Chapter Eighteen Adam
“Fuuuck, that’s good.”
Eleanor’s moans are the greatest soundtrack I’ve ever heard in my life.
Though, admittedly, I like it best when I’m responsible for her pleasure.
Right now the credit goes to a room service waffle.
I swallow a bite of my burger and watch with rapt attention as she licks a bit of whipped cream off her finger and hums happily.
My cock starts to wake up again, and I adjust myself in my boxer briefs as subtly as I can.
Eleanor is too absorbed in her food to notice, and I can’t say I blame her.
I’m starving, too, and I ate back at the strip club.
I’m not sure Eleanor’s had anything besides coffee, water, and pretzels all day.
“Should’ve ordered two,” I say before taking another huge bite of my burger.
She nods and shrugs. “Knowing Ralph, there will be good food at the after-party.”
Still chewing, I hold out my plate wordlessly. Eleanor grabs a few fries and immediately shoves them into her mouth.
I grab one of the thick cloth napkins from the room service tray and wipe my hands off. “Speaking of…” I swipe the napkin across my mouth, too, and aim for casual when I say, “Jane gave me a few recommendations for restaurants back in LA.”
“Oh yeah?” Eleanor glances over briefly before picking up her fork again and dipping another piece of waffle into the maple syrup.
“Yeah. Maybe we could check one out together.”
Eleanor stops chewing for a moment. She looks over at me and lifts a hand to cover her mouth. She hurries to swallow, and with her fingers still hovering in front of her lips, she asks: “Like a date?”
The question makes her flush, cute as hell.
“Yeah. You like cliché dinner dates, right?”
Her hand drops to reveal a scowl. “Classic.”
I grin and pick up a fry. “If you say so.”
“You are really bad at asking people out, you know that? You’re supposed to flatter me, not make fun of me.”
“Huh. Usually, I just name-drop my dad.”
Eleanor’s eyes widen. “Have you seriously done that?”
I’m quiet a beat too long.
“Oh my god.”
“No, listen. I haven’t.… However, well-intentioned friends may have used that line on my behalf once or twice before.”
“Did it work?”
“I mean. For a one-night stand, sure.”
Eleanor shakes her head in mock disappointment. “Well, you’re going to need to up your game if you want a date with me.”
Before she’s even finished speaking, I set my plate back on the tray and knee-shuffle over to her side of the bed. “Eleanor. I think you’re really smart and cool and fun to be around.”
“Thank you,” she says primly. And then she lifts a brow, like, go on.
Still smiling so hard my cheeks hurt, I ask: “Will you go on a date with me?”
“I don’t know… I’ve never dated a divorcé before.”
I tip my head in acknowledgment. “First time for everything.”
Her eyes flit down to her plate, and back up to me again. “Fine. You can take me to dinner.”
I bite my lip and do a slow, celebratory fist pump, which makes Eleanor roll her eyes, but she’s smiling, so I count it as a win.
She’s still wrapped up in her plush robe, hoarding all the pillows behind her back. Her plate is balanced in her lap, but she sets it aside as she reaches over to snag her phone from the bedside table.
“Shit. I never called my sister back.”
I manfully ignore the way her robe has fallen open to reveal her leg all the way up her thigh and scoop my shorts up off the floor. “I can get out of your hair.”
“Oh.”
I look at Eleanor over my shoulder as I button my fly. “ ‘Oh’?”
She’s sitting with her knees curled in now, cheeks gone pink.
“You don’t have to go. I don’t really have time to call her now anyway. I should start getting ready for the show.”
This mention of the show is momentarily jarring. I didn’t forget about it, exactly. But I was preoccupied, for obvious reasons. Now I check my watch and realize Eleanor is right—if we want to make it for the actual show, not just the after-party, we need to get moving.
Eleanor catches my frown and stands up, tightening her robe. “I mean, you can go, obviously. I’m realizing you probably want to go back to your room to shower or change.”
My fingers drag across the stubble on my jaw. I still need a shave. A fresh shirt wouldn’t hurt either. “I don’t have to,” I echo. “If you want some company while you get ready.”
A shy smile tugs at Eleanor’s lips. “Cool.”
Eleanor goes to pick out the clothes she wants to wear while I find my shirt and tug it back on, smiling to myself at the sense of déjà vu it brings about.
It’s mind-boggling that only a few hours ago I was so concerned about anyone finding out about our night together.
Still hate that I hurt Eleanor’s feelings over that.
I glance over at where she’s sorting through her suitcase and feel the question bubbling up.
I try to swallow it back, but this trip has proven my willpower is shot.
“Do you think you’ll ever tell her about us?”
Immediately, I’m mentally cringing over that phrasing. To be fair, I was inside her like an hour ago. And she said yes to dinner. But that doesn’t exactly mean there’s an us.
Eleanor hesitates, and I start talking again, can’t stop.
“I get why you don’t want her to know before the wedding. But you two seem pretty close. So I wondered if you would tell her eventually, about what happened.”
I watch as she hugs her selected outfit to her stomach. “We’re not as close as we used to be,” she says after a moment.
So that’s a no.
I do my best to keep my expression neutral, to not let my disappointment show. I nod and start loading our dishes and napkins onto the room service tray, accepting her answer without further comment.
“I haven’t been a very good sister lately,” she adds after a moment.
When I look up, she’s got her gaze fixed on the bundle of clothes in her arms. “How so?”
“I guess I’ve prioritized work. To the point I’ve become a bit flaky with everything else.” She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. “After leaving Exeter I felt like I had something to prove. Both professionally and personally.”
Her eyes meet mine then, piercing. Gauging. Like she’s making sure I understand without her having to mention his name. It wouldn’t be the first time we talked about Griffin today, but circumstances have changed. Right now, his name’s like Beetlejuice. Nothing good can come from saying it out loud.
“Understandable,” I say softly.
“I’ve had a few setbacks recently,” she continues, and I wince as I think of Maya.
I maintain I didn’t do anything wrong by signing her, but I know it was a huge blow to Eleanor’s roster.
“But I’ve sort of kept up a front with my friends and family.
Things have been tight for my mom and sister, so I’ve been helping out with wedding expenses.
” Her maxed-out credit cards come to mind, and I start to get the full picture.
Start to see how determined Eleanor is to maintain the image of success she’s cultivated.
She seems to struggle with what to say next.
Or maybe with how much she wants to tell me.
“I just… don’t want them to know how badly I’m fucking everything up. ”
Eleanor’s brow is furrowed, and I shuffle around the bed to stand right in front of her. “Takes two to make a mistake like this one. This isn’t all on you, you know?”
A small smile tugs at her mouth. “I do know. But, regrettably, I’ve discovered blaming you doesn’t actually make me feel better. Besides, I’ve been screwing up since well before this trip.”
Eleanor is her own toughest critic, and that’s something I can relate to. But it kills me to hear her beat herself up like this. I tuck a few hairs that have gone rogue behind her ear. “It can’t be all that bad, can it?”
She bites her lip, holding my gaze with shrewd eyes like she’s reading an answer off my face to some question she didn’t even ask. Then she sucks in a breath and straightens her posture.
“I’m going to tell you something,” she says, “but first I need you to make me a promise.”
I blink and stuff my hands into my pockets. “All right. What is it?”
“Promise you won’t do that thing men do where you try to fix it. Just listen, okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I agree immediately. I can listen.
She sits back down on the edge of the bed. “A couple months ago, I had a performance review. Josie told me I needed to make some changes by the end of the quarter or she’d have to let me go.”
“What kinds of changes?” I ask, already tense at the implication that she could be fired.
“She said I needed to prove I was a team player,” Eleanor says, and I get the sense she’s barely suppressing an eye roll.
“My financial outlook was a big part of it. I went over budget last quarter, and my travel expenses were too high.… One of the sticking points was that I’d gone around Josie to court a band with my own money—”
“Wait, what? You spent your own money trying to sign a band?”
Eleanor crosses her arms. “Yes.”
I clamp my mouth shut. She’s made it very clear she doesn’t want my commentary.
Neither of us speaks for a moment, until Eleanor tips her head back and sighs. “I know, okay? I know it was a terrible idea. I figured it would pay for itself, and then it… didn’t. But this is how I was trained. Go hard after the acts you want, and don’t take no for an answer.”
“From what I’ve heard, that doesn’t seem like Blue Sky’s typical approach,” I say carefully.
“Yeah. It’s not.”
Which means she learned it from someone else. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out who. And again, it strikes me how much I can relate. Billy trained me up in much the same way. Men like him and Griffin have gotten by on bluster and bullshit for years.
“Anyway,” Eleanor goes on. “That’s why I’ve been going after Dempsey so hard. It’s my last chance to turn things around. Josie is expecting me to call her with an update, and I’ve been putting it off because at this point, I have nothing good to report.”