised how carelessly some people treat their medical conditions.”