Chapter 5
Chapter Five
‘Have you been eating enough?’
Elliot sighed. His mother had been in town for exactly thirty minutes, and she was already asking about his eating habits. She was eagle-eyeing him over her cup of tea.
‘Every day, Mom. Usually multiple times.’
‘You look gaunt.’
‘Thanks so much.’
‘Don’t be fresh.’ She pointed a finger at him but then relented and patted his cheek. ‘I worry about you.’
The words I worry about you would probably be his mother’s last words. They’d probably be printed on her tombstone. He shook his head, feeling immediately guilty for thinking about his mother’s tombstone. Like most good sons, he assumed his mother would live forever.
‘I know, Mom. Sorry.’
She was already ignoring his apology and staring at him again, studying.
Assessing. Elliot’s mother was intense. She always had been.
Raising two boys on her own, she’d had to be.
His father had died when Elliot was only a baby.
It was no wonder she was a worrier. Elliot often thought it was a miracle he and his brother had survived, what with Caleb’s tendency to do stupid shit like jump off the garage roof onto the neighbor’s trampoline, and Elliot’s desire to never leave his room.
His mother had done a pretty darn good job of making sure they were both functioning members of society.
But sometimes she forgot that he was a thirty-two-year-old man, perfectly capable of feeding himself. This was her sixth visit since he moved here a year and a half ago. Six visits in eighteen months was too many. Especially when she was just here to check up on him.
‘This is a cute cottage,’ he said, changing the topic away from his apparent ‘gauntness.’
‘It’s adorable. I just don’t know why I couldn’t stay at the inn.’
Elliot knew exactly why. He was working at the inn now. She’d stayed there during her prior visits but his mother staying at his current place of employment was not something he needed in his life. In fact, this entire visit wasn’t something he was particularly looking forward to.
He loved his mother, but her fussing over him had exploded after his divorce.
He had been a mess after Leigh told him she wanted to end things.
He knew that. He had retreated from the world entirely.
Stopped showing up to work. The renovation business he and Caleb ran together suffered.
He knew it was bad. And for six months his mother and brother had done nothing but dote on him and worry about him and check on him.
It only made him feel worse.
So, he left the business, packed up his things and moved to Dream Harbor, a town he’d only been vaguely aware of but that seemed like as good a choice as any.
He’d been buying and fixing up old houses and selling them when he got the job renovating the inn—a job he loved.
And he started seeing a therapist. He was trying, and he actually felt reasonably competent again.
Ready for a new relationship? Certainly not.
But perfectly capable of feeding and caring for himself.
His family, however, was not convinced.
His mother was at least pretending she was here for other reasons.
She’d said she wanted to come spend some time by the sea, ignoring the fact that she lived in Tampa, directly next to the sea.
Coming to New England to spend time by the sea in April made no sense.
It was still rainy and cold most days. There was snow predicted for Thursday!
The cottages surrounding hers would probably be vacant until June, but Noah was doing him a favor.
She insisted, however, that she was not here to check on her baby boy. She just liked it here, she said. She’d probably come visit the town even if he didn’t live here. His mother was a terrible liar.
His brother didn’t even bother trying to lie. He still sent daily texts checking in on Elliot’s mental health.
How are you feeling today, El?
Get out of bed today?
I read an article about the benefits of daily sunlight.
Answer me so I know you’re alive.
Elliot! Where are you?
And the worst one of all:
If you don’t answer me, I’ll just have to drop by.
Which was something Caleb did every now and then, filling in the time between their mother’s trips to town.
The visits were always short and awkward.
Elliot didn’t love being reminded of how he’d bailed on the business they’d built together—not that Caleb ever brought it up—or how messed up he’d been after the divorce.
He didn’t love being reminded that Caleb had always been the strong one, the brave one.
Caleb was big and hearty, and their mother probably never told him he looked gaunt.
And these were absurd thoughts for a grown man, but it was hard to get over the wounds of childhood.
Caleb had always been the one most likely to succeed at anything, really.
Yet for a brief period in time, Elliot had felt like he had won at something.
He’d gotten married. He had a house and a yard.
It felt like, by some arbitrary metrics, he’d been in front for a while.
His marriage ending had only brought things back to their natural state, Caleb thriving and Elliot barely hanging on.
‘I thought you’d like having more space,’ he said, gesturing around the tiny house, trying to not be a complete ass to his mother despite his feelings about her being here.
The cottage was small, but it was still bigger than a hotel room.
There was a cozy sitting area with two overstuffed chairs by the front windows, looking out at the sea; all new hardwood floors, and Noah had done the place in a cream and navy color scheme, accentuating the seaside New England vibe.
Art from local artisans on the wall included a kitschy map of Dream Harbor and a fish made entirely of sea glass.
The kitchenette had just enough space to cook and eat the day’s catch (not that his mother had any intention of fishing while she was here) and the bedroom comfortably fit a queen-sized bed and a dresser.
It was the perfect space for his mom. He knew she would especially love the front porch that Noah had added, complete with its two rocking chairs.
Elliot had to hand it to him; the guy did a great job.
‘And this way you have a kitchen.’
She smiled at that. ‘True. Now I can cook for you.’
‘Sure, that would be great.’
By the time they were sitting down to a meal with enough calories to feed a linebacker, his mother was ready to dive into the real reason for her visit.
‘Have you been getting out?’
‘I go to work every day,’ Elliot said, shoveling another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth. He’d rather bulk up than rehash this conversation with his mom.
‘You know what I mean, Elliot.’
She still thought of him as that little boy who would spend hours in his room, tucked away reading his history books. Or the man too broken to leave the house after his wife decided she didn’t love him anymore.
He didn’t know what it would take for his family to see that he was doing fine.
Okay, maybe not that fine.
Maybe he still spent too much time alone.
So, he wasn’t thriving. But he was okay.
‘I get out plenty.’
‘You’re dating?’
He squeezed his eyes shut. Of course that was what his mother wanted. That was what would convince her he was fine.
But Elliot didn’t date. Not really. Far too shy in high school to ever ask anyone out, he’d fallen in love in college with the first girl who’d shown an interest in him and married her.
Clearly, that hadn’t worked out great. And he now spent his time mourning the loss of his marriage and the one person he thought he’d spend the rest of forever with.
It hadn’t been an easy adjustment for him.
How was he supposed to go from planning to spend eternity with a person, to never seeing them again? It didn’t make sense.
His morning with Daisy popped into his head.
Did pretending to be someone’s boyfriend for a few minutes count as a date?
‘I’ve gone on a few.’ He looked down at his plate to avoid his mother’s eye while he quite blatantly lied. But he couldn’t take it! His mother’s concern for him. It was too much. He didn’t want to date. He didn’t want the crushing disappointment of things not working out. Being alone was safer.
‘That’s wonderful!’ His mother lit up. ‘It’s been a long time since the divorce, El. I’m so glad you’re finally moving on!’
Moving on. How does one actually move on from the biggest devastation of their lives?
He cleared his throat. ‘Yep.’
‘What’s her name?’ his mom asked, leaning conspiratorially across the table, like it was a secret, like they weren’t the only two people in the tiny house.
‘Uh … Daisy.’
‘Daisy!’ His mother clasped her hands together over her heart. ‘How sweet.’
Well, that was surely going to come back to bite him in the ass. Why the hell had he said Daisy?! He couldn’t have just made up literally any other name?
‘What’s she like?’
‘Um…’
How to describe the woman he’d formed a secret crush on a year ago but had been avoiding ever since except for this morning when he held her hand and now couldn’t stop thinking about it?
‘She … uh … owns a flower shop.’
‘A Daisy who owns a flower shop? How perfect.’
‘Yes.’
‘And…’
‘And … uh … she has brown hair.’ That sits just at her shoulder and looks like it would be silky to touch. ‘And brown eyes.’ More amber, really. Not that he would ever describe someone’s eyes as amber to his mother. ‘And she’s funny.’ She jokes about keeping dead bodies in her basement.
‘She sounds lovely! Maybe I’ll get to meet her.’
Panic shot through his body.
‘Well, it’s all very casual still.’ She’s clearly still hung up on her ex and so am I.
‘You don’t want me to scare her off. I get it. But I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.’ His mom beamed at him across the table, and between the copious amount of spaghetti and the guilt from his lies, Elliot could feel the heartburn kicking in.
For someone trying to avoid relationships, he sure seemed eager to be in this fake one. And he would be absolutely mortified if Daisy found out… Although, maybe she owed him one?
Maybe one chat between Daisy and his mother could get her off his back for a while?
Daisy had been more than happy to use him as a shield against her ex, so maybe he could use her to convince his mother he was perfectly fine.
If nothing else worked, maybe seeing him with someone new would finally do the trick.
He might need to pop back into the flower shop after all.