44. Elliott
FORTY-FOUR
Elliott
I step up to Jillian’s door, smoothing a hand over my shirt, not because it’s wrinkled but because my nerves have a way of creeping in at the most inconvenient times. I’m not sure why I’m so keyed up—it’s not like this is my first date ever. But with Jillian? It feels different. Bigger.
I press the doorbell and hear footsteps inside, followed by a cheerful voice. “I’ll get it!”
The door swings open, and I find myself face-to-face with a woman who could be a body double for Halle Berry. “You must be Elliott. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“And you must be Sheila. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”
She steps back. “Come on up. She’s ready.”
Before I can respond, Jillian appears at the top of the stairs. Her frame bathed in light; she looks ethereal.
I take the steps two at a time and when I finally get into her home, the sight of her freezes me in place.
She’s breathtaking.
I’ve never seen her like this. The blue dress she’s wearing hugs her figure in all the right ways, the hem brushing mid-thigh, her legs bare and endless. Her hair, normally tied back in a ponytail, is styled with loose curls that fall about her shoulders, left bare by the thin straps of the dress. And her eyes—God, they seem even brighter, more vibrant, framed by whatever subtle makeup she’s wearing.
My chest tightens, my breath stalling as I take her in. I’ve seen her dozens of times before, in casual clothes, messy hair, no makeup—and each time, I thought she was beautiful. But this? This is a whole new level.
“You look beautiful, Jillian.”
“Thank you.” Her cheeks go pink as she gestures to her friend. “Sheila, this is Elliott.” Was that a warning look she threw at Sheila? I hold back a laugh.
Jamie’s head pops up from behind the couch.
“Hey, buddy,” I say, raising my hands to sign. How are you?
His eyes brighten as he signs back slowly, his movements careful as if he wants to make sure I understand. This kid is so smart.
“Ready?” she asks me as if eager to escape before her friend says something.
“Whenever you are.”
She gives Jamie a tight hug, whispering instructions about candy and listening to Sheila. He frowns, signs two candies, and she relents with a laugh. “Okay, two candies. But save the rest for tomorrow.”
After their goodbyes, Jillian joins me at the door, grabbing her purse. As we step outside, I instinctively reach for her hand. Her fingers slip into mine with ease, and the warmth of her touch settles something inside me, quieting the lingering nerves and the flutters in my stomach. She’s already turning my world upside down, and she has no idea.
“I thought we could walk? My place is a few minutes away.”
Jillian’s silhouette against the fading evening light hides her expression in the shadows. “That’s a lovely idea. It’s a perfect night for a walk.”
From the first time I laid eyes on her, Jillian’s grace caught me off guard. She’s like a quiet melody, playing softly in the background, trying her best not to call attention to herself. But once you stop to listen, you find out how beautiful she is.
The walk to my apartment is a series of stolen glances and smiles. I’m dreading knowing what I have to do. She’s so lovely and I’m afraid to fuck this up. Every step closer to my home is an unnerving reminder of what’s at stake.
A ten-minute walk and an elevator ride to the fifth floor later, we enter my place. Her gaze sweeps across the open space. Golden light coming through the floor-to-ceiling windows casts a gentle glow on the modern, clean-lined furnishings. Jillian walks around the living room. A thick area rug covers most of the hardwood floors and silences her steps. Her fingers trace the back of a black leather sofa facing the marble fireplace. Plants and abstract art add splashes of color to the otherwise neutral palette of gray, white, and black.
“This is an interesting combination of . . . modern and cozy.”
“Cozy?” I never pictured my home as cozy. Modern, yes. Masculine for sure. But never cozy. I’m not one for knickknacks and unnecessary decorations .
“Definitely cozy.” Jillian continues her perusal, inspecting the built-in shelves that surround the gigantic flatscreen TV. Her fingers brush over the spines of books neatly arranged on the shelves. Organized by the author’s last name in alphabetical order. She stops to look at the few framed pictures I have. Most of them of my niece and my sisters. A couple of me and Grace. She makes her way to a love seat and runs her fingers over the soft throw blanket and then stops in front of the French doors. “Wow.”
“I got this place because of the view.” I open the doors to the balcony, and the sounds of the city invade the previously quiet space. The hum of cars, sirens in the distance, and voices carry in the wind. Below us, the small park is a patchwork of shadows and streetlamp-lit paths.
“Beautiful.” She leans against the chest-high railing and I want to pull her back even though I know the balcony is perfectly safe and she’s at no risk of falling.
I step next to Jillian. The breeze catches her hair and blows it toward me. Her sweet and clean scent washes over me.
“Yes, you are.” The words escape unbidden.
She glances up, her cheeks turning pink. Then she smiles, and my heart tightens with hope and fear that she won’t have any more smiles for me after I tell her what I’ve been hiding all along.
We go back inside and I pace the length of my kitchen, a sleek expanse of marble and stainless steel that is now the stage for my confession.
Jillian perches on one of the bar stools, her legs crossed. She watches me with a frown like she’s aware of the turmoil churning inside me.
The air between us is thick with something unspoken. There’s a boulder on my chest, which makes it hard to breathe. I know I can’t keep this from her any longer. Every moment I’ve spent with Jillian has made the truth harder to carry, but to keep hiding it is a betrayal far worse than what I’m about to confess.
I walk behind the counter, keeping it between us. “Jillian...” My voice is low and uneven.
Her eyes narrow on me, her expression soft but cautious.
I exhale. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“What’s wrong?”
My hands fist on the granite top. “It’s about the building. Your shop.”
Her shoulders stiffen. There’s a shift in her demeanor—the guarded look she used when we first met is back and it breaks me. “What about it?”
I take a breath, trying to steady myself, but it doesn’t help. The words are like jagged glass in my throat. “It’s about the firm trying to buy your building.”
She blinks, her brow furrowing. “How do you know about that? I’ve never told you.”
Leaning on the counter, I lace my fingers together. “It’s my firm. My father is pushing for the sale.”
Her breath catches, but her gaze on me is unflinching.
My stomach twists. Here it is. No turning back. “My father tasked me with convincing the tenant to leave. To convince you to leave. I didn’t know it was you—not at first.”
She leans away from me as if I’ve physically struck her. “You knew? You knew and didn’t say anything?”
“Not at first.” The words rush out as if their speed could undo the damage. “I wanted to tell you. I didn’t know how?—”
“How long?” Her voice cuts through me, sharp and unyielding. “How long did you know, Elliott?”
I swallow. “A little over three weeks.”
“You knew before you took me and Jamie to meet Grace. You knew before we left, and you kept me in the dark about it.” She doesn’t yell, she doesn’t curse. Her voice is even toned and polite, and it’s a thousand times worse.
“I was going to tell you. I just—I didn’t want to ruin what we were building.” I sound pathetic and we both know it.
She stands abruptly, crossing her arms over her chest. “So you decided lying to me was a better option? Keeping this from me while we—while I—” She stops, her voice breaking. She turns her back to me.
This is it. She’s going to walk out and she’ll never forgive me. I take a step toward her.
She turns back to me, her face blank. “You know how much the flower shop and the apartment mean to me. How hard I’ve fought to survive, to make it a home for Jamie. And you’re working with the people trying to take it away from me?”
“I’m sorry. I know I should have told you sooner. I was a coward.”
She looks right through me. “Do you know how many sleepless nights I’ve had? Wondering if I’d lose my home? Wondering what would happen to me and Jamie if I didn’t have the shop?”
My stomach drops. The detachment, the distance, the cold aloofness cut deeper than anger and insults would .
“I wasn’t working with them.” I take a step closer. “And I’m not working with them now. I’ve been on your side even before I knew it was you. I hated the idea of forcing the sale.”
Jillian shakes her head. “And that’s supposed to make it better? You still kept it from me.”
“I didn’t want this job. I tried to refuse, but my father wouldn’t allow it.”
“You’re not a child, Elliott. At some point, you have to decide who and what you want to align yourself with. There isn’t enough room in this relationship for both me and your father.”
She called me on it. Told me to grow a pair and make a decision.
“You, I choose you.”
She sighs, her shoulders dropping as the air leaves her body, her gaze somewhere on the floor. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. This is not an ultimatum. I can’t make you choose between me and your family. Or between me and your job.” Her gaze finds me. “It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair of me to even ask.”
I step closer until I’m within touching distance. “You have every right to ask me to make a decision about something that affects you and your livelihood. I choose you. Over and over again. But”—I inch closer, fisting my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her—“as much as I want to quit, I can’t. Not until I’m thirty-five and—” I don’t want to bring money and the trust into this conversation. It feels like throwing my wealth into her face when she’s been struggling to support herself and Jamie all on her own. “It’s complicated.”
Her expression softens. “I won’t ask you why. It’s been clear to me you don’t like working with your father, but you’re not free to walk away. I trust that you’ll tell me when the time is right. But the question remains. What’s next?”
Lightness flutters in my chest, but I’m afraid to hope. Does this mean she forgives me?
“I hate myself for being an unwilling part of the pain my firm caused you. I can’t undo what my father’s done. I can’t change what they put you through. But I can promise you this—I’m not on their side. I’m on yours.”
She faces me. Her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes are sad now, but she’s not shedding any tears over my betrayal. “How do I know that? How can I trust you after this?”
“Because I lo—care about you.” The words tumble out before I can think to stop them. Her eyes widen, and I step closer, desperate now. “I care about you, Jillian. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone before. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to you that I’m on your side. If that means walking away from my father, my job, everything, then I’ll do it. Just—just don’t shut me out.”
She stares at me, her lips trembling, her eyes searching mine for something. For what, I don’t know. But then, slowly, she gets closer and places a hand on my chest.
“I care about you, Elliott.” Her voice is like a balm for my aching heart. “And I believe you. I believe that you’re not like your father. But this”—she gestures between us—“if this is to work, there can be no more secrets. No more lies.”
“Never again. I want a chance to make it right. To earn back your trust.” For a moment, we stand there, the tension between us still heavy but no longer suffocating.
Her hand drops from my chest. “I’m not doing this for you.” Her gaze is locked on mine. “I’m doing it for me. For Jamie. Because I want to move forward. With you.”
The rush of relief nearly knocks me off my feet. “I won’t let you down. I’ll stand with you.”
She looks up at me, her eyes searching mine, and though the hurt is still there, there’s something else too—hope. And for now, that’s enough.
“Even if standing with me means going against your father and your family?”
“Not against my family, just my father.”
“It could cost you your job.”
“There are other jobs. But only one of you.”