Chapter 16
By “soon,” he meant early the next morning.
I had been up for a while, but I’d just gotten my mom out of bed and was starting the coffee when, like the night before, there was a soft knock on the door.
I was still in my pajamas. But like every morning, directly out of bed, I had already combed my hair and brushed my teeth.
“Who’s there?” Mom asked from the couch.
“I’ll check.”
“It’s too early for people,” she said.
“Agreed.” I pulled my hair into a low pony with the hair tie around my wrist and cracked open the door.
Elijah stood there with a plastic bag in his hand. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” I said.
He held out the bag. “Breakfast. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“I haven’t.”
“I got you that omelet you had at the diner last week.”
He remembered my order from the diner?
“And since I didn’t know what your mom likes to eat, there are several options for her. Another omelet, some French toast, an entire container of bacon.” Apparently his guilt about the day before hadn’t entirely left him.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” I said, but my stomach growled at the mention of bacon.
“I really did.” He held out the bag.
I stepped one bare foot onto the porch to retrieve it. He took in my pajamas—silky black pants and a matching button-down, long-sleeved top.
“Do you always look so cute in the mornings?” he asked.
“Keep your guilt compliments to yourself,” I said, but a traitorous blush crept up my face.
I tried to remember the last time anyone had called me cute.
When I was five years old in pigtails? I wasn’t generally regarded as cute.
Tall, intimidating, businesslike, sometimes stunning, when I put in the effort. But never cute.
He smiled his winning smile. I took the bag and he gave me a salute, then jogged to his car.
I closed the door and set the bag on the table, where I pulled the containers out one by one.
“You had food delivered?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” I said, because I didn’t want to explain that Elijah was bringing us food because he felt guilty about not coming over to help the day before. I was sure she’d have something to say about that. I was feeling too surprised … in a good way … to want my mom’s commentary right now.
I plucked a piece of bacon out of its container and took a bite. “What sounds good? Eggs or French toast?”
“You know I only do coffee first thing in the morning. And a banana. I’d like a banana.”
“More for me,” I said, taking another bite. I poured her a mug of coffee, peeled her a banana, and took them both to her.
“I can’t believe you answered the door like that,” she said, nodding toward my messy ponytail.
“I have it on good authority that I look cute,” I said.
She laughed like it was a joke.
I set her coffee and banana down on the TV tray before I gave in to any intrusive thoughts.
“Does this have my vanilla creamer in it?”
She has a reconstructed leg. She takes pain meds all day for it. She has to be helped onto the toilet. I would be grumpy too. I repeated these words over and over as I got her creamer.
Maybe I needed to put on some gloves and punch things again today. Good thing I happened to know someone who ran a boxing gym.
We really do need to exchange phone numbers, I thought as I climbed out of my car and headed to the gym.
I’d left my mom with her phone and the remote and pillows propped up just right and told her to call me if she needed me.
She was only sixty years old, she reminded me, and I was treating her like some frail old woman.
I didn’t remind her that she was sixty-two.
The gym was busier than the last time I was here. It was the weekend, so that made sense. My days all felt the same lately, but that didn’t mean everyone else’s were.
“Sutton,” a deep voice said, and I turned, thinking I was going to see Elijah, but it was Michael, standing by the wall of boxing gloves, rerolling wraps.
“Hi,” I said. “Elijah said I could come work out whenever.”
“Of course.” He nodded toward the shelves. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” I slowly walked forward, feeling way more intimidated this time than last time because I wasn’t sure I could help myself. I didn’t remember which gloves Elijah had picked out for me or if I could even get them tied up on my own.
“Eli isn’t here right now,” Michael said.
“That’s okay,” I said, even as feelings of disappointment settled onto my chest. Those feelings surprised me. “Did you get your wedding emergency under control?”
“Wedding emergency?” he asked, tossing me a rolled-up wrap.
I barely caught it, fumbling it between both hands before securing it against my chest. “Yesterday,” I said.
“Yesterday was insane here, we had a last-minute qualifier for the tournament next month. Trying to drum up more interest.”
“Oh.” My expression must’ve fallen because his eyes narrowed.
Then suddenly he lifted a finger as if he remembered something. “Oh! But I had to leave because our cake lady fell through and I had to taste some new flavors from a new cake person.”
“Right,” I said, wondering if he made up that lie on the spot, realizing his brother had lied to me or if that was actually true.
This was the guy who wanted to trick a therapist to get out of therapy, after all.
He obviously had no moral compass. I looked over my shoulder to see if Elijah had shown up and was feeding him lines.
He hadn’t. “Cakes are serious business.”
“You’re telling me,” he said.
I handed him back the wrap, not feeling up to boxing anymore.
“You don’t want to hit a bag?” he asked. “The speed bag is fun. I can show you how.”
“No, I think I’m good.” I walked back toward the door.
“I’ll let Eli know you came by,” he said.
“No need,” I said. “Tell Tara I say hi though.”
“Will do.”
I left the gym and headed toward my car.
But instead of getting in and going home, like I had planned to do after fleeing the gym, I picked up my pace and passed my car.
I settled into a steady jog. This area of Clovis was called Old Town.
It was made up of family-owned restaurants, used bookstores, boutique clothing shops, small music stores, and antique shops.
The storefronts looked as if they were out of an old western, with faux second-story balconies and even some posts where horses used to be tied before cars took over.
I jogged, trying to release all the tension in my neck and shoulders.
I was still sore from the boxing I’d done two days ago and from the Mom lifting I did at home and from the stress of trying to find a couple of new servers.
I had four more interviews this afternoon.
And I needed to call the chef and make sure the kitchen was running smoothly.
I didn’t want any drama to sneak up on me there.
In my call with Raya that morning, she hadn’t mentioned any problems, but I needed to double-check.
By the time I’d circled several city blocks and was back to my car, my neck and shoulders felt just as tense as when I started the run.
“Did you work out today?” The voice startled me as I was reaching for my car’s door handle, the back of my neck and hairline damp with sweat. Elijah’s face still caught me off guard sometimes. He really was a beautiful man—all dark features and sharp angles.
“Um, what? No. Yes. I’m leaving.”
“You okay?”
“Fine,” I said.
“I had a meeting with my dad this morning.”
“Okay,” I said, and opened my car door. “See you for therapy.” I climbed into my car, shut the door, and pressed the start button. My heart was beating fast as I watched him watching me through the front windshield.
I wanted to roll my window down and scream, “Might want to clue your brother in on the lie you decide to go with next time!” I didn’t do that.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. I just put my car in reverse and drove away.
He, like everyone else, could just think I was boring and cold. At this point, I agreed with them.