Chapter 4
Dilynne
Time for Some Tough Love
Three Months After the Wedding
Standing on the front porch of Elliot’s house, I groan when I hear angry music blaring from inside. Through the window, I see him pacing his living room with a bottle in his hand. Jack Daniels, if I had to guess.
It’s been three months since Tori walked out on their wedding, and Elliot doesn’t seem to be getting any better. His drinking has only gotten worse, and his surly attitude is pissing me off more than usual.
It’s time for some tough love. Heavy on the tough—because Elliot and love don’t belong in the same sentence.
I pound on the door, hoping it will cut through the screaming rock music, but no such luck. After two more attempts, I twist the doorknob and find it unlocked, so I step inside.
Elliot is standing with his back to me, tipping the bottle up to his mouth.
“If you don’t turn that shit down, someone is going to call the sheriff and you’ll have to deal with Rhonan instead of me!” I shout over the music.
Elliot twists around slowly, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red, glaring at me when his gaze meets mine. “What the fuck do you want?”
I hold up the bags of food from Blossom Brews. “Nice to see you too.”
He takes another swig of booze and then moves to the stereo, turning the volume down low enough that my ears don’t ring anymore. “I thought I told you to stop with the food deliveries.”
Shrugging, I move toward his kitchen island to deposit the bags onto the marble counter tops. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He takes a few steps toward me, his glare still icy. “I’m serious, Dilynne. You’re starting to act like a stalker.”
“Ha. You fucking wish.”
“No, I really fucking don’t. What I wish is for you to just leave me the fuck alone.”
I shake my head. “Just eat, Elliot. You need something to soak up all that alcohol.”
He just scoffs.
When I lift my eyes to find him staring at me, I snap. Marching over to him, I grab the bottle from his hand—Jack Daniels, it is—and head toward the kitchen sink, pouring the amber liquid down the drain.
Elliot rushes over to me, but I push him away. “What the fuck are you doing, woman?”
“Saving your liver from cirrhosis.”
“Fucking hell, Dilynne!” He tries to take the bottle from my hand, but I’m able to keep him at arm’s length. “Stop wasting my booze!”
Once the final drop is gone, I set the empty bottle in the sink and turn to face him with my hands on my hips and determination in my veins. “You’re wasting your life by drinking it away!”
He tosses his hands in the air. “Why the fuck do you care what I’m doing? You hate me, remember?”
“On most days, yeah…I do. But not right now, Elliot. Not when you’re hurting.” The admission surprises even me because Elliot hasn’t been afraid to hurt my feelings in the past.
Something in his expression shifts before it hardens again.
He blinks a few times before he speaks. “What the hell do you know about hurting?”
I huff out a laugh. “You’re not the only person who’s had their heart broken and thought alcohol could fix it. Actually, I preferred ice cream to booze, now that I think about it,” I say, tapping my chin.
“Who are you talking about?”
“Vinnie,” I say, hating the way his name tastes coming out of my mouth.
It’s been almost a year since I’ve uttered that name.
Just thinking about him still pulls me under dark clouds some days.
But I’ve come a long way since our breakup, so I know there is light after the storm—which is what Elliot needs help finding.
“Is that the guy you dated a few years ago?” he asks through a hiccup.
“Yes, and our breakup was awful, but no amount of alcohol or ice cream made the pain go away, Elliot.” I pull out a box from the bag of food and pop the lid, the smell of deep-fried goodness wafting between us. “Now fucking eat something.”
He keeps his eyes on mine as he shoves an onion ring into his mouth. “I don’t get it, Dilynne. You fucking hated Tori. Hell, I thought you’d be happy she left me.”
“You’re right. She was one of my least favorite people on the planet. But this isn’t about her. It’s about you. You can’t let her destroy you. If you do that, she wins.”
“Why does it matter to you?”
“If you think I don’t care about you on some level after all these years, then you’re more of an idiot than I give you credit for.”
“Back to insulting me already?”
“When you deserve it, yes.” Shaking my head, I continue, “But no one deserves to be betrayed like that, Elliot—not even you. That’s why I’m here, okay?”
He drags a hand through his hair. “You’re so fucking confusing.”
“I do what I can,” I say as I reach for an onion ring and pop it into my mouth, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts before I open up to him more than he deserves. “Now, if you’d let me, I’d like to talk to you about something.”
His brows draw together in confusion as I motion him toward the living room.
He carries the box of onion rings with him to the couch before plopping down on the cushions.
I take a seat in the chair to his right.
Sighing, I prepare my speech I came up with on the way here.
“I think it’s time you talk to someone.”
“Like who?”
“A therapist.”
He eyes me wearily. “Have you been talking to Fletcher?”
“No, but glad to know I’m not the only one that’s giving you this advice.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need a fucking shrink, Dilynne. And I sure as fuck don’t need advice from you.”
I hold my hands up in the air. “I get it, trust me. But speaking from experience, a therapist is going to help you move past this more than anyone else can. They’ll help you process what happened and what went wrong so you won’t repeat your mistakes, even though you’re not the one to blame for what happened, Elliot. ”
Blowing out a breath, I lean back in my chair, debating what to say next. Elliot and I don’t talk about feelings. But right now, I just want him to know he’s not alone.
The funny thing is, I can’t explain why this still matters to me so much. I started this routine of checking on him three months ago because Laney suggested it, but now, it’s become something I can’t ignore.
“Trust me, the last thing I want is another relationship,” Elliot mutters.
“You might feel that way right now, but who knows what the future holds.”
“The future holds more booze, that’s what I know.”
I glare at him. “Cut the shit, Elliot. You know drinking yourself stupid isn’t a long-term solution.”
“Good thing I don’t care about what you think of me or how I choose to live my life. I’m a grown man, remember?”
We stare at each other as I lean forward and brace my elbows on my thighs. “You know what? You’re right. Don’t worry about what I think, but what about the boys? What about your parents? Do you care what they think?”
He moves his eyes away from mine. “I’ve been getting enough shit from all of them. I don’t need you to add to it.”
I soften my voice. “They’re concerned, Elliot, and with good reason. What you’re doing isn’t healthy. And it isn’t you.”
He pushes a hand through his hair as tears fill his eyes, avoiding my gaze. “I’m fucking miserable, Dil. I hate my job right now, my fucking dad is…” He trails off, shaking his head. “And seeing Fletcher and Henley so happy now is just making it worse.”
My brother is dealing with his own demons at the moment while falling for his nanny, but I have faith that he can overcome the issues he’s been pushing down for years. Elodie is worth it, and every woman deserves a man who will fight to be better for her.
One day I hope to find that too—although I definitely didn’t feel that way after my breakup.
“I know you’re miserable, Elliot. But unfortunately, you’re the only one who can fix that.
” I study him as he stares into the box of onion rings because I remember feeling powerless too at one point, but this isn’t about me.
It’s about him. So I decide to shift to the second part of my plan.
“Have you ever seen the movie Forgetting Sarah Marshall?”
His brows draw together in confusion. “No…”
“Really?” Launching myself from my chair, I move toward my purse and take out the DVD, grateful that Elliot still has a player for this outdated technology. “Then we need to fix that.” I head toward his TV and turn on the system, programming the movie and then pressing play.
“Dilynne…”
“If you’re the type of person that talks during movies, Elliot, we’re going to have a serious problem.”
He sighs but takes my warning to heart. And then we sit there in silence, watching the movie until he passes out with the box of onion rings still on his lap.