Chapter 18 #2
I sighed. I knew exactly how insane it sounded. It’s why I usually kept my mouth shut about it. It was weird. Sweet, comforting, familiar—but weird when you said it out loud.
“It is weird, isn’t it?” I muttered.
Chelsea pursed her lips and gave me a gentle nod. “Just a little.”
That was when Hope sat up straighter, her eyes suddenly gleaming with something too close to smug. “Well. If you two aren’t together, maybe you should put me on.”
Esther’s head snapped in her direction so fast I heard her earrings jingle. “Girl, did you not just hear her say they cuddle when they sleep together?”
I glared at her.
“Sleep in the same bed,” I corrected. “‘Sleep together’ sounds wrong.”
Hope waved a hand dismissively. “So? If Ellie hasn’t made a move yet, she isn’t going to. She’s probably still hung up on that situation with her sister and her ex.”
The room shifted. The air grew heavier.
London’s voice cut through, sharp. “Hope, seriously?”
Esther looked like she was two seconds away from lunging. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Hope rolled her eyes. “What? It’s the truth. She’s not ready to move on, and Elliot is too fine to sit around waiting. You don’t mind, do you, Ellie?”
I should’ve laughed it off. Should’ve told her to go for it, that Elliot wasn’t mine. That he could do what he wanted. But the image of her with him—her in his space, her in his bed—made my stomach twist tight.
“You’re too shallow for El,” I said, the words low and sharper than I meant.
“Oop,” Esther whispered.
Hope blinked. “Huh?”
I sat forward, my voice steadier now. “You’re not gonna take care of him properly. You’re not gonna wake up in the middle of the night if his sugar crashes. You won’t keep an eye on what he eats or remind him when he forgets to eat altogether.”
Hope scoffed. “He’s a grown-ass man, Ellie. I don’t need to do any of that.”
London turned toward me slowly. “Wait… do you do that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Because I care.”
Hope huffed. “Whatever. If you do it already, why should I?”
Esther just stared at her. “You really are crazy.”
Hope rolled her eyes. “Look, it’s really not that deep. He’s sexy. He’s single. You said yourself there’s nothing going on, so what’s the issue?”
I didn’t answer right away. Because the issue wasn’t her. It wasn’t even El.
It was me.
It was this slow-building thing I’d let happen.
This blurry line I’d kept pretending didn’t exist between us.
The sleepovers, the way he looked at me sometimes, the way I caught myself looking back.
It was comfortable and sweet and soft—but never clear.
Never defined. I’d left the door open just enough to feel him near, but not enough to let him in.
And now someone else was trying to walk through it.
Hope watched me. Her gloss shimmered obnoxiously under the lights as she pouted her lips. “So… are you gonna help me or not?”
Esther muttered something under her breath that sounded like “Girl, you’re bold as hell,” but Hope didn’t flinch.
I looked down at my phone. The screen was still open to the last meme El had sent—a dumb cartoon cat falling off a chair with the caption “me trying to flirt.” My chest tightened.
I let out a breath, quiet but shaky. Then I looked up, voice calm.
“Fine.”
Hope blinked. “Fine?”
The rest of the staff gasped, too. “Fine?”
I nodded, even though it felt like swallowing something jagged. “I’ll talk to him.”
Her face lit up like she’d just won a prize. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Thank you, Ellie!” Hope beamed.
The room broke out in murmurs, and even though everyone else in the room was still talking, I couldn’t hear a thing. Because the buzzing in my chest drowned it all out.
And I hated how empty the silence felt.
I glanced at the clock. 8:43 a.m.
I exhaled, refocusing the conversation. “My client’s running late.”
Hope perked up again. “Really? You should give me a blowout. I have a photoshoot at noon.”
Esther scoffed. “Are you crazy? Her client could walk in at any minute.”
Hope waved her off. “It wouldn’t take long. I don’t need a wash, just a quick blowout. It’s fine, right, Ellie?”
I hesitated, glancing at the clock again. If my client showed up while I was still doing Hope’s hair, my whole schedule would get thrown off. That would push my next appointment back, and I’d be scrambling the rest of the day, which might make me late to meet with El.
I needed the organization. But, like an idiot, I agreed. “Yes, it’s fine.”
Halfway through Hope’s hair, the salon door swung open, and my client stepped in. My stomach dropped.
“I’m so sorry about this,” I said quickly, moving toward her. “It’ll only take a moment.”
She waved me off with a kind smile. “No, it’s totally fine. I woke up late, so of course you took someone else.”
Relief washed over me. “I’m almost done. Chelsea will get you washed up in the meantime. I won’t charge you for the wash—I’m really sorry again.”
Chelsea shot me a look that said you owe me, but nodded and led the client toward the back.
I rushed through the last few sections of Hope’s hair, smoothing the strands down with my hands and barely fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
She turned to the mirror, fluffing the ends with her nails. “This looks a little flat, but I guess it’ll work for the photoshoot. Thanks, Ellie.”
“Uh-huh,” I muttered, biting down my annoyance.
“Don’t forget to talk to El for me,” she said, grabbing her bag. And just like that, she walked out.
Without paying.
Esther folded her arms, watching the door swing shut behind her. “The heifer could’ve at least tipped.”
I sighed and rubbed at my temples, a slow throb building between my eyes. “Stop.”
But she wasn’t wrong.
I waited until Chelsea returned and gave me a discreet nod to let me know my client was settled, then quietly slipped past them all and ducked into the break room.
The second the door shut behind me, I let out a deep breath, opened my purse, and grabbed my flask. I’d been off it all month, barely needing a sip. I cracked it open, took a long sip, and leaned back against the counter.
One sip turned into three.
Then I just stood there for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence stretch.
Maybe I needed more than a drink. Maybe I needed space from all of it.
?
“How was the meeting with the editor?”
El let out a long sigh, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a sip. “Unnecessarily long. People underestimate the power of sending an email. Saves everyone time and money.”
I speared a piece of pasta, twirling it on my fork. “It might be better to connect in person. Discussions flow easier that way.”
El scoffed. “Yeah, well, not when I’m on a time crunch. Submissions are a month away, and I haven’t even started outlining yet.”
He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “This might be one of our last nights out for a while, Peanut. I need to start pulling all-nighters.”
I nodded. “I get it. I need to focus on the hair show anyway.”
I pushed my pasta around my plate some more, debating my next words. The thought had been circling my mind all day, and if I didn’t say it now, I never would.
“Speaking of…” I hesitated. “Maybe we should start spending less time together. Like… sleeping in our own beds.”
El raised his glass to his lips, smirking over the rim. “I sleep in my bed just fine.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
He leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Why are you so obsessed with this? It works for us, Ellie. It’s not hurting anyone.”
“It could.” I swallowed. “It’s just cuddling now, but what if we become dependent? I’m not ready to date yet, but I’m sure you are. What if you meet someone and want to bring them home? Where would that leave me?”
El set his glass down and exhaled. “Slow down, Elliot. I’m not looking to bring anyone home anytime soon. Okay?”
I glanced over at the jazz band playing on stage, my fingers tightening around my fork. “Still.”
The words sat heavy between us. I wasn’t an idiot.
I knew El had feelings for me; the man made no effort to hide that.
But something settled in me today when Hope asked me to hook her up with him.
Though I originally said yes, the thought of him and her was not an image I could swallow.
The thought of him with any woman gave me pause.
I didn’t like that.
“I don’t want this to be a thing,” I murmured, eyes on the edge of my plate. My voice didn’t come out as confident as I’d planned. “Let’s just… take a step back.”
El didn’t say anything right away. He just looked at me, his thumb grazing the side of his fork, his expression unreadable but not cold. Finally, he gave a small nod.
“Okay, Peanut,” he said, voice quiet but steady. “If it bothers you that much, we’ll stop.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. The pressure in my chest loosened, but the relief didn’t feel like relief. It felt hollow. Like I’d traded one ache for another—less sharp, maybe, but deeper.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded again, pushing a bit of food around on his plate.
“I’ll drop you home tonight.”
Tonight.
That one word hit differently. So soon?
I stared down at my plate. My appetite vanished. “Oh. Um… okay.”
We both went quiet again, the clumsy clinking of silverware the only sound. I couldn’t take it anymore.
“I’m meeting with my mom tomorrow,” I said suddenly, not really sure why I blurted it out.
El looked up, his brows rising just slightly. “Yeah? Are you excited?”
I gave a humorless smile. “Not like I should be.”
He tilted his head. “You never talk about her.”
“And for good reason,” I sighed.
He didn’t push. Just waited. That’s what I liked about El. He never pried—just gave you space to talk if you wanted to. I appreciated it, even when I hated what I had to say.
“We… as in my sister and I,” I started, pausing to collect my thoughts, “We had a falling out. A bad one. Years ago.”