Chapter 9
ELI
TRACK: John Prime “I Remember Everything”
“You saw all of that?” Reese says when she reaches me. A strand of her hair has come loose from the tight hairstyle she wears it in here in the restaurant, and she tucks it behind her ear. It falls right back out again, and my fingers twitch with the urge to tuck it back myself.
The pearl-clutching patrons whisper amongst themselves. That anger I’d seen splashed across her face is gone, and now Reese looks nothing short of horrified. Worried. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Hey,” I say. “I couldn’t hear much from over here, but I could tell from the body language and the way he waggled that finger he deserved being made to look like he pissed himself.”
She worries her lower lip, which only makes me stare at them. “No. That was so unprofessional. I have to tell Cass. Actually, you should fire me.”
I force myself to meet her eyes. “What did he say to you?”
I expect her to say something truly heinous, because Reese is a professional.
Cass is always talking about how Reese is one of the resort’s “biggest assets.” I used to think my sister said stuff like that to make me feel bad about what happened between me and Reese.
But I always knew Cassandra wasn’t wrong.
Besides the way Reese had turned the whole restaurant around with her skillful hiring and management, I’d watched her on the floor before.
Where some of the servers looked stressed at the busiest times and zipped around the restaurant with strained faces, Reese took care of problems in a way that made people feel almost happy they’d had them.
They smiled when she left their tables. And when she moved between her tasks, it was with an efficient kind of ease and grace that was so practiced, so confident, she made me think of a dancer.
Or a singer, with a single arm up on stage. Except quiet.
But Reese shakes her head. “It wasn’t really what he said to me.”
It’s only then that I understand she’s not just pissed about what happened. She’s rattled.
I suddenly feel like an ass for clapping. Then my mind darts off like an angry hornet. “Wait, did he do something?” Visions of that prick groping her or making a lewd gesture run through my head, even if it doesn’t make sense—he wasn’t alone.
“No,” Reese says quickly. But before I can prod her further, the restroom door swings open.
My hackles fly up to full mast as the guy emerges, his pants still darkened, though I can tell he’s done his best to dry them off.
I want to go after him. I want to murder the fucking guy. My fist even closes, but I force it open again. Temper, Eli. Fucking temper.
Instead I step in front of Reese. If he so much as looks our way… But the guy’s eyes aren’t on us as he begins to cut stiffly across the restaurant. They’re on the rest of the patrons staring at him, some of them whispering to each other.
And they’re on his table. His eyes narrow when he sees it empty.
Humiliation wafts off him like a bad smell as he practically runs out of L’Aubergine into the lobby, then turns the corner fast out Rolling Hills’ front door into the blustery October morning.
The tension immediately slips from my shoulders when he’s gone.
“Okay,” I say. “All good. Asshole out.”
But when I turn, I see Reese doesn’t look relieved. Her eyes are wet.
My stomach bucks. I don’t think when I see her tears; I take her by the hand and tug her through the open door into the kitchen.
A couple of staff avert their eyes as we pass. Clearly, they saw the show.
I ignore them, bringing Reese right in next to me. Her eyes flicker to her staff and I can feel her straightening, but she also doesn’t pull away from me.
“Come on,” I say as I guide Reese toward the back. “Ignore them.”
Mom always said I felt the most, in our family. You wear everyone’s feelings like your own, Eli.
The only one who meets my eyes when I pass is Rufus, who looks as pissed as I feel, seeing Reese so small. He gives me a brief nod.
Then we’re through the door.
We’re still holding hands, and as much as I want to sweep her into my arms, I know better.
I let her go when she pulls away, looking at the photo on the wall next to her dog of a happy family.
It’s her sister, I realize, with her husband Will, an old buddy of mine from Jewel Lakes, and their four girls.
Reese and I met the same day her sister met Will. We’d been at the park that day, me and Will, and he recognized Michelle as an old friend of his brother’s.
Now look at them—in love. Happy as hell.
I’m ashamed of the brief wash of envy I feel just glancing at that photo. What they have—it’s all I ever wanted. And maybe the dog, too.
I look away, refocusing on Reese.
“I shouldn’t have done that with the drink.” Reese grimaces, running her hand up over her hair, smoothing it back before dropping her hand again. “I’m going to have to go talk to Cass before the guy complains. He’s definitely going to complain. So stupid. I let my temper get the best of me.”
“Trust me. I know what that’s like.” I was always the kid in our family who’d blow up when I saw a minor injustice. Nothing noble I don’t think, more like, someone’s cup of Kool-Aid was a millimeter fuller than the rest of us.
She smiles, but it doesn’t hold. She’s too miserable. “You ever dump a drink on a patron’s lap?”
I shrug. “I don’t work in a restaurant with easy access to mimosas.”
This time, the little laugh she lets out sounds genuine. Then she meets my eye. “When’s the last time you let your temper get the best of you, Eli?”
“This morning, when I burned my tongue on my coffee.”
Reese’s smile lingers a moment, then fades.
“Okay, the last time was at tween batting practice.”
Reese furrows her brow. “At what?”
“The coaching thing Kelly was talking about,” I explain.
“When it’s not little league season I volunteer down at the…
never mind, it’s not important. A few weeks ago there was this dad—he stood right outside the cage while his kid was trying to hit balls, picking apart every little thing Alvin was doing.
So I told him there were no parents allowed next to the cages on Saturdays.
Before he went off to ‘have a word’ with the community center staff I asked him to catch a bag of bats. ”
Reese’s lips twist with a smile.
“It may have been heavier than it looked. There were a few sandbags in there. And I may have given him a bit of the family arm. The one Jude got rich on. Anyway, he turned a terrific shade of purple while he tried to catch his breath again.”
“I would have liked to see that,” she says.
But Reese’s eyes dart back to the table the couple was sitting at.
Her gaze seems to lose focus. “That guy…he has everything. He’s in a beautiful restaurant in a gorgeous resort, with a kind and patient woman.
On holiday, probably. Someone who puts up with his bullshit.
But nothing’s good enough for guys like that.
He just sat there, not even caring who heard, while he laid all his fucking insecurities on her. ”
She looks down, trying to hide an expression that clearly walks the line between anger and pain.
“She was trying her best to exist; hell, maybe she was thriving. And he couldn’t take it. It’s impossible not to internalize that.”
I don’t think she’s talking about the couple in the restaurant anymore.
I don’t know much about Reese’s history—we hadn’t exactly been together long enough to get into that stuff—but I know she was in a long-term relationship before me.
It was the whole reason both of us thought we could date casually—neither of us was looking for anything.
She was looking for fun, and I was looking to numb the pain.
Both of us failed.
All I want to do is go to her, to brush that strand of hair back and tell her that her ex was a fucking asshole for hurting her.
The urge is so strong I have to bite my cheek to remind myself to keep my distance.
Because I’m self-aware enough to know I’m an ex who hurt her too.
I fold my arms across my chest, forcing myself to give her space.
Feeling like a shit even though I know this doesn’t have anything to do with me.
“You stood up for her,” I say. “You did the right thing, Reese. I’ll tell Cass that myself.”
“I should have done more,” Reese whispers, her hand fluttering to her neck, up to that errant strand of hair.
“I should have taken her away. I should have told him he doesn’t have to have power over her—” Her voice cracks and a tear falls down her cheek then.
She sucks in a breath, reaching up to brush it away. “He’ll break her.”
Take a breath, Eli. My dad’s voice echoes through my brain. It’s not your pain.
Fuck that.
I take a step toward her. “You’re not broken, Reese.”
She looks up as if found out. Another tear falls, tracing a trail down her freckled skin.
It was him, I realize. Whoever this dick ex was. He made her stop singing. I’m suddenly sure of it.
I see the anger; I feel it. But I tuck it away. Reese doesn’t need that. She needs someone to show her she’s not alone. That she’s whole and perfect, just as much as she thinks she isn’t.
I tell myself to back off, but her shoulders begin to shake, and I say it again.
Fuck that.
Then I pull Reese Franco into my arms.
For a moment, my stomach clenches with an old pain; a familiar twang trying to pull me back, warning me I’m not supposed to be doing this. That I’m worse at holding myself back from falling than I am at stopping myself from exploding.
But she fits against me like she belongs there, like her edges match their counterparts in mine.
I catch the soft shudders of her tears. Feel the dampness of them at the collar of my shirt.