Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
“ Do not let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace .”
~Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility
B y the time the impromptu party broke up, it was after midnight. Noah escorted Willa to the Little Red Barn, and Clayton had excused himself to get ready for bed. Elle showed Viet to the guest room.
“I still can’t believe you’re here,”she sighed, lounging on the bed with Viet.
“I think it’s more unbelievable that you are here,” Viet said as he stroked between Fitz’s ears.
“You were the one to convince me to come back home.”
“I’m not talking about here in Perry. I’m talking about you shacking up with Clayton.”
“I’m not shacking up.”
Viet made a “whatever” face.
Elle mumbled, “I’m just staying here.”
“I believe that’s the definition of shacking up.” Viet’s teasing smile lit up the dim room.
“What do you think of Clayton?”
“I like him.”
“I do too.”
“I think you more than like him.” He lifted his brow as he looked at her.
Elle’s eyes turned away from Viet’s perceptive stare, looking on to the framed photo of Letchworth hanging above the dresser. The canopy of vibrant green trees hanging over the weathered wooden bridge, a gentle stream dotted with fallen leaves below. It was easier to focus on that than answering her friend’s assessing stare.
“Have you told him?”
The words “I love him” didn’t need to slip from her lips. He read it in her face and the shift of her gaze that she hadn’t told Clayton, yet. God, he knew her so well.
“Elle.” His tone was reproachful.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
Shifting away from Viet, her eyes flicked to the creamy white wall on the other side of the room. How easy it was for him to look the picture of comfort as he quietly pushed her into discomfort. Viet was nothing but patient with her, and with most people, but the man could push when needed. It’s what made him a good attorney and an even better friend. Where Elle would run in waving her sword, Viet strategized. His pushing was never without thought.
Once Elle had stopped returning to Perry, Viet had never nudged, never spoke of nor forced the issue. Never pointed out the holidays, or birthdays, or anniversaries she’d chosen to miss. There’d never been a case made to go back until this summer.
Elle twisted her body toward her friend. “For fourteen years you never pushed me to come back. Why now?”
“Well…” He sat up straighter in the bed. “…first, I think you would have really regretted missing Tobey’s wedding and Pete’s birthday, but especially Tobey’s wedding. For weeks after his graduation from high school and then the Trooper Academy, you had this guilty expression. You texted or called him incessantly and sent him gifts. I’ve had a front row seat to the ‘Elle Davidson Guilt Fest’. You weren’t ready to come back, but you felt awful each time you said no or made an excuse to stay when you should have gone.” He patted her knee. “I didn’t want you to have those regrets anymore. I didn’t want you to have my regrets.” Viet’s voice cracked.
Elle crawled closer, pressing her shoulder to his, reminding him she was there. He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew his regrets as much as he knew hers. His dad died of a heart attack when Viet was fourteen. The first day of summer each year, they would go fishing. That year, Viet had bowed out of the annual tradition so he could go to the mall with his friends. It was no big deal. They could always go the following weekend. Like every teenager, he assumed there was a never-ending supply of time. His dad died the next day, leaving Viet with a profound sense of what if?
“Second…” Viet continued, clearing his throat. “…I think I knew it was time, because I knew you were finally ready.”
“How did you know?” She blinked.
“You seldom talk about Perry. Once Tobey’s wedding invite came, you started reminiscing more about here. I think you’ve spoken more about home in the last six months than in the last six years. We don’t wax lyrically about things we don’t miss.”
“I didn’t wax lyrically!” she guffawed.
“Eleanor Marie Davidson, if I had to hear one more time about how none of the pizza places in Long Beach compare to your sainted Daryl’s, the loveliness of Letchworth in the fall, or your aunt and uncle’s house, I was going to staple your mouth shut.”
“Had I really been talking about home so much?”
“Yes. Willa will confirm. That’s why we ambushed you at happy hour that night.”
She gasped. “I had no idea.”
“It was almost like a nervous tick that you couldn’t help. You’d slip tidbits about Perry in with the most random connections. Like Willa wore this orange blouse to brunch and you went on for ten minutes about how it reminded you of the color of leaves in the fall. Then you started talking about collecting leaves at Letchworth for your grandma. It was then that Willa and I knew you were ready and that you needed to go back.”
“Wow.”
“Well, I am your best friend. So is Willa…but I’m the best of the best.” He smirked. “Elle, we’ve known each other since we were eighteen. I know I have my older sisters, but you’re my real sister. We know each other better than anyone else in this world. You know things about me that even my husband doesn’t know. You knew when to drag me into that jewelry store to finally buy that ring to propose to Ryan. Just like I knew it was time for you to come home, and how I know that you are in love with Clayton.” He looped his arm around her, pulling her close.
“I leave…” Her eyes flicked to the old-fashioned metal alarm clock on the bed stand. It was after one in the morning. It was now Friday. “…tomorrow.”
“You know there are these things called planes where couples can fly to see each other and phones where they can talk to each other.”
Elle elbowed his ribs, annoyed with her friend’s sassy logic.
“Seriously, long distance works. Look at Ryan and me.” Viet gestured to himself.
“It works if somebody moves. His home is here.” Elle motioned around the room. “Mine is there” She pointed out the window.
“I’m pretty sure that window is east-facing and last time I checked, California was west,”he teased.
“I can’t stay here, and he can’t come. Clayton and I talked about it on Sunday. It’s not fair to drag something on that won’t happen, at least not in the way he deserves.” Her voice wobbled but was decisive.
“What about what you deserve?” Viet took her hand, his thumb skating across her knuckles.
“I think it’s late and we’ve both had too much to drink to have this conversation,” Elle said with finality in her tone.
She didn’t want to discuss this, to lay out her defense for her decisions. Not now. There would be time to rehash this over future happy hours with Viet. No doubt he’d bide his time until he pounced on her reasons, dissecting them like a lion with his prey. For the remainder of her time here, she just wanted to exist in her bubble of happiness, surrounded by everyone she loved and not thinking about the day after tomorrow when she’d wake up in her lavender sheets in her condo overlooking the ocean on the other side of the country. Away from Clayton.
“Alright. I’ll let you off the hook tonight but only if you take me to Daryl’s tomorrow for lunch. You’ve talked about it so much in the last six months that I’ve been craving it. Truthfully, it may be the only reason I said yes when Clayton messaged me.” Playful resignation curled his lips up.
“Deal.” Elle kissed Viet’s cheek before scooting off the bed.“Come on, Fitz.”She called to the stocky sleeping pug who made no movement.
“I think he’s staying with me.” A smug expression brightened Viet’s face as he looked down at Fitz curled in a tiny ball beside him.
“Traitor.” She scowled at Fitz’s wrinkled face.
“Aww sorry, Elle, you know everybody likes me best.”
Running water and the buzz of Clayton’s electric toothbrush floated from the attached bathroom as Elle walked into the bedroom. Surveying the room, the bed was already set for them. Two fresh bottles of water sat on the bedstands on their respective sides. On Clayton’s side, his phone was plugged in. A folded red T-shirt sat on the end of the bed. Unfolding it, Elle smiled at the white cursive lettering proclaiming It’s a Puggin’ Good Day with an image of a happy round-belly pug. She knew he had laid it out for her. Despite her array of adorable PJs that she brought with her to Perry, she had taken to wearing one of Clayton’s shirts each night.
Everything was as it was each night, except no Fitz. A tiny sting of jealousy pricked her, that on her second to last time sleeping here, Fitz wouldn’t lay atop her feet. Tomorrow, well actually today, would be her last full day here.
Nope. Nope. Nope. Not going to think about it.
Elle inhaled a steadying breath, allowing it to fill her with thoughts of what remained, rather than what would soon be lost. She was here now and needed to just live in the moment. The bathroom door was cracked open, and she peeked in almost like a voyeur, drinking Clayton in as if the first quenching taste of water after a long run. Readied for bed, he stood at the sink in a pair of red boxer briefs.
God, he’s gorgeous .
Elle’s gaze swept over Clayton’s form. The gray of his eyes pierced her soul even within the mirror’s reflection. Tiny crinkles kissed the edges of his eyes. The cut of his muscles flexed with the slow movement of his arm as he brushed his teeth. The paw print tattoo scampered up his right forearm, telling a story she was privileged to know about a man that chose to forge his own path despite one already being mapped out for him. Clayton’s entire being was served up as a physical representation for the many reasons she loved him. His toned arms strong, caring, and protecting. Seductive lips, kissable, teasing, and sweet, but above all the portal for him to speak all the words that had captured her heart. That broad chest perfect for holding her but even more perfect for holding his kind, thoughtful heart. Those versatile strong hands that made her melt at their touch, wiped away her tears, clasped her hands, caressed her cheeks, and supported her.
I love you so much. Elle stared as the familiar thump-thump of her heart pounded.
“You’re staring at me like I’m the last piece of pizza.” Clayton grinned, setting aside his toothbrush, and then wiping his mouth.
“Sausage.”She licked her lips.
“Is that a euphemism or are you hungry?” He turned and faced her, the muscles in his exposed back reflected in the mirror, giving Elle a full-circle view of his vigorous physique.
“Are you aware of how unbelievably beautiful you are?” Elle whispered. “I mean, look at you.”
“I’d rather look at you.” A devilish glint sparked in his eyes as they roved languidly down her body, as if taking a slow Sunday stroll in the park.
“You like looking, eh?” With a bite of her lower lip, she slipped her sweater off, dropping it to the floor. “I should give you more to look at. You know, keep it interesting.” She unclasped her pink strapless bra, letting it join her sweater. She felt brazen and a little wanton, but she could excuse it. She only had a few more hours with Clayton. A few more hours to touch and be touched.
Desire darkened his eyes, as Elle skated her fingers down her bare torso to the button of her jeans.
“Stop.” His dark eyes bored through her. “You said if I was good, I got to take those off.”
“I did.” Elle’s voice dripped with warm honey.
“Was I good?” He stepped closer. “Or was I bad?” The rumble of his low voice tingled through her.
“You were very good.” She almost purred.
“You know we have a guest.” He cocked his head, his features drawn into a devious expression. “Do you think you can be quiet?”
Biting her lip, she nodded, and gasped as he popped the button of her jeans.