Chapter 6
REESE
TRACK: Gerry Rafferty, “Right Down the Line”
Eli’s not wearing a coat, even though the October air is brisk.
He’s in a dark navy suit jacket that fits his broad shoulders impeccably.
The pale blue shirt he wears under it is unbuttoned at the top and is tucked into slim jeans that encase his long legs.
His thick, dark hair flops adorably onto his forehead as he thumbs something into the screen.
What have I done? What the hell have I done? Eli’s the man I dread seeing. The man I barely acknowledge when we do see each other. The one who either sends my stomach plummeting each time I do see him or fills me with hot rage.
“You can let him go,” I tell Nora. “Unfortunately, Rufus loves him.”
Eli looks up as Rufus bounds toward him.
“Hey, buddy!” Eli exclaims, getting down and catching my dog with open arms. He laughs as Rufus laps at his face, then vigorously scratches my completely disloyal dog behind the ears.
He looks up at the sound of my boots on the pavement, and when he does, he quickly stands. “Hey,” he says to me, standing up straight. “You look…”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Nora knows. No pretend date words necessary.”
Eli’s gaze darts to Nora.
“I’m the only one she’s told,” Nora says, being nicer than I am.
I bend down to scratch Rufus’s traitorous yet still adorable ears.
“You can’t tell Jude,” Eli says to her. “My brother has the loosest lips on this side of the valley.”
Jude and Eli don’t always get along, I know, so the comment could come across as unkind. But Eli looks genuinely concerned. Plus, we all know he’s not wrong. Jude can be a little oblivious.
Nora nods. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
I hand her Rufus’s leash. “Give him lots of snuggles for me,” I say.
“Me too,” Eli says.
I throw him a look, but Nora only grins. “You got it.”
Once she’s around the corner, Eli launches right into it. “Listen, Reese, I wanted to let you know…if you want out, I understand. Do you?”
For a moment, I say nothing. I just let him squirm.
I should say yes. I should tell him sorry, then run down the block and catch up with Nora.
But then I think about going back upstairs with my hair and makeup done, in this dress, putting on my sad music playlist and going to sleep with that notebook staring at me.
I also think of how Eli looked when Kelly was there, ripping his poor damn heart out. And I ignore all the smart voices in my head and say, “You sure you want to give me an out?”
Eli lifts a brow, then grins.
Tingles explode in my stomach. Dammit, I forgot how panty-melting that grin is. Cassandra told me once that he thought he could get out of anything when he flashed someone that grin. Then we both admitted it seemed to work for him, a lot.
Eli opens the passenger door for me. “Nope.”
When I get in the warm cab of his truck, I almost change my mind again.
It’s been two years since I’ve been in this truck, yet everything is painfully familiar.
The feel of the leather seats; the distinct scent of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror; the trace of Eli’s subtle, spiced cologne.
The sound of Joni Mitchell coming through the speakers.
It’s not the same song as I was playing upstairs. It’s “California.” I lean back in my seat after fastening my seat belt, closing my eyes. I’d laugh if this was funny.
Eli’s weight tips the whole cab when he gets in. He’s not as big as his other brother Griffin, but he’s not lithe like Jude, either. He’s the perfect in-between.
Stop it.
“I didn’t know you were into old folk music, Eli,” I say, as much to distract myself as out of curiosity.
“I wasn’t. Someone introduced me to it a couple years ago though.”
Damn. I’m touched I got him into Joni. But then I’m reminded of what happened after we used to play music together. I used to let myself sing and get carried away, and Eli would always look at me with a kind of wonder when I stopped.
Don’t stop, Reese. You have the voice of an angel.
My stomach roils. That’s why it hurt so much when Eli ended things. Because I never saw it coming. He was the sweetness I never saw coming.
“Eli,” I say now, “we need to get one thing straight, okay? We’re not actually dating. When we did date, it was a disaster. So no bringing that up, okay?”
Eli puts the truck in gear. “I didn’t think it was a disaster.”
I gape as he pulls onto the road.
Eli throws me a glance. “Look, it didn’t end great. I take full responsibility for that. But I don’t regret it. I know you do, but I don’t.”
I fold my arms, that old irritation flicking up my throat. Or is that a lump? He doesn’t know how badly he hurt me. He has no idea.
But I can feel his eyes on me. I can see, from the corner of my eye, the way his hand scrapes over his jaw. “Reese, I’m sorry. You’re right, I won’t bring it up again, okay? And I told you I fully intend to make this worth your while. It’s not a one-sided favor.”
“Got it,” I say. But I keep my face turned to the window, watching as we leave my neighborhood on the edge of downtown and approach the shops along the waterfront.
We don’t speak again until a few minutes later when Eli parks outside Viande et Patates. I offer him some quarters as he plugs the meter, but he just raises an eyebrow like I’m crazy.
Then we walk side by side toward the restaurant.
My hand—the one next to his—twitches. I don’t know why; it’s not like we should be holding hands, should we? They can’t see us yet.
But when we stop outside the front door, my stomach does another flip.
When Eli picked me up, that wasn’t my last chance to run. This is. Right outside the restaurant.
But I don’t run. I pause on the sidewalk looking at our reflection in the plate glass window of the closed boutique next door.
We look, for all intents and purposes, like a handsome couple. We fit, somehow.
“You okay?” Eli asks.
I almost laugh. No, I’m not okay. I’m crazy for going through with this. My heart fucking hurts.
But I’m also crazy for what I do next. I reach for his hand, blinking fast at the little spark that shoots up my arm as I slip my hand into his rough, warm palm. “We’re supposed to be together, remember?” My voice is almost raspy.
Eli seems frozen for a moment. Then he grips my hand back, hard. His eyes are a gorgeous deep chocolate brown—a perfect match to his thick locks—and they twinkle as he squeezes my palm.
Oh God, it feels good, him holding my hand like this. Bestowing that smile on me. Then his smile drops, and he looks over toward the waterfront walkway. “Aren’t you happy, Reese?”
The question is like a brick dropped on the sidewalk.
I swallow. “I’m fine.”
He looks back at me with something like concern in his expression, and I don’t love it.
In fact, I hate it. I want him to look away from me.
But I know he won’t lose that frown unless I show him I’m okay.
“Don’t go all deep on me,” I say, forcing a smile.
“We’re here to show Kelly that you’re happy.
So, let’s pretend we’re copasetic. Ready? ”
Eli’s still frowning, but he glances toward the restaurant door and nods. “Okay.”
Neil stands up when we walk in the door. “Eli and Reese,” he booms, insisting on kissing both of our cheeks, European style.
“Handsome as ever, Eli. How’d you ever walk away from this beast of a man?” Neil asks Kelly, without a whiff of self-awareness. He laughs heartily as Eli and Kelly look awkwardly at each other.
“Let me,” Neil says, coming behind me to remove my coat and handing it to the hostess who’s appeared behind us, giving her a wink.
“Stunning,” he says once he turns to me. Clearly, Neil has a bit of a wandering eye. It makes me slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. He lavishes everyone with the same level of attention.
It’s not me who’s stunning, anyway. It’s Kelly, in a silky black blouse and red lipstick, her hair in long waves that cascade down her shoulders.
She’s looking at Neil with a flicker of annoyance, but she still makes me feel positively mousy next to her.
All my confidence back at home with Nora seems to flitter away.
That is until Eli takes my hand and gives me a squeeze. Even if it’s for his own reassurance around Kelly, I cling to him for a second longer than necessary before letting go.
“Eli!” A man has appeared at the side of our table, around Eli’s age, who looks like a biker in a suit with his big beard and tattoo escaping the collar of his neat white button-down.
“Ben,” Eli beams, giving the man a thudding back pat hug the way dudes sometimes do. “Everyone, this is Ben—this is his restaurant.”
“Good show!” Neil exclaims.
“No, you’ve got the good show, sir,” Ben says, clearly recognizing Neil.
Ben acts nothing like his tough exterior.
He’s easy-going, polite as he shakes Neil and then Kelly’s hand and tells them he’s a big fan.
But he’s not too star-struck to look between me and Eli as he turns his attention our way, giving me a kind of insider smile. “Eli’s been keeping secrets,” he says.
Kelly’s eyebrow goes up, sending nerves spiking across my stomach. Hopefully she doesn’t read anything into that.
“You have a great menu,” I say. It’s a weird thing to say for non-industry people, but Ben beams and I’m relieved as we easily slip into shop talk.
I’ve been here before—it’s part of my job to know all the good restaurants in town—but I didn’t know the owner was a good friend of Eli’s.
Before tonight I probably would have avoided it for that reason.
But I feel everyone’s eyes on me, and I remember I’m supposed to be putting on a show. I look over at Eli and smile awkwardly.
He’s been watching me and Ben the whole time, looking more relaxed now. When my eyes meet his, he grins.
I hate the sparks that fly through me at that smile.
And I hate the way my eyes catch on that little swirl of hair that falls behind his ear, right at my eye level.
It brushes against the skin of his somehow sexy neck as he turns to say something to Neil.
I can’t stop staring at his neck, breathing in the spicy scent of his aftershave.
I swallow, looking back at the table.
“Fantastic place,” Neil says as he settles back down in his seat. “Tell us, what’s good?”
Eli takes my hand as we sit, too, giving it a squeeze. I know it’s reassurance, a so far, so good. But it still feels too real.
Then he casually lowers both our hands, resting them on his knee under the table.
I pull my hand away. It’s not real.
When I look up, Kelly’s eyes are on me.
Did she see the way I jerked my hand away? I reach for my water, though it’s too late for that to be the reason. It’s normal for a couple not to hold hands every moment.
“Do you two like Pinot Noir?” Neil asks after Ben leaves. “I took the liberty of telling your friend to get the server to bring us a bottle of Mont Place.”
Luckily, Neil’s choice of wine is sufficiently distracting. “Seriously?”
Neil smiles a little mischievously. “You know it?”
“Of course she knows it,” Kelly says. “She probably pours it for her customers at L’Aubergine.”
Was that a jab because I’m in the service industry? I can’t seem to tell with Kelly. Her big, thickly lashed eyes are on me, and she gives me a quick smile which might almost be kind.
I can’t read her at all.
“Yes, I know it. It’s favored by our VIPs.”
Neil laughs heartily. “Perfect.”
Our server returns with the bottle, and offers to pour a taste for Neil, but he waves her away, taking the bottle himself and pouring hearty glasses for us all. He’s as careless as if the thousand-dollar bottle were Two-Buck Chuck.
“You don’t need to show off for them, Neil,” Kelly says. “Eli doesn’t know a thing about wine.”
“Actually, he knows a surprising amount,” I say, picking up my glass and smiling at Kelly. It’s an uncoded smile, and it works. She seems surprised enough by my reaction that she averts her gaze.
It’s a trick I picked up early in my serving days which I use to disarm women who seem like they’re going to be anything but kind.
Eli takes a sip. “Reese taught me everything I know about wine.”
Kelly raises a brow. “I thought your preferred way to drink wine was by the box.”
My smile slips as I see the effect her words have on Eli. Like a little bite.
I set my glass down hard enough that it clinks on the glossy wood tabletop.
“The first thing I taught Eli was the best wine is whichever one you like. It doesn’t matter if it’s old world or new, inexpensive or costly.
Because what’s the point of spending time with something—or someone—you don’t like? ”
It takes all my willpower not to look at Kelly when I say it.
“Hear! Hear!” Neil says, insisting we clink glasses.
Kelly, either chagrinned or chastised, calms down after that.
She even smiles when, loosened up by the wine, I tell a story about how Eli got bitten by a NYPD horse in Central Park.
It was a true story, from when we were together back then and took a weekend trip to New York City.
Eli makes a show of acting embarrassed, but I know he loves telling that story, because he got a letter of apology from the department a week later signed Captain Hay, and he nearly killed himself with how funny that was.
“I love it when you tell that tale,” he says to me, and I have to bite my cheek.
“Oh my God, that was awful,” I say, bending my head down as I try not to laugh.
“But it’s always better when you tell it,” he continues. “Because you always neeeigh-l it.”
Now we’re both laughing—at least until we realize we’re the only ones. Neil and Kelly are both staring at us, Neil with a bemused expression, like we’re circus animals, and Kelly in a way that looks pointedly uncomfortable.
We move on to chatting about New York City and their apartment there.
When I look over at Eli a few minutes later, he raises a brow. His lips curl in a little smile, and I know he’s thinking about what I said earlier. I told him we shouldn’t bring up what we used to be, then I went and told that story.
But maybe he’s right, just a little bit. Maybe there were a few good times.