15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Elijah
I’d thought it was a solid plan to take the pressure off Will, but as soon as the door slammed and his truck engine rumbled away, I had regrets. The weight of his guilt was a palpable thing. My own vicarious guilt over burdening him drove me to suggest that we take time to figure out our situations. Honestly… it was perhaps one of the dumbest, most impulsive decisions I'd ever made. The biggest idiot award goes to yours truly. I pushed my breakfast plate away with a grumble. It clanked against Will’s abandoned meal like an accusatory bell calling out my colossal mistake.
I called. I texted. I called again. I kept calling until the phone stopped ringing and skipped right to voicemail, indicating he'd shut it off and I didn't blame him one bit. I'd hurt him. He came to me in a time of need and my short-sightedness resulted in me messing up again. Frustrated and angry with myself, I switched gears and dialed the one other person who knew full well the depths of my terrible decision-making skills.
“Hello, darling.” Lionel’s voice was chipper and bright in comparison to mine.
“Li, I fucked up.”
“I told you not to text Ashley! God, you never listen—”
“No. I… with Will. I told him we should pause our relationship and he left and now he isn't answering my calls.”
The dead air on the line was just as weighty as my regret. It went on for so long, I wondered if the call had dropped.
“Lionel?”
“Elijah, you are the biggest fool on the planet. Where are you?”
“At home. Why—”
“Don't even move a muscle, or I swear to God, I'll hunt you down and make you regret it.”
This time, the air was indeed dead. He’d hung up on me. Not for the first time, either. Sighing, I folded my arms on the table and dropped my head to rest on them. Maybe it was my guilt that had inspired me to call my sassy ex. He would surely make me feel as small and inadequate as I was. Self-flagellation via a former partner turned friend seemed apt, given the situation.
Twenty minutes later, I was still sulking at my kitchen table as the door to my home flew open. Lionel himself marched into the room with a flurry of energy that I had no hope of keeping up with.
“Idiot. First-class, grade A fool. I can't believe you!” Lionel's hands landed on my shoulders before shaking me vigorously. “Dumb, dumb, dumb!”
“I know! Stop—”
“Shh! That's enough talking. You aren't allowed to open your mouth without a chaperone.” He peeled me from the surface of the table and manhandled me until we were face-to-face. “We’re going to fix this. But you have to promise to keep. Your. Mouth. Shut.”
I mimed zipping my lips with a nod.
“Good boy. Now, the first order of business—go get dressed.”
I arched a brow in question, but his steely reserve and dramatically elevated eyebrow propelled me into motion. Lionel was a cuddly teddy bear with the hidden sass of a rabid coon. No one wanted to deal with Lionel when he let loose. I'd experienced it enough times to know. I scurried into the bedroom and did as I was told.
By the time I returned, my kitchen was tidy and Lionel was waiting with my keys and phone in hand. The jaunty pop of his hip and the tight-lipped expression on his face kept me silent. He gave my appearance a quick once-over, crinkled his nose, and bobbed a clipped nod before pivoting toward the front door with a pissy exhalation. I barely stifled my chuckle while falling into line and following him outside.
I was forced into the passenger seat of my own car with another severely arched eyebrow. Before I knew it, we were headed off to God knows where with him grumbling the entire time. Maybe he was finally done with my bullshit and intended on dropping me off on the side of the highway like a dog. Fitting, honestly. Imagine my surprise when Lionel parked my car in front of his flower shop instead.
“Li, why are we here?”
“Because we’re sending flowers to your boyfriend to apologize for being an idiot, then we are visiting the shops for retail therapy before concluding the day with a visit to Ashley’s salon so you can fix that mess on your head in time for the weekend.”
“Ashley? No. I’ll go to the Walmart salon before I do that—”
“The fuck you will. Get out. We have a bouquet to design.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and scowled, but it was ineffective, as always. Lionel was immune to my attempts at appearing withering and intimidating. He simply waltzed up to the front door of the quaint floral shop and snapped his fingers so I’d keep up. And, of course, I did. There was no winning when it came to him.
The air inside the postage stamp of a storefront was humid and warm and lush with the scent of flowers and foliage. Lionel’s packrat tendencies were on full display—dried flowers and baskets for arrangements hung from the timber rafters. Ready-made arrangements of all shapes and sizes and colors cluttered shelves and tables. Amongst them all, small gifts and trinkets filled any available spaces left. There were candles and figurines and handmade soaps and countless other items I would never be able to inventory. My heart softened as I watched him move through his space. It was easy to forget how ethereal, delicate, and fragile my former boyfriend was until I witnessed him floating among his flowers and treasures like the fae creature he resembled.
“I really appreciate this,” I murmured, carefully navigating the narrow space between the display tables to follow him deeper into the space.
He beamed at me with wide-eyed wonder and flushed. My Lionel was a good friend—a great one. I was lucky to have him, and once more, I found myself regretting all my selfish impulses, including those that had ruined our relationship. With all this self-reflection, I might have well become a damn mirror.
“I bet no one has ever got him flowers. People never get flowers for men.” He reached out and grazed the petal of a potted orchid with a slender finger. “Do you know what kind you want to give him?”
“I don’t know… something big and bright that screams ‘I’m an idiot and I’m sorry’ should do the trick. Do you have neon signs to send along with the flowers?”
“No, but there is rain in the forecast, and I betcha the thrift shop has an old boombox. Maybe stand outside his window with it over your head?” Lionel flashed a sneaky little smirk over his shoulder before shimmying around the counter to grab a step stool. Before I could offer to help, he was climbing to the top to pull a gigantic basket overflowing with sunflowers and yellow roses from a higher shelf. Apparently, he wasn’t done. I boggled as he opened a cabinet and pulled out a large handful of candy bars affixed to floral spikes.
“Oh, wow.” I crept forward and watched with rapt wonder as he arranged the candy amongst the blooms to create a snack-and-flower bouquet. Under any other circumstance, I would have laughed at the concept, but in reality, the idea was a brilliant one. The yellow background made the brightly colored wrappers pop. The more I thought about it, recalling my own sad-sack binge of ice cream the night before, the more I appreciated Lionel’s genius.
“Here, write your sorries on this.” Lionel plucked a sheet of heavy parchment from a paper tray I hadn’t seen amongst the prolific clutter.
Warily staring at the paper, I chewed my lower lip as my brain went blank. How could I honestly convey the tangle of my thoughts and emotions with a hastily scribbled note? The honest answer was that I couldn’t, so I kept it simple and hoped I’d have the chance to tell him face-to-face everything I’d meant, what I wanted, and how truly sorry I was.
Will, I am so, so sorry. My idea was a stupid one. Please call or stop by because I need you, too. All my love, EJ
Lionel snatched the paper from my hands as soon as I went to fold it in half, skimming the contents of my pitiful letter with an unrevealing expression. When he broke the silence, his question startled me into even more self-reflection.
“Do you? Love him, I mean?”
There was no noise but the quiet hum of refrigeration units and trickling water. Eventually, before it became too oppressive, I answered his question with more raw honesty than I’d spoken with in a long time.
“I do. I don’t think I ever stopped.” I skimmed his face and hoped I wouldn’t find hurt there. “I’m sorry. I do love you too, just—”
“Oh, gosh. Hush. I’m not mad. I know we love one another. Our love is different.”
Without giving him a word of warning, I stepped around the counter and swept him into a tight embrace. He was almost always the first to initiate physical affection, but this time, it was me who needed it more.
His arms wound around my torso and tightened. “Let's bring this to the station. He’ll find it tomorrow when he comes into work.”
“Thank you, Lionel. You are a good man and a great friend.”
“I know,” he teased with a grin. “Someone is going to be lucky to have me one day.”
Searching his face, my lips mirrored his with a smile. “Damn right. And you'll deserve every good thing that comes from it.”
“God, this is so sappy. What are we doing? We’re supposed to be saving your relationship from your idiocy, not writing Hallmark cards.” He swept a hand toward a display rack on the wall. “I have enough of those already.”
“Brat,” I quipped with a smirk. “God help the man who sets his sights on you.”
“I know, right?” Lionel laughed and moved through the tiny shop to shut off lights as I collected the bouquet of blooms and candy, swiping up the folded sheet of parchment at the last second with an air of hesitancy. Maybe this would work. Maybe it was too late. Regardless, I had to try.
A few moments later, we walked into Town Hall with the massive bouquet, garnering oohs and ahhs from passersby and town employees alike. If all else failed, at least it was good advertising for Lionel’s little business. My optimism was tempered before we even made it to the staircase leading to the police headquarters in the basement.
“Aww, how quaint.” Brixton’s icy tone echoed through the hallway and caused us both to turn without thought. “I'd have assumed you'd be scrambling to work on your little campaign instead of wooing the local Sheriff.”
“Brixton,” I replied with a clipped nod. Lionel mumbled something inaudible under his breath beside me. It was likely for the best that he didn't say whatever it was any louder, at least judging by the scowl twisting his delicate features into a look of hatred.
“I'm looking forward to this weekend. Perhaps we should have a fun little debate? The townsfolk will love to hear our positions, don't you think?” Brixton sauntered toward us with cool confidence and a laughably sardonic grin.
“Or we could not and say we did,” I countered with my best attempt at a charming smile. If ever there was a time I wanted Will’s dimpled grin as backup, it was now.
“Not very cooperative of you, Thompson.”
“Don't you have things to do, Hayden?” Lionel stepped forward with a jerk of his chin. The poor thing was a full foot shorter than Brixton, but his attitude more than made up for his lack of height.
“Indeed. You gentlemen have a lovely afternoon doing… that.” Brixton’s fingers fluttered toward the bouquet in my hands with a smirk. “I'll be off. There’s an election to win.”
With a wink and a humorless laugh, he turned on his heel and swaggered away, the sound of his whistling echoing through the space and setting my nerves on edge. God, how I despised this man.
“Li, I hate to say it, but I'm really not feeling retail therapy or a confrontation with Ashley today.” I sighed and hugged the flowers tighter to my chest.
“I won't fight you on that. He has a way of sucking the joy out of everything.”
“Cake and coffee?” I glanced toward him out of the corner of my eye as we resumed our walk to the police headquarters.
“Perfect, my dear.”
Flowers delivered and hearts weary, we linked arms outside the doors of Town Hall and slowly strolled toward our destination. Did my waistline need any more sugar-laden indulgences? Not at all. But I definitely needed to eat my feelings if I had any hope of resurrecting some sort of drive or motivation. As if on cinematic cue, fat raindrops broke from the sky above to leave dark marks on the slate in front of us. Even the heavens found the burdens too heavy to bear. It was fitting, really. Something had to give somewhere.