Chapter 22
We kissed! I wanted to scream.
I was sitting in Elijah’s car Saturday evening in my slinky black dress, my hair in loose beachy waves, the first time I’d worn it down in ages, my makeup on.
When he’d picked me up, his eyes had traveled over me like he wanted to take me right there on the porch.
I wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at me like that before.
My expression had probably been similar.
He wore a fitted black suit, a button-down white shirt with thin mint-green stripes, and no tie.
The color made the green in his hazel eyes pop.
He’d kissed my cheek, then stepped around me to poke his head through the door and greet my mom with a wave. She gave him a cold head nod.
She wasn’t happy I was going out, even though she constantly liked to tell me that she didn’t need me here and that she could take care of herself.
When I told her I was leaving for the evening, she reminded me she was still experiencing the symptoms of a concussion and that anything that might occur to her in my absence would be my fault.
“Mom,” I’d said. “Call me if you need me, okay? I’ll come. Or call 911. They’ll come too.” I wanted to add that I was not my father. I hadn’t ever been him. I’d made sure she knew that by calling like clockwork for ten years, visiting like clockwork.
“I’m not going to call 911,” she’d muttered.
“What should I do to get on your mom’s good side?” he asked now, his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a smile on his face.
“This is hard for you, isn’t it? Someone not immediately liking you.”
“Yes!” he said.
I laughed. “Maybe you’ll grow on her … in about thirty years,” I said, then my words caught up with me. “I mean, not that you’ll be hanging around me for thirty … well, if we’re friends or whatever … you don’t have to … but…” I trailed off. We kissed!
I’d been the one to kiss him first in that elevator, and even though he wholeheartedly kissed me back, I wondered if he’d wanted that to happen.
Had I wanted it to happen? God, did I seriously have to overanalyze everything?
It could’ve just been a kiss. Nothing more.
Nothing less. I was leaving, after all, eventually.
And he had to stay here to pay back his dad. We both knew that.
“Thirty years,” he said as though imagining that amount of time. “Tell me you don’t have your life planned for the next thirty years.”
“It was just the first big number that jumped into my mind.” But don’t you have the next thirty years of your life planned, Sutton? a voice in my head unhelpfully pointed out. “What about your parents? Do they like the people you bring home?”
“My parents will love you.”
After parking, we went through the front door of his parents’ large house, even though it seemed like most people were going through the side gate.
He just opened the door without knocking.
The tiled entryway was two stories high and was probably as big as my mom’s living room.
Straight in front of us was an extra-wide staircase leading up to the second story.
He led the way through the entryway to a great room.
It was full of rich wood moldings, a stone fireplace, and large windows.
“That picture is gorgeous,” I said, staring at the oversized black-and-white photo of Half Dome on the wall above the fireplace.
This was what the restaurant could use. Some California nature pics.
Big and bold. I wondered who took the picture and how expensive art like this would be.
Considering the house it was in, I was sure it was well beyond our price point.
I searched the corner of the photo for the artist.
“It’s Yosemite,” Elijah said. “It’s not hard to take a gorgeous pic of Yosemite.”
“I couldn’t take that picture.”
“I’m sure you could. With your iPhone even.”
I backhanded him playfully across the stomach.
“Don’t disparage artists. It’s not as easy as it looks.
” But even while saying it, I wondered if I could.
Yosemite wasn’t far. Could I drive up and take some decent pics with my phone that I could blow up?
Or would my attempt look worse than the cheap art we already had?
The living room was attached to the kitchen, and maybe I was exaggerating, but it seemed bigger than my entire apartment. Maybe I wasn’t exaggerating.
“You ready?” he asked, nodding toward a wall of what I thought were floor-to-ceiling windows but must have actually been doors since he was implying we could walk through them.
“Is this where you grew up?” I asked, curious if his parents had moved here more recently or if they had lived here for a while.
“It is,” he said.
“I want to see your bedroom,” I said. Maybe it was a stall tactic because suddenly I was nervous to walk into a party full of rich people. Or was it his parents I was more nervous about?
“I bet you do,” he said in his teasing voice.
“No, not like … I just want to see what you were like as a teen.”
“First food and drinks, I’m starving.”
“Fine,” I said with a smile.
The backyard was even bigger than the house. The yard was beautifully landscaped and, right now, set up for a party—tables and chairs and bars and lights and waitstaff. Were they really going to raise more money than they spent on this party?
There were already quite a few guests—at least forty or so—eating and drinking and mingling.
Elijah scanned the area and, after a minute, pointed to a group standing by the pool. “My parents. Let me introduce you, then we can get food?”
“Sounds good.” But it didn’t sound good. My palms immediately became clammy and my head light. Why would I be nervous about meeting his parents? We were nothing to each other but a fake relationship. Speaking of, did his parents know about the bet? About what we were doing? “Oh shit,” I said.
“What?” he asked, looking around like he’d see what caused my panic.
“I forgot your last name.”
He chuckled. “Russo.”
“Russo. Okay. Mr. and Mrs. Russo,” I mumbled, readjusted the small clutch I’d strapped around my wrist, which contained my phone, my lip gloss, and my touch-up powder, and took a step forward. Elijah did as well, his hand finding mine.
I was surprised at first, gulping in some air, then I curled my fingers around his. “Sorry my hand is sweaty,” I said under my breath.
“You really are nervous,” he said.
“Maybe. A little … A lot.”
“Don’t be. You are smart, charming, and gorgeous.”
“You and your pretty words,” I said, but a smile crept onto my face.
His hand tightened on mine. “Don’t make me show you with actions right now, we have an audience.”
My chest expanded with his words, making it hard to breathe for a moment. And then we were standing in front of his parents, and I had to catch my breath and quiet my insides because I was meeting them for the first time and thoughts of kissing and more weren’t helpful thoughts right now.
“Mom, Dad, this is Sutton.”
“Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Russo,” I said.
The first thing his mom’s eyes shot to were our connected hands, and it took everything in me not to drop mine.
She was a beautiful woman, who looked at least ten years younger than I was sure she was.
Her hair was long and a honey blond. Her skin was smooth, and her teeth were bright and white against her red lips.
“Hello, Sutton.” She extended her hand to me.
I let go of Elijah’s hand to shake it.
Elijah’s dad seemed a little more approachable.
He was average height and thick around the middle.
He had a full head of salt-and-pepper hair, tan skin, and dark eyes that were taking me in.
“Well, hello, young lady. It’s been a while since my son has brought someone home. ” He shook my hand with enthusiasm.
“It’s a charity event, Dad.”
“At our home,” he said, and slapped Elijah on the back with a hearty laugh. This man had sold a lot of cars in his life, I just knew it.
“Dad,” Elijah said. “Sutton owns a restaurant in Los Angeles.” Really? He was going to open with that? Just throw it right out there. Maybe he was trying to make me more comfortable, get me onto a topic that I could talk about.
“You don’t say!” Mr. Russo said. “That’s impressive. What kind?”
“It’s a contemporary bar and grill.”
“We’ll have to check it out next time we’re down there,” he said. “What’s it called?”
“Luminesce. I started it with a friend last year.”
“And how is it going?”
“There have been some growing pains, but it’s hanging in there.” That last review was going even more viral than the first, and we had actually noticed a dip in our sales. It was stressful, and I felt like there was nothing I could do from this far away except worry. But we were hanging in there.
“We have some friends who own a restaurant,” Mrs. Russo said. “It’s a lot of work. The first two years are make or break.”
“Yeah,” I said with a gulp. “They are.”
“Do you enjoy it?” he asked.
“I do.”
“That’s the important thing,” Mr. Russo said.
I raised my eyebrows at Elijah, hoping that just my expression would say, See, your dad thinks you should enjoy your work.
“We’re going to get some food,” Elijah said.
“Please do,” his mom said. “And thanks for coming, love. It means a lot to us.” She placed a hand on his cheek and kissed the other.
“Of course, Mom. Happy to be here.”
“You too,” she said to me with a warm smile. “Thank you for coming. I’m so glad to meet you.” She surprised me with a hug.
“Thank you. You too.” I hugged her back, a lump forming in my throat.
As we were walking toward the bar, Elijah grabbed my hand again. “I told you they’d love you.”
“They seem like the type who love everyone.” I hadn’t realized the lump was still in my throat, and my voice came out squeaky.
His brows shot down. “You okay?”
I swallowed and nodded. Did he know how lucky he was to have parents who said kind things and gave soft hugs and offered words of encouragement? “I am. I’m fine. Just need a drink.”