Chapter 27
ELI
TRACK: Leonard Cohen, “Famous Blue Raincoat”
Overnight, Reese has become the center of everyone’s attention at the hotel.
The constant questions and emails from people—only a fraction of what Reese is going through—are making it extremely difficult to concentrate on work.
It also happens to be the penultimate week of filming for Chef’s Apprentice.
Only four of the twelve contestants remain, including Augusta and Crying Marcel.
Thankfully, Neil seems to be on his best behavior, though that old exuberance has been replaced by shadows under his eyes and jokes that don’t quite land.
Still, once the cameras are on, he works them well. And Kelly has returned to set, though by Reese’s account, she’s keeping a low profile.
The season premiere is already being advertised on TV, and the news networks are starting to tie Reese’s video with clips from the show.
I have an email in my inbox I haven’t figured out how to respond to from Kelly’s bosses in New York, telling us they want to have Reese perform for the finale next week.
When I told Reese yesterday, she went a shade of pale I’d never seen on her before, and I could tell this was all too much, too fast.
She showed me the thousands of messages she’s been getting in her inbox and asked if I’d help screen them with her.
Most of them are people gushing about the video or asking for leads or money for their sick relatives and pet surgeries.
A good portion of them are trolls. But there are some deeply legitimate inquiries coming in too.
Like from music agents and record executives, talking about invitations to New York and LA.
It occurs to me that maybe I should be worried. Or jealous. A normal person would be. But I can’t be. I can’t keep all of her for myself, as much as I want to. She has a gift, and I need as much as she does for the whole world to see her the way I do.
We stay at her place mostly, Reese stroking Rufus’s ears while we talk about some of the emails.
“So many strangers,” she says. “And so many jerks.”
“So many jerks,” I agree.
The things some people think they have a right to say to her make my skin crawl, if I’m being honest. And even though we spend several hours blocking and deleting, by the end of each night, I still want to squash something and she’s still wandering around dazed.
“What do I do now?” she asks, three nights after the video went live. I just came back from a run with Rufus, which has been helping to alleviate some of my squashing urges.
She’s sitting curled up on the couch in her living room.
I flop down beside her, still breathing hard. “What do you want to do? Quit your job? Go on tour?”
She laughs but shakes her head. “No.” Reese holds my hand, cups it against her cheek.
“Careful, I’m sweaty.”
“I don’t care. I just need to remind myself you’re here. That I’m not doing all this alone.”
I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Never, Reese.” She’ll never have to be alone again, if I can help it. “You don’t need to decide anything right this minute. You’ve got two weeks to get through—if you want to go back to work, that is.”
Reese tightens her grip on my hand, leaning into it. “I do. Work’s the only thing keeping my feet on the ground right now. And I want to help get my staff through the end of the show. I’ll decide after that.”
Our eyes meet, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. That’s when we’re supposed to decide what we’re doing with us. I’ve wanted to tell her nearly a thousand times that this is real for me. That I don’t want it to end. But I know she needs her space too.
And I know I need to practice giving it to her if I want to do things better.
Still, my stomach does a little dive. Reese could be a star.
She’s already going to be a star if she follows through on any of the messages people are sending.
I could give her everything I have, and she could easily walk away from me if she wanted to.
I wouldn’t even blame her.
But Reese smiles, then she presses her lips to mine, and I let myself hope, just a little, that this could work for us, no matter how much things change.
So long as I don’t fuck things up.
But things at work are different than at home, and I decide there’s no point in waiting the few days left until filming wraps to talk to Cass. That, at least, I can get done.
I knock on her office door the next morning, right around the time she goes downstairs to grab her daily coffee.
But I’ve got one ready for her, to ease the pain of my news.
I push out the door, trying to refrain from humming “Me and Bobby McGee.”
“What?” Cass asks without looking up over her computer.
I smile. I’m going to miss this, the way we talk to each other like we’re still teenagers barging into each other’s rooms for a fight.
“I got you this,” I say, lowering her coffee on her desk.
Cass frowns. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I’m putting in my resignation.”
Cass smirks in that way she does when she’s trying not to laugh, but picks up the coffee, taking a sip. But when I don’t say anything else, she lowers her coffee, her smile dropping. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Yup.” I flop down in the chair across from her, grinning like a fool. “I can stick around for a bit, maybe through Christmas, but you should get Blake to start putting out feelers now for my replacement.”
I’m surprised to find I’m not nervous about this at all.
Maybe because Cass is my twin sister, who’s seen me through everything from howling in pain at the age of five when I caught my junk in the zipper of my monster truck pajamas to putting a hole through a wall of my best friend’s house when I found out he was sleeping with my little sister.
I sit up a little straighter at that memory. Classic Eli, overreacting because I was so sure Chelsea was in trouble. But I’m not like that anymore—if the Chef’s Apprentice situation has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes my habit of diving into things without thinking can turn out great.
Look where it’s gotten me with Reese.
I grin stupidly once again.
But Cass isn’t smiling. She just closes her eyes for a half second before she says, “No way, Eli.”
She goes back to her laptop.
I blink. I knew Cass would be pissed. But I don’t expect whatever this is.
“What are you talking about, no way?”
Cass snaps her laptop down and stands up in one quick move.
“No way in hell am I letting you throw everything you’ve got at a woman without even waiting a half second to decide if it’s remotely a good idea.
” She comes around the side of her desk and presses her forehead into her hand.
“Eli, I love Reese. To bits. In fact, I’m shocked she seems to be so into you, after what you pulled with her. ”
Somewhere, my phone buzzes with an incoming text. But I don’t look—there’s anger percolating in my chest at Cass’s words. “You don’t know anything about what happened between us, then or now,” I say, rising to my feet.
“I know you rushed into a relationship with her when the ink was barely dry on your divorce papers with Kelly.”
I take a breath, willing myself to not let the anger take hold. “We didn’t exactly have a relationship—”
“Right. Did she know that?”
My sister is making it very fucking hard. Still, I remember my words back then. I don’t do casual.
Cass continues. “I can’t believe you didn’t learn anything after giving Kelly everything.”
The anger comes up hot and sharp. It’s an old wound she’s pressed, one I thought was healed. “Things are different now, Cassandra,” I manage.
“Are they? Or are you in too deep with whatever you’ve got going on with Reese to see you’re just repeating history?”
Cass never did back down from a fight, especially not with me. “Cassandra,” I warn. I don’t want to fight with her.
“Do you think I’m an idiot, Eli? Reese couldn’t stand to be in the same room with you up until you ran into Kelly and offered our family business up on a platter for her.
So you pick up with Reese, who probably never quite got over all the Eli affection you bestowed on her before yanking it away, just to what, make Kelly jealous? You—”
My phone buzzes with another text alert, but all I can do is grit my teeth. “Cass, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” She has it all fucking wrong.
“Don’t I? Why are you quitting now, Eli? Is it because you want to show Kelly you’re part of Reese’s bright future?”
“Goddammit, Cassandra!” I shout. “This has nothing to do with Kelly. I’m in love with Reese!
I’m in goddamned love with her, in a way I never was with Kelly.
Not for a day. Not for a fucking minute, and I’m quitting because once you figure something like that out, that you’re in love with someone so incredible, so smart and kind and perfect, who cares about you despite your shit and who’s brave enough to wade through all her own shit to follow her dreams, you can’t stand to be disingenuous for one moment more. ”
Cass’s jaw hangs open and for a moment, there’s nothing but the echo of my words hanging between us.
“Eli,” she begins, but I shake my head.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”
“No, I’m—” But my phone buzzes again, insistent. This time, it’s a call.
“Goddammit,” I say softly, spent now. I pull it out to silence it, still breathing hard, then I pause, my stomach twisting at the name on the screen.
I look at my sister. “It’s Kelly.”
“Does she call you often?”
“Never,” I say, picking it up. “Kelly. What’s wrong?”
“Eli, you better come down here right away.”
All I can think is Reese.
Then I’m running.