Chapter 38 #2
"Elliot recommended two of the titles. Apparently, these are my mother's favorites—the ones she makes him read out loud to her. The nasty ones," he adds, shaking his head in mock disapproval.
I burst out laughing. "Your mom has excellent taste. I was actually supposed to see one of these authors at the conference I missed."
"I know. That was Drake’s find. He even tracked down her schedule and saw she’ll be at another romance convention in Atlanta later this year. He said he's happy to foot the bill for the full VIP experience."
My heart stutters. I don't miss the implication—he’s talking about a future where I’m still here, and he’s still there.
I’m still admiring the delicate arrangement of petals and paper when Eli hooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face up until I’m forced to meet his gaze.
"If that's what you want, Max," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.
I shrug, my pulse hammering against my ribs, knowing he isn't just talking about a ticket to a conference.
He takes the bouquet and places it on the conference table and kisses me one more time. “Walk with me, Mama. I've missed you.”
Not a question. Not an order. An invitation that assumes I’ll say yes.
And because I’ve missed him too, I grab my coat.
As we step out of the conference room, the chatter hits us first—the curious pauses and lingering looks from every direction. People slow their pace as we pass.
Right in the middle of the lobby, Eli closes his hand around mine. His grip is solid and possessive, familiar enough to make my chest ache.
Just like last week.
It feels insane how quickly my body remembers him.
How easily I want to lean in and tell him everything.
That I haven’t slept right since I last saw him.
That my peace stayed in Canada even though my body boarded the plane home.
That ten years of walls cracked open in five days, and I finally said the words out loud to Timantha because I couldn’t keep them contained anymore.
I want to tell him I fell in love with him on that mountain in his den.
The words press against my teeth, desperate to be released—but I don’t know why he’s here. So I keep quiet.
We walk instead. Down the block. Side by side. Passing the familiar streets of Cinnamon Grove while the city moves around us. It’s such a contrast to the quiet we’re carrying between us now.
It feels like everything important is hovering just beneath the surface, waiting for one of us to reach in first.
We end up at HollyDates without really deciding to.
It’s the place Timantha and I hang out when we’re not at the Cinnamon Grove Grind for book club. Mostly because the owner, Holly, pours rum into her lattes like she’s doing the Lord’s work.
When Eli and I sit down at the corner booth, the conversation drifts exactly where it’s supposed to. The pitch, the win, and the way people are still talking about my contribution like I pulled off a magic trick. He tells me how impressed the room was and how seamless the whole thing felt.
I nod. I smile when it’s expected.
But none of it lands the way it should. What he isn’t saying is louder than everything he is. He isn't talking about the hospital, the way he shut down, the way it felt like he didn’t want me anywhere near his vulnerability.
The ache in my chest has nothing to do with business. It’s tied to the silence he’s carefully maintaining—the very thing that made me feel like leaving Canada was my only option.
I’ve always hated the miscommunication trope. I refuse to be the woman who doesn’t say the obvious thing. That’s not who I am, and I’m seconds away from kicking him in the kneecap under the table if he doesn't say something that lets me know where his head really is.
Yet, despite the tension, we keep talking. One drink turns into two, and our chairs gradually pull closer, even as the elephant in the room remains unaddressed.
“My mom’s okay,” he says eventually. “And Elliot and I…we talked. Really talked.” He pauses, weighing it. “It wasn’t some magical moment where we hugged it out. But it was honest.”
I nod, letting that settle. I am happy for him.
“I don’t think I’m at that same place with my sister,” I admit. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
He doesn’t try to fix it. Doesn’t rush me toward forgiveness or growth. He just listens. Like he always does. But I can tell he’s holding something back, carrying it carefully.
“And I’m sorry about the hospital,” he says.
About fucking time.
I don’t say it. Instead, I reach across the table and take his hand. “Thank you.”
I never say, that’s okay, when someone hurts me. I let the weight of their hurt sit with them instead of trying to ease it. It’s how my mom raised me.
He exhales. “I just—” He clears his throat. “I can admit there was some unresolved shit I needed to face before I could let you see me. When things fall apart.”
“I understand,” I say softly.
“Now,” he adds, almost defensively, “I haven’t unpacked all of this in therapy yet, so it could be something else entirely.”
I smile. “Something like what?”
He shrugs, then offers a slow, honest smile.
“Something like…I wasn’t ready for you to see me like that,” he says, his voice gaining a sudden, steady firmness.
“Because I wasn’t ready to face how many of my own rules I’d broken by letting you that close, that quickly.
I knew I’d fall in love with you. I just didn’t realize it would be this kind of love. ”
I glance around, half-expecting someone to be staring, to have overheard something this big.
When I don’t respond to his declaration immediately, his thumb shifts against my hand. “How do you feel about that?”
A tear threatens. Damn hormones. Damn him.
“Fine. I broke the fucking rules. I love you too, Bear,” I say.
He leans in like he’s about to seal it with a kiss, and my phone buzzes between us.
The screen swims for a second, reminding me I am absolutely tipsy at two in the afternoon. I squint, then laugh when I see my mom’s text telling me she called the office and they said I’d left early.
I glance up at Eli. He’s watching me, brows drawn together, trying to read whatever’s happening behind my smile.
“So,” I say, breath a little uneven, “do you maybe want to come home with me? Meet my mom?”
Both brows shoot up. “Wow. I get to meet Mom, huh?”
I stand, grabbing my coat before I can overthink it. “Come on, Bear. I want to introduce my mom to the man who she says captured my coochie in Canada.”