17. Alex
“Alex, honey, you look stunning,” Mom says.
“Thanks.” I smooth my hands down the sides of my shimmering black cocktail dress that hugs all my curves as we walk toward the doors of one of the fanciest hotels in downtown Los Angeles.
“I know you’ve been so busy with the start of the school year, but it means so much to your dad that you agreed to come to this event. We both know how much you hate them.”
I force a smile to my lips as the sliding doors open and we walk into the brightly lit foyer. “You know I wouldn’t miss tonight,” I say truthfully.
While I hate going to my dad’s work events and have managed to skip out on them for most of my adult life, I know this one means a lot to him. He’s getting a prestigious award for being an innovator in the creative media space, one he worked hard to get.
“You know who else is going to be here?” Mom smiles.
My stomach drops as we get directed to the ballroom where the event is taking place. “Please don’t tell me it’s that stuck-up hotelier you asked me to give a second date to?”
She lets out a high-pitched laugh. “No, no. Though I still think you should give Brad a second chance.”
I wrinkle my nose. Anyone named Brad only gets one chance in my book. “He was over thirty minutes late to our date last week and used a fork to pick chicken from between his teeth. Who does that?”
“Okay, fine. You’re right. But I’m not talking about Brad.”
“Please tell me it’s not another man you’re trying to set me up with?”
“I wish, but no. Elijah will be here—we should be sitting at a table with him.”
My steps falter, and the hair rises on the back of my neck. “Oh, that’s nice of him to come,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t sound too squeaky.
“He insisted when your dad told him. I know you guys spent time together last month at the lake house. I can’t believe your dad and I did that to you both. I’m still so embarrassed.”
I take a shallow breath, trying not to flush. “It’s fine. We made do.”
She smiles at me, completely oblivious that when I say “made do” I mean we fucked all over her beloved lake house for an entire weekend. My thighs clench together at the memory.
“I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you. Your dad said he’s a completely different man since he came back. Says his spirit is lighter. He leaves work on time now and even asked if he could take on some more creative work, reshape his role a bit.”
“Oh?” I ask curiously as we walk through the entrance to the ballroom. Voices and music drift around us as glassware clinks loud in my ears.
“Yes. Normally, your dad doesn’t talk much about him, says their guy time is sacred or something, but he wants to offer Elijah the lake house more often. Says it’s good for his business.” She laughs.
My stomach turns as we walk further inside. I should be glad that Elijah is doing more of what he wanted. That he’s happy. It seems he took my advice and spoke to my dad about his position at the company. But a selfish part of me was hoping he’d be miserable, missing me like I’ve missed him.
For the last month, I’ve tried anything and everything not to think about him, even going on that horrendous date with Brad. But I can’t seem to shake him. Elijah’s literally burned himself into my corneas. Into my skin. I swear, every man I see with gray hair is him. And when I close my eyes at night, I gaze into his sapphire-blue ones and feel his warm hands caressing my body.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “That’s good. I think I’m going to stop at the bar before I sit. Do you want something?”
“Sure, honey. A white wine would be lovely. Your dad texted that he’s backstage right now talking to the organizer but will be out in a minute.”
“Sounds good.”
Mom walks off, and I don’t bother to see where she goes. I’m sure I’ll be able to spot her and Elijah’s silver hair from a mile away.
Thankfully, the bar line isn’t long, and I’m quickly at the front of the line.
“I’ll take the best red you have and a chardonnay,” I tell the bartender with a smile. He’s cute with short blond hair and dimples. He’s probably around my age or a tiny bit younger.
He smiles at me, revealing a row of straight white teeth. “I’m afraid the best red I have is an overly warm blend.”
I cringe. “Didn’t spring for the good stuff, huh?”
“Not with wine, at least. But I can offer you some nice vodka, or I hear the champagne isn’t too bad.”
I debate taking a shot but then decide against it. My stomach is already nervous because I know Elijah will be here. I don’t want to make it worse or get drunk and accidentally let my dad know I slept with his best friend.
My body grows hot. “I’ll suffer with the overly warm blend.”
“I respect that choice,” the bartender says. He pulls out two glasses and pours the cold chardonnay first before doing mine.
“You come to these things often?” he asks, his eyes moving up and down my body as he slides the wine glasses forward.
“No, not really. Do I look like I do?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice level so he doesn’t think I’m flirting with him.
“You fit in.” He looks down my dress again, lingering longer than I’d like when he reaches my cleavage. “Though it seems like you don’t want to be here.”
I pull open my clutch and grab a tip for him, feeling slightly uncomfortable now. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll have to work on my poker face.”
As I put the tip down on the bar and reach for my drinks, his hand shoots out and rests on top of mine. “My break is in fifteen minutes if you want to talk more.”
My eyes narrow at the audacity of this man. But before I can say anything, a warm, steady hand is on my back and the tickle of a beard is in my ear.
“Please remove your hand from my wife,” a familiar baritone voice warns.
The bartender’s touch disappears as the hair on my arms stands on end. I don’t have to turn my head to know who has come to my rescue, who would dare to call me his wife.
“I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t see a ring,” he says, holding up his hands.
“Ring or not, your behavior is uncalled for.”
The heat in my body rises from embarrassment and arousal. I shouldn’t be aroused, but I can’t help it. Elijah is here. He’s touching me. He called me his wife. I indulge in the comfort of his masculine body for a moment, enjoying the familiarity and safety I feel in his arms. The pressure of his hand on my back deepens, and my heart beats faster in my chest.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please grab a drink and take a seat. We’ll start the ceremony in about fifteen minutes,” the emcee’s voice says over the loudspeaker.
I stiffen, and I blink, remembering where we are. We’re in public. My parents are here. People, including my mom and dad, could be watching. I put space between me and Elijah and grab the drinks off the bar top.
“I’m sorry,” the bartender says. “I really thought—”
“It’s fine,” I cut him off, needing to get out of this situation. I bump Elijah with my shoulder. “Come on. Let’s go to our table.”
My voice snaps Elijah out of his stare down with the bartender. He looks at me, his azure gaze drinking me in as if he fully noticed that I was standing there, that I’m real.
“Let me take those,” he says, reaching for the drinks.
“I’ve got them.” I smile, my cheeks tense.
At my refusal to let him help me, his jaw clenches. Anger rises in my belly, flushing my chest and my cheeks. His eyes watch it happen, and I see him lick his lips. Elijah reaches out and touches my arm, and I swear my entire body lights on fire.
“Alex,” he whispers.
I shake my head, unwilling to trust my voice. I’m at war in my mind right now. One part of me wants to take him into a dark corner and mold my body against his, to kiss the lips I’ve missed so much the last month. But then another part of me wants to yell at him for being a Neanderthal, for staking his claim on me in public when he’s made it clear what our weekend was: just one weekend. Which I couldn’t and wouldn’t fault him for. But then he goes and calls me his wife the first time he sees me?!
“We should get to the table,” I snap, walking briskly away from him.
Trying to ignore Elijah’s presence at my back, I walk through the crowd, eventually spotting my mom’s blonde head and my dad’s gray hair. I’d recognize him anywhere because he’s got a small bald spot at the top that Mom’s been trying to get him to “take care of,” aka get hair plugs or a toupee. But Dad will hear nothing of it. He says aging is cool and hip now. I don’t know if that’s true, but that’s Oliver Martin for you. He walks to the beat of his own drum.
“Alex,” Elijah says as we get closer to the table, but I don’t turn to look at him. “We should talk.”
I shake my head. “Not here.”
He sighs, but I don’t know what he expects. He wanted to keep our relationship a weekend thing, and I respected that. I also don’t want to ruin my dad’s night. Because finding out his best friend and I fucked at his lake house isn’t exactly something a person reveals at an awards function. Or ever.
Mom’s head turns as I approach. “There you are!”
At her proclamation, Dad’s head turns, too. “Look who it is! We were wondering if you got lost.”
I force a smile for my parents while I hand Mom the now sweating glass of chardonnay. “Sorry, I picked up a stray at the bar,” I say.
They both notice Elijah at the same time, and their grins broaden. “Well, well. You clean up nice, you son of a gun,” Dad says, standing to greet Elijah with a handshake and a man hug.
“You don’t look too bad yourself, Martin.” Elijah pats his back. While he looks normal and happy, I can see his pinched brow from here, showing me his signs of distress. I want to walk over and smooth it away; instead, I grip my wine glass as Dad steps away from Elijah to hug me.
“You look beautiful, honey,” he says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
After Mom hugs Elijah, we all sit. Thankfully, it’s a round table, and Elijah is sitting next to my dad while I’m on the other side next to my mom. There are three empty chairs between us. At first, I thought it was a good thing we weren’t next to each other, but now he’s in my direct line of sight to the stage, so I have no choice but to stare at him.
Dad’s right—he does look nice. Who am I kidding? He looks more than nice. His silver hair and salt-and-pepper beard are styled perfectly, and the black fitted suit he’s wearing looks as if it was tailored for his body. The masculine and lean body I’ve imagined lying on top of mine every night. The body I’ve craved to hold me.
I cross my legs under the table and take a sip of my wine, hoping a little alcohol will soothe my nerves. I cringe at the flavor—the bartender was right. It’s too warm. It’s also just not good.
“Not to your liking?” Elijah’s question reaches my ears.
I flush at his words, my eyes darting to my parents. They don’t think anything funny of the comment, and why would they? To them, it seems like he’s simply making conversation. But all I’m thinking of is my dinners with Elijah. Of our time in the hot tub when I had the taste of merlot and his cum on my tongue. And by the secret smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he’s thinking of it, too.
“It’s fine,” I say, taking another sip, though I can’t hide my grimace.
Dad chuckles. “You have a delicate palette, Alex. Elijah, you should see my girl at the vineyards in Napa. She gives every sommelier a run for their money.”
I flush. “I’m not that good, Dad.”
“I beg to differ. You’re remarkable,” Elijah says almost too quickly, making my parents blink at him in confusion.
My now fully red cheeks combined with my wide-eyed stare has him recognize his error. He takes a sip of the water in front of him before he says, “Alex was kind enough to teach me about wines when we were at the lake house.”
“Oh, yes.” Dad smiles, his shoulders relaxing. “I keep forgetting about that accident.”
“I swear Oliver and I talk to each other,” Mom says to Elijah. “I’m the one who keeps track of who is staying when, and I thought it would be free for Alex to take.”
“It’s okay, Stephanie,” Elijah says. “It was nice to have company.”
“You never did say what you did that weekend,” Dad says, taking a sip of what looks like whiskey while bouncing his gaze between Elijah and me.
I didn’t say because I knew I could never keep a straight face. My gut wrenches, and I wish more than anything I wouldn’t have come tonight. Had I known Elijah would be here, I would have faked sick or something to avoid this exact moment.
“I told you about it, Oliver. We mostly spent time separately except for meals when Alex offered to cook.”
I close my eyes for a brief moment, thinking of our meals together that weekend, how we fell so easily into a routine with each other. I haven’t cooked much since then, not only because I’ve been short on time with work but because it reminds me too much of him.
“Right, right,” Dad says. “I remember you saying that now.” But by the way he continues to look between me and Elijah, I feel like he knows something. Which would be impossible. It’s not like he had cameras inside the house. Do I have “I fucked your best friend and VP” stamped across my forehead?
Just as it seems like Elijah is about to say something, Mom interrupts. “Oh look, Alex. Brad is here.”
Goosebumps break out over my arms—not from the mention of Brad alone, but from Elijah’s intense stare. Thankfully, Dad’s eyes are following Mom’s, and they are ignoring us. I swallow, diverting my focus away from a steely Elijah.
“You should go say hi to him,” my mom says, and I purse my lips.
Dad chuckles when he sees my sour face. “Stephanie, darling, stop trying to set her up with Brad. You know how poorly that date went. Plus, I don’t like him, either.”
Mom whacks his shoulder. “You don’t like anyone for Alex.”
Dad takes another sip of his drink, his eyes smiling at me. “That’s because nobody is good enough for my little girl.” When he puts his drink down, he turns his attention to Elijah, who is now looking quite pale. “When you have kids, Astor, you’ll get what I’m saying. You’ll want to murder anyone who even looks at your child wrong.”
Elijah swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing on his cleanly shaven throat. Thankfully, the awkward moment is broken by the lights dimming and the emcee’s voice over the loudspeaker welcoming everyone to the awards. Dad’s focus goes to the stage, and he says something to Elijah that I can’t hear.
I pick up my wine glass and pray his award is early on so I can fake a stomachache and leave before they serve the food. While the man onstage talks about innovation and the hard work it takes to be an entrepreneur, I can’t help but watch Elijah’s side profile. He’s paying attention to the awards, but I can see his jaw clenched and brow pinched from here. He’s most likely remembering what my mom said about my dad not liking anyone for me. He’s probably convincing himself that he was right for keeping what we had to one weekend.
As I reach for my water, Stephanie leans over and whispers in my ear.
“Honey, did something happen between you and Elijah?”
My mouth turns to sandpaper. “What?” I say, attempting to keep my voice level and very quiet. “Why would you ask that?”
“Call it a mother’s intuition.”
I give her the Are you joking? look, and she sighs, saying even quieter now, “And you keep giving each other funny looks.”
Busted. God, I’m bad at this. I want to lie to Mom, but I know that if I do, she’ll see right through it. I’ve never been that great of a liar.
“We can’t talk about this here,” I say as Dad looks over at us.
“Everything okay?” he wonders quietly.
“Yes, dear.” Mom smiles at him. “Just gossiping.”
He grins and turns back to the awards. I dare a glance at Elijah, who’s looking at me again, but then he quickly turns away. Crap, this is bad. As I’m about to excuse myself to the restroom so I can breathe, Dad says, “This is me.”
Thankful for the distraction, I try to give my full concentration to the announcer and another woman who came up onstage to talk about my dad’s achievements. Eventually, they call him up to the stage, and he stands, kissing Mom on the head and beaming at us before he walks off to collect his award.
With my dad no longer at the table, I fail in my attempt to keep my focus from Elijah and shift my eyes back to him. As if he can sense it, he turns his head, and we stare at each other. I try to convey to him that I think Stephanie knows, but his blue eyes remain steady. God, I wish I could speak mind to mind with him, to tell him I think our secret isn’t so secret anymore. And if it is, it won’t be for long.
Mom clears her throat loud enough that Elijah and I both break our connection and look to her. “When Oliver gets back, go to the bathroom, Alex. And you”—she commands Elijah—“go get a drink. Then you both can talk.” She scans the room and motions with her head to a side door. “Go all the way down the hall and to the left; there’s a veranda outside. He won’t find you there.”
Elijah’s mouth drops open like a fish out of water. I shrug at him because what else can I do? He’s probably thinking I told her, but I haven’t said a word. Apparently, we really suck at pretending everything was just a normal weekend at the lake house.
Mom smiles softly at me. A smile that says whatever is going on is okay. I should’ve known that she wouldn’t care if Elijah and I spent more than platonic time together. She’s always been supportive of me, no matter what I’ve chosen to do—or who I’ve chosen to do. She even supported me in my relationship with Sean, though I knew she didn’t like him, either.
I gulp down the rest of my disgusting wine and force my attention back to the stage. Dad is happy as he holds his award and launches into his speech, talking about the work he loves to do and why he does it. I love seeing him like this. My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat, and I start to think that maybe Elijah was right after all; we can’t tell my dad. But now that Mom sort of knows, he has to find out eventually, right? I doubt she would be able to keep that secret—at least not for long.
I observe Elijah. He’s worried and confused, and I don’t blame him. I am, too. When the clapping starts, I take a deep breath and spot my dad as he comes back to the table. Mom is the first to hug him, then I get up and do the same. Elijah claps him on the back as he sits down and sets the fancy glass award on the table.
“Beautiful speech, Oliver,” Mom says, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Thank you.” Dad smiles, picking up the award. “I can use this as a fancy door stop.”
I roll my eyes, and Elijah chuckles. With a sip of my water, I decide it’s now or never. Part of me wants to run away from this, but with Stephanie peering at me and Elijah fidgeting as if he might crawl out of his skin, I know I need to face the proverbial music.
“Please excuse me; I’m going to use the restroom,” I say, standing. I give Dad a small smile, and he mirrors it while Stephanie tries to reassure me with a gentle look. My gaze skips over Elijah, not wanting to draw any attention to us.
I brush my hands down my black dress as I weave my way through the tables and people until I’m outside the ballroom. I turn right and go down the hallway, taking the directions Mom gave me until I meet the doors of the veranda. They automatically slide open, and I’m greeted by the cool night air.
Turning to the left, I walk down the long porch until I’m the furthest I can possibly be from the doors. Once I’m satisfied with the distance, I lean against the white railing and take a deep breath.
Then I wait for Elijah.