12. Eliana
Eliana
My entire body ached when I woke up.
For a moment, I lay there perfectly still, eyes closed, trying to piece together the remnants of last night.
I had expected an ordinary night with Adrian, perhaps a quiet dinner, a few stolen kisses, maybe some lingering touches before we finally went to sleep.
I certainly hadn't expected the night to become so passionate.
A warmth crept into my cheeks as fragments of memory returned, each one making me want to hide beneath the covers and smile at the same time.
Whatever expectations I'd had for our first night together, reality had surpassed every one of them.
And now, judging by the pleasant ache running through me, my body had no intention of letting me forget it anytime soon.
I turned my head and found Adrian already awake, lying on his side and watching me quietly. He was shirtless, his bare shoulders relaxed against the pillows, his dark hair slightly tousled from sleep. The sight made warmth creep into my cheeks all over again.
A sleepy smile pulled at my lips. “Did you even sleep?”
He reached over and brushed a strand of hair away from my face before kissing my forehead. “I've spent so long wondering what it would feel like to have you in my arms,” he whispered. “How could I sleep when I finally have you beside me?”
His fingers lingered against my cheek. “I don't want to waste a single moment. I want to remember everything.”
His smile was gentle, but it faded when he looked at me. His gaze slipped past my shoulder and stayed there, fixed on nothing, before he seemed to catch himself and look back. Something about the change unsettled me. For a moment, he had looked unbearably sad.
I let my gaze wander over him, partly because I was still trying to get used to waking up beside him and partly because I couldn't seem to help myself. That's when I noticed the tattoo on his left forearm.
I reached for his wrist and gently turned his arm toward the morning light.
Two lines of poetry were inked against his skin.
But we loved with a love that was more than love?—
I and my Annabel Lee?—
My eyes widened. “Annabel Lee?”
Adrian glanced at the tattoo before looking back at me with a quiet smile. “Yes, by Edgar Allan Poe. My favorite.“
“Seriously?” I laughed softly. “It's one of my favorites too.”
I traced the words lightly with my fingertip, careful not to press too hard. “I never knew you liked poetry this much.”
“There are a lot of things you don't know about me.” There was a teasing note in his voice, but something about the tattoo made me curious.
“What made you get this?”
He glanced down at the words, a knowing smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Someone special in my life once loved this poem,” he said. “I wanted to keep a piece of that memory with me.”
My smile faded. “Someone special?”
He looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Someone who mattered.”
I lowered my eyes to the tattoo again. For some reason, the first name that came to mind was Ana.
I didn't know why it bothered me. Adrian had never told me she was important to him, and he certainly hadn't said the tattoo was about her.
Still, the thought of another woman having left something permanent on the man lying beside me made the warmth between us dim slightly.
I withdrew my hand. Adrian noticed immediately. His fingers closed gently around mine. “Don't.”
I looked at him.
“Don't let your imagination hurt you before I've even told you the truth,” he said quietly.
I searched his face, but he only gave me that same enigmatic smile. “When you're ready,” he added, “I'll tell you the story.”
I nodded, though a small question remained lodged in the back of my mind. Whoever that woman was, she had once meant enough to Adrian to become a permanent part of him. And I wasn't sure why the thought of a dead woman bothered me so much.
I smiled, trying to push the feeling aside. “You really know how to make a girl feel spoiled.”
His smile returned. But for some reason, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he wasn't telling me.
By afternoon, Adrian dropped me off, and I headed straight to Mrs. Rodriguez's house to pick up Cookie.
She welcomed me with the familiar warmth, and I thanked her repeatedly for taking care of him far longer than I'd originally planned.
Cookie seemed perfectly content to see me, although he made his displeasure at being separated from Mrs. Rodriguez very clear with a squeak.
When I reached my house, the afternoon had begun to fade. I stopped when I saw my father sitting on the staircase. He looked older than I remembered, his coat folded beside him and his hands resting loosely between his knees. The sight of him waiting there caught me completely off guard.
“Dad?”
He looked up, and his tired face immediately broke into a smile. “Surprise.”
I hurried over and hugged him, careful not to let go of Cookie, who was perched comfortably on my hand. Dad pulled back and looked at the bird.
“Well, hello, Cookie,” he said warmly. “Still keeping my daughter company?”
Cookie tilted his head before chirping at him.
Dad laughed. “Good to know you haven't forgotten me.”
I smiled and adjusted Cookie gently on my hand. “He remembers everyone who gives him attention.”
“You mean he's just like his owner.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don't start.”
He chuckled, and I helped him gather his coat. “What are you doing here?”
“I had some business in the city. I finished earlier than expected, so I thought I'd come see my daughter.”
“You could've called me.”
“And ruin the surprise?” He patted my shoulder, then nodded toward the house. “Come on. Let's get inside.”
He stayed for dinner, and somehow we ended up cooking together. Dad insisted he still remembered all of Mom's recipes, despite forgetting where I'd put half the ingredients.
“You've changed the kitchen,” he complained, opening the wrong cabinet for the third time.
“I've lived here for years.”
“And yet your kitchen makes no sense.”
I pouted. “It's my kitchen.”
“That's what worries me. How do you even find the right items?”
I laughed as I handed him the bowl he needed. “Just admit you need my help.”
“That I can't deny, sweetheart,” he said laughing.
After dinner, Dad brought out the old photo albums. We settled together on the couch, turning the pages slowly.
I smiled at a picture of Mom standing behind the restaurant counter, her hair pulled into a messy bun and flour dusted across one cheek.
“She always looked so happy there,” I whispered.
“She was.”
I looked at him. “Do you remember the first day she opened it?”
His smile grew faint. “She was terrified.”
“Mom? Terrified?”
“She spent three hours rearranging the tables because she thought customers wouldn't like the first arrangement.”
I laughed. “That sounds like her.”
I smiled, turning another page.
There were pictures of Mom with Dad, Mom with me, and the three of us together in front of the restaurant. I touched the edge of one photograph with my fingertip.
“I wish I remembered more.”
“You remember enough,” Dad said quietly. “And you carry more of her than you realize.”
I looked at him. “How?”
He smiled sadly. “You have her stubbornness.”
“That's not a compliment.”
“It is when I say it.”
I laughed again, but the sound faded when I reached another photograph of the restaurant.
Dad stared at it for a long moment. “I couldn't protect the last piece of her,” he said, his voice breaking.
I closed the album and took his hand. “You didn't fail, Dad.”
He looked down at our joined hands. “I should've done more.”
“You did everything you could.”
“Maybe it wasn't enough.”
“It was enough for her.” I squeezed his hand. “And it was enough for me.”
His eyes glistened, and I gave him a small smile. “My next book is going to change everything. I'll buy Mom's restaurant back. I promise.”
He studied my face for several seconds before letting out a quiet breath. “I believe in you.”
When he finally stood to leave, he hugged me tightly. “Just don't turn this into another reason to punish yourself, Eli. I'm still trying to get the restaurant back. You don't have to carry that responsibility alone.”
“I know.”
“Then take care of yourself. Write your book because you love writing it. Not because you think you have to save everyone.”
I nodded. “I promise.”
He kissed my forehead before leaving, and I watched him walk toward his car.
I won't let Dad down. No matter what, I'll bring back Mom's dream restaurant.
* * *
Later that night I was working on my manuscript when suddenly my phone rang.
Ethan.
I hesitated before answering, but something in my stomach told me this wasn't going to be a casual call.
“I got some bad news,” he said, right after I picked up.
“Is everything ok?” I sat on the edge of my bed, feeling slightly anxious at his tone.
He told me he'd looked into Adrian's file and discovered that he had once been considered a suspect in the accident involving his ex. According to Ethan, the case had never made complete sense. Even stranger, almost every piece of information connected to the woman seemed to have disappeared.
Her records were incomplete. Her history was nearly impossible to trace. It was as if she'd never existed.
I frowned. “That doesn't prove Adrian did anything.”
“I'm not saying it proves he did. I'm saying you don't know enough to trust him.”
“I know him.”
“You think you do.” The sharpness in his voice irritated me.
“Ethan, you really need to stop worrying about my relationship.”
“I'm serious, Eliana.”
“So am I.”
“You're defending him without even knowing what you're defending.”
“And you're accusing him without knowing the whole story.”
Silence followed. I could hear Ethan breathing on the other end, clearly trying to restrain his frustration. Before he could answer, a soft tapping came from my bedroom window.
Click.