Chapter 22 #2
We joined a short line at the bar, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me against his side. How did I go from someone who tolerated physical contact to someone who craved it in just a few short weeks? What spell did this man have me under?
I put my hand against his chest. I could feel his heart beating there, hard against my palm. “Do your parents put on a lot of these?” I asked.
“No, not really. Maybe one a year.” He lifted his hand in a wave. “There’s Michael and Tara.”
I shifted to follow his gaze. They were heading our way, Tara in a red, floor-length dress, Michael wearing a suit sans tie, like Elijah. I was beginning to feel a little underdressed.
“Oh my god,” Tara said when she reached us. “We had to walk from a block away. I thought they’d have a valet again this year.” She gave me a hug. “You look gorgeous.”
“You too,” I said.
“Is tonight the night Sutton has to pay the debts of her bet?” Michael asked. “I can pull the karaoke machine out of the storage room.”
My eyes went wide as I looked around the yard. “Absolutely not. I don’t really remember agreeing to that bet. It was just thrown out there. And even if I did, we still have one more session.”
He laughed. “Tara said you basically conceded.”
Of course Tara told him.
“We have one more session,” I said.
Elijah gave a throaty chuckle beside me as if he knew, like all of us did, that one more session wasn’t going to change anything. I may have known that, but there was no way I was doing karaoke in the middle of his parents’ charity dinner. I didn’t care what bet I did or didn’t make.
Why had I been so sure a therapist would know we were strangers?
Maybe our chemistry had been undeniable from the start.
Because we did have it—chemistry. It simmered there under the surface whenever he was around.
I could feel it now, warming my insides as his hand brushed my arm, as his voice tickled my ear.
“Yes, Michael. We have one more session,” Elijah teased.
“You’re lucky you don’t have to shave your head, Pretty Boy,” I said.
He gave a barking laugh as if he’d forgotten that side of the bet. It had probably left his mind after that very first session a month ago. “You’re lucky,” he said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back against his chest.
Tara looked between us and shook her head with a smile. “This is the weirdest thing ever.”
“What is?” Elijah asked.
“The two of you hitting it off. I would’ve never thought. You’re the complete opposite of one another.”
“I don’t think we’re all that different,” Elijah said.
She popped her brows up as if to say that we weren’t that far past strangers, if that’s what he thought. My stomach churned. Maybe he didn’t know me that well.
We were at the front of the line for drinks now, and we all put in our order, collected our drinks, and moved to a pub table. A man walked by with a tray full of bruschetta, and we each grabbed one. Michael grabbed three.
“How is your mom?” Tara asked.
“Slowly progressing,” I said.
“Concussions are terrible,” she said. “And her leg and lacerations, that has to make mobility a challenge.”
I nodded.
“You take her to the bathroom and shower and everything?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure why I didn’t want to answer that question except that I was a private person, always protected my mom. But maybe private was a nice way to say closed off, and closed off was a different way to say hyper-independent and that Dr. Franklin was right—it was a weakness. So I said, “Yes.”
“You shower her?” Michael asked. “That’s gotta be awkward.”
“I mostly just help her in and out of the shower, help her wash her hair. She can still do a lot. I try not to make it embarrassing for her.”
Elijah’s hand went to my lower back. “You’re good with her. She’s lucky you’re here.”
“Are you an only child?” Michael asked.
“I am.”
“Too bad you don’t have siblings to help.”
“Yeah.”
“And your dad?” he asked.
“In London.”
“What’s he doing there?”
“He’s in a symphony. He plays violin.”
“That’s cool,” he said.
“He’s still there?” Tara asked, eyes wide.
I nodded.
“He just up and left like fifteen years ago,” she said as an explanation to the guys. “Your mom was always so stoic about it. I don’t think I could be.” She looked at Michael. “I would murder you.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know how to play the violin, so you don’t need to worry.”
She laughed like we weren’t talking about one of the most traumatic moments of my life. “I used to play the piano. A long time ago.”
“You did?” he asked.
“I wasn’t any good,” she said.
“You were good,” I assured her, the guilt rising to the surface again. She had been, even if it was more for her parents than for herself.
“It was great to see your mom at the hospital the other day,” Tara said. “She’s so nice. She always tells me how proud she is of me. I need to come by and spend more than a few minutes with her.”
I bit the insides of my cheeks and nodded. “Yeah, you should.”
“Her mom is nice to you?” Elijah asked. “She hates me.”
“Smart woman,” Michael said with a laugh.
“She probably hates men because her husband screwed her over,” Tara said, laughing as well.
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I was so grateful for the interruption that I took in a relieved breath. I freed my phone, saw the word Mom scrolling across the screen, and turned the phone to Elijah. He nodded and I excused myself to the house.