18. Elliot
Chapter eighteen
Elliot
W hat is love, really? Is it just an illusion, spun from fairytales, or is it something that catches us off guard, a force we can’t control? This question from Olivia’s blog lingers in my mind, and I’m starting to believe it might be the latter.
For a long time, I convinced myself that love was nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Every heart-racing moment I’ve felt with Olivia, I’ve chalked up to stress or something easily explained away. But now? I can’t ignore it any longer—I’m falling for Olivia Reed. It’s reckless, it’s unexpected, and it’s happening.
The alarm blares, but I’m already awake—been awake for hours, in fact. Staring at my reflection in the mirror, I see the mess I’ve become: scruffy beard, hair in disarray. I’d much rather stay home, avoid Olivia, because after two unofficial "dates" with her, I’m a breath away from saying something I shouldn’t—something I’m not ready to admit.
Dragging my bare feet across the wooden floor, I stumble back when I notice movement in the kitchen. “Jeez, Mom, you scared me!” I exclaim, grabbing the counter to steady myself and pressing a hand to my chest as if that might make my heart beat slower.
She doesn’t even flinch. Instead, she sets two plates of grilled cheese and bacon on the table like it’s any other morning. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so I let myself in,” she says, shrugging like it’s perfectly normal.
“Come on, Ma, what if I had someone over?” I grumble, flicking on the coffee maker.
She laughs—a knowing laugh, one that says she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “You’re never with anyone, El, at least not in a long time,” she teases, nudging me toward one of the empty chairs.
I start stuffing my face with food, letting my earlier frustration melt away. But then, out of nowhere, she reaches over and strokes my hair, and for a moment, I’m sixteen again—just a boy and his mother trying to stay afloat after her husband left them in the dust.
“I don’t think anyone’s cooked like this for me in a while,” I admit with a smile, leaning into her hand and pressing a soft kiss to her palm.
She smiles too, but there’s a sadness in her eyes. “You know, darling, it doesn’t always have to be like this. You could find someone, someone who makes you happy,” she says softly, her words weighted with meaning.
“No, Ma, please, let’s not do this,” I plead, lifting my half-eaten plate and taking it to the sink.
“You know I’m right, El. You’ve been torturing yourself long enough.”
I slam my fork on the plate, the sound loud and sharp, but she’s not deterred.
“I’ve heard about the Reed girl, son. And I’ve seen the way you look at her.”
I spin around in disbelief. “So you’ve been stalking me? Mom! That’s creepy.”
“It’s not stalking if Aaron willingly gave me the info,” she says unapologetically. I should’ve known. Aaron was the last person I’d trust to keep my business under wraps.
“Whatever ideas you’re having, they’re not happening, Ma. It can’t happen,” I mutter, trying to convince myself as much as her.
She stands, wrapping her arms around me like she’s afraid I might break. “Don’t fight this anymore, El. It breaks my heart to see you suffering like this,” she whispers, her voice trembling.
I pull away, facing her, and stare into those blue eyes that always seem to know me better than I know myself. If only I had as much confidence in myself as she has in me. But I don’t. When your heart gets broken, parts of you stay shattered forever.
Forcing a smile, I say, “I’m fine, Ma. Honestly, I am.”
She studies me for a beat, then her worry lines smooth, replaced by her usual warm smile. She steps back and heads for the door.
“Since you’re fine, I hope you don’t mind that I invited Olivia over for a chat,” she says casually.
“You what?!” I stutter, horror dawning.
Of course, fate would toss gasoline on this fire, as the doorbell rings almost immediately.
Clapping her hands, my mother squeals, “That must be her. Don’t worry, I’m supposed to help Julia with the wedding bouquet, so this has nothing to do with you.” She winks.
But I know better. This is her way of making her point. She opens the door, revealing Olivia, standing there in a black crop top, blue skinny jeans, and knee-high boots, holding a box of doughnuts.
“It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Sharp,” Olivia says, kissing my mother on both cheeks.
“Trust me, darling, I should’ve come earlier when my son was being a little terror,” my mother teases, and I roll my eyes.
“Indeed, he’s pretty annoying,” Olivia says, laughing. “I almost murdered him.” Her whisper is loud enough for me to hear, and they both burst into laughter.
“If you’re going to talk about me, you might as well do it outside of my house,” I groan.
My mother whispers, “I see what you mean, Ollie, so grumpy.”
As I watch them banter, I realize just how much they have in common—witty, annoying, impossible to deal with. Sometimes I wonder if Olivia could’ve been my mother’s daughter in another life.
Olivia steps closer, shoving the box of doughnuts at me. “You should put on a shirt, El. There’s no one to seduce around here,” she says, reminding me I’m still shirtless. Apparently, I wasn’t prepared for the two toughest women in my life to ambush me like this.
“You know what? You and my mom are perfect for each other,” I mutter.
“Great. Should I consider signing some adoption papers too?” Olivia quips back. I roll my eyes.
“I can’t deal with you both right now. Please excuse me,” I grumble, heading back to my bedroom to shower.
Even with the shower running, I can still hear their chatter and laughter. When I return to the kitchen an hour later, dressed in a brown suit and black leather shoes, they look at me like I’ve dropped from another planet.
Olivia’s face shifts to amusement. “Does he always dress like this at home, Mrs. Sharp?”
“Of course not,” I grumble. “I’ve got a work thing outside of town. And for someone who’s supposedly my friend, you sure act otherwise.” She rolls her eyes, grabs her bag from the counter, and heads toward my mother.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Sharp,” she smiles, taking my mother’s hand.
“You know what? Elliot would love to drop you off on his way,” my mother says.
“Would I? What happened to both of you getting flowers together?” I ask, and Olivia looks genuinely confused.
“I just realized I still have a few things to do, so be a gentleman,” my mother says, patting me fondly on the cheek.
Olivia, despite being wise to this trick, goes along with it. When she’s out of earshot, I lean in to whisper to my mother, “Can’t you do without this meddling act, Ma?”
She doesn’t pretend anymore. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” she whispers back. “Look at you two. If you say you don’t see what’s going on, you’re either blind or dumb, and you, my dear, are neither.”
The words catch in my throat, because she’s right. I see it now, as I watch Olivia waiting by the door, her blonde hair in a messy bun, her eyes sparkling with something I’m not ready to admit. But the presence of a flame doesn’t always mean a fire should be lit.
“Just let it go, Ma,” I mumble, turning away.
Olivia must have sensed the tension because her question comes at the worst possible moment. “Julia was supposed to be here. I don’t understand why your mother invited me instead.”
“Yeah, she’s trying to make a point about me letting someone love me.”
“And what’s so wrong with that?” she asks, stopping me cold.
I choose my words carefully, turning to face her. “Let’s just say love doesn’t come easily to men like me.”
She shakes her head, disapproval in her eyes. “You’re lying, El. I know when you lie,” she says, unlocking the car door and sliding inside.
This is the problem—they both act like they know everything: Olivia and my mother. But they don’t. If Olivia knew the truth, she’d understand that I’m scared—scared that loving her might be my greatest weakness.
Not again. I’m never going through that hell again.