Chapter Fourteen
I buzz the security intercom on her building. After a few seconds, I realize what an idiot I am.
Me: I’m outside your building.
Ellie: You pressed the buzzer, didn’t you?
I laugh.
Me: Are you letting me up, or what?
She doesn’t answer. It’s not like I haven’t been in her apartment before. I did help her move the TV up. But this is different. This is a date. Wait, she knows it’s a date, doesn’t she? I mean I didn’t come out and say it was, but she knows… right?
I look around the complex and see a few familiar faces. Ah, man. Maybe she’s afraid someone will see us together and it’ll get back to her boss. Of course she’s been hesitant to go out with me. It could jeopardize her job. I shove a hand into my jeans pocket. I should have waited in the car. I quickly fire off a text to Lloyd’s, canceling the reservation I made.
The door opens and Ellie appears. And… Jesus. Hell yeah she knows this is a date. Those luscious lips are pink and shimmery and totally kissable. Her jeans hug every curve and taper down to the beige wedges that bring her a few inches nearer to my height, though I still pretty much tower over her. A pink blouse that matches her lips is a little transparent, giving a peek to the tight tank top beneath. The twitch in my pants reminds me how badly I want to peek beneath.
She blushes under my perusal.
This woman. She’s strong. Independent. A professional. She has a PhD for cryin’ out loud. Yet when she blushes around me and those freckles appear, she seems so goddamn innocent.
“You look beautiful,” I say and sign.
The redness on her cheeks doesn’t abate. “Thank you.”
She signs something I don’t understand.
I cock my head.
Ellie: You’re not so bad yourself.
I blow on my fingertips and shine them on my shirt collar.
She rolls her eyes.
We walk to my car. I hold the door for her, not losing sight of the fact that she’s the only woman I’ve ever held the door for.
Once I’m inside, I face her. “Change of plans. I was going to take you to Lloyd’s.” I fingerspell the name of the restaurant. “But it’s close to your work, and I don’t want to get you into trouble or make you feel uncomfortable. Mind if we drive over to White Plains for dinner instead? It won’t take that long.”
“Okay,” she signs, then takes out her phone.
Ellie: It’s not against the rules per se, but I agree with keeping work and private life separate. You didn’t tell Maisy where you were going, did you? It might give her the wrong idea.
The wrong idea? As in, Maisy might think I like Ellie? I do—like her. I like her a lot. But I get the worry. She wouldn’t want Maisy to get hurt if this doesn’t work out. My heart squeezes. Maisy isn’t the only one who would get hurt. Damn. I’m not sure I like this feeling. It’s odd. Different for sure. Confusing. But at the same time… warm.
I just shake my head to answer and then start the car.
The ride is silent, but not at all awkward. Which is also different. We share glances and smiles. I have the urge to hold her hand but surmise it’s too soon. Or maybe I’m just afraid she’ll pull away. Wow… what in the ever-loving fuck is wrong with me? I’ve never been so nervous, careful, and chivalrous around a woman. Why her?
In twenty-five minutes, we’re in White Plains. I didn’t make a reservation so I hope we can get into the French restaurant Mom’s always raving about.
After I exit the car and hand my keys to the valet, I hustle around to Ellie’s side. I don’t take her hand, as I’m still unsure what she thinks of all this. I do, however, put a palm on the small of her back as we approach the entrance. She stiffens at my touch, then relaxes. The relief rushing through me is as immediate as it is unexpected.
Inside, the hostess asks, “Name on the reservation?”
“Ah, damn. I don’t have a reservation. Coming here was spontaneous.”
“We have a two-hour wait for walk-ins, sir.”
“Blake Montana?” someone shouts behind me.
I turn to see a tall brunette who looks vaguely familiar. She’s wearing a tight dress and is heavily pregnant.
She walks toward me sporting a smile. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” She rolls her eyes when she sees my deer-in-headlights look. “It’s okay, we were kind of drunk that night. I’m Julie. From school?”
My eyes go to her belly and suddenly I’m terrified. I look at Ellie wondering if she’s picking up any of this. She looks more than a little uncomfortable.
“Julie. Of course. Sorry about that.”
She touches her belly and chortles. “Oh my god. You didn’t think…” Laughter bellows out of her. “Shit, I think I might have just peed a little.” A man comes up next to her. “Blake, this is my husband, Tim Hanson. Tim, this is Blake Montana. We took Business Analytics together.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. I took that class two years ago. I do not need another surprise after what I’ve been through.
“This is Ellie,” I say and sign. I turn to Ellie and fingerspell Julie and Tim.
“Oh,” Julie says to Ellie. “You’re deaf. Cool.” She overdramatically waves at her.
“Mr. Montana?” the hostess calls behind me.
I wasn’t aware I gave her my name. I turn and wait for her to continue.
The hostess smiles. “Your table is ready.”
“What happened to the two-hour wait?”
“Your parents are some of our best customers,” she says. “Right this way.”
Not about to balk at the special treatment—after all, I’m trying to impress my date tonight—I say goodbye to Julie and Tim and motion for Ellie to follow the hostess.
We’re seated in a nice booth by the window with a view of the sunset. Ellie sits across from me, and I wonder, if we became a couple, would she always sit across from me? It would make it easier to talk, but the thought of it makes me momentarily sad. Like I’d be missing out on holding her hand or pressing against her thigh.
“Hi. I’m Makenna. I’ll be your waitress this evening.” She hands us each a menu, and I stifle an eye roll knowing this is the kind of masochistic restaurant that only has prices on one menu—and they assume that one goes to the man. “Can I get you a drink?”
I look at Ellie and sign and say, “Do you want a drink? Wine?”
Of course I learned the sign for wine. I had to. But to an onlooker, it might seem like I’m swatting a bug off my face or something.
“Are you okay?” the waitress asks, following the motion of my hands.
“She’s deaf,” I say and sign.
“Oh.” Makenna turns to Ellie and says very loudly and slowly, “WOULD YOU LIKE A DRINK?”
Jesus Christ.
I’ve done a lot of research into deafness and Deaf culture over the past few weeks, wanting to learn everything I possibly can about it for Maisy’s sake and mine. One thing I’ve learned is that a lot of hearing people just don’t get it.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snap. “She’s not hard of hearing. And she’s not stupid. She’s deaf.”
Ellie taps my leg under the table and shakes her head. Then she signs, “Wine. You pick.”
“I’m really sorry, sir,” the waitress says.
I sigh. “Yeah. We’ll have two glasses of Caymus.”
“Coming right up.”
Ellie: A lot of people don’t know any better. It’s fine, Blake. You don’t need to defend me.
Me: Well, they should know better.
Ellie: Did you?
Me: Yeah. I suppose. I mean, I grew up in a town with a Deaf and Blind school, so maybe I know a tiny bit more than the general population.
Ellie: It’s annoying at times, but you learn to let it roll right off you. You’ll have to for Maisy’s sake. You don’t want her to see you getting angry with people because she’s deaf. That may give her the idea that being deaf is somehow a bad thing. It’s not.
Surprised by her words, I tilt my head and study her. “You really don’t think it is, do you?”
Ellie: If you’re asking me if I mind being deaf, the answer is no. And with a little luck, Maisy will grow up feeling the same way. Like I’ve said before, if you treat her like she has a disability, she may come to think of herself as disabled. Deafness, while technically falling under the disability umbrella, is not seen as such by most of us. It just means we often need extra accommodations so we have access to communication. But most will agree it’s definitely not a disability.
Wine gets placed in front of us by a groveling waitress. She looks right at Ellie and nods to her menu. Then in a normal tone, asks, “Do you know what you’d like?”
It’s a little dark in here, so I’m not sure Ellie can read the lips of a total stranger, but she knows what she’s asking, and she points to something on her menu.
“Salad with that?” Makenna asks.
Ellie fingerspells, “Ranch,” and I relay it.
“And you sir?”
“Surprise me,” I say. “I’ll have whatever she’s having.”
I see Ellie’s amusement out of the corner of my eye.
Ellie: If you’re trying to impress me by bringing me to this place, it won’t work.
“Damn. You got me. What would it take to impress you, Dr. Stone?”
She smirks and studies me for a moment.
Ellie: You have no idea how much you already have. The things you’ve done for Maisy. The way you’ve accepted her into your life. The effort you’re putting into everything.
Me: Now I’m the one blushing.
She looks up from her phone and laughs silently.
I wave a hand around. “Tell me why this doesn’t impress you.”
Ellie: I grew up coming to places like this. Not all the time, but sometimes. My parents are wealthy.
I furrow a brow at this new information. “What do they do?”
Ellie: My dad is a doctor. An MD. But that’s not where the money comes from. In fact he runs a free clinic in the city. He and his brothers inherited a lot from my great grandparents.
“But you live in such a modest apartment.”
“Your house is small,” she signs.
“It is not.”
Ellie: Compared to the size of your bank account, or your parents’ anyway, I’d say it is.
Me: Okay, fine. So neither of us goes around flaunting it. Just one more thing we have in common.
“One more?” she mouths.
I love the way her mouth moves. It reminds me of our kiss. She rarely mouths words, but I catch her doing it sometimes when she’s signing just a simple word or two.
“Well, let’s see. We both live in Calloway Creek. We come from money but don’t advertise it. And we both love Maisy.”
Ellie: I wanted to ask you something. I know you love her, even in the short time you’ve known her. But I see the way you look when Maisy hugs me or your mom. Do you not hug her?
Me: I want to. You have no idea how much I want to. I’m afraid I’ll scare her. I’m not sure she wants to hug me. She’s more standoffish with me than she is with you, my mom, and Allie. Maybe it’s because she never had a father figure? I guess I was just waiting for her to want a hug, or initiate one, or whatever. Do you think I’m wrong?
Ellie: Actually, I think just about everything you’ve done is right. Do you mind if I ask about her past? What happened to her? Is her mom alive? What brought her to you? I mean, if you’re comfortable speaking of it.
I spend most of our meal explaining what happened. It takes a long time because I text most of it between bites. And by the time I’m done, I realize, aside from my family, Ellie may know Maisy and me better than anyone else.
Ellie: I have one more question. I saw the look on your face when you were talking to that woman out front. Did you think the baby she’s carrying was yours?
I frown. Time to get real. After all, I just told her Maisy was the product of a fling.
Me: I’m not going to lie. I was a bit of a player in college. Even in grad school. I’m sure eventually you’ll hear things about me. It’s a small town. Word gets around.
Ellie: I already have.
My eyebrows go halfway up my forehead. “And you still agreed to dinner?”
She shrugs and dips her lobster in butter then plunges it into her mouth. A bit of butter remains on her chin, and I lean over and wipe it with my thumb. Our eyes lock and I’m taken back to the very first time I saw her in the grocery store. Electricity sizzles between us. No words need to be spoken or signed. We both feel it. Every time I touch her it’s like all my nerve endings instantly come alive.
I’ve been with countless women. Even liked some a lot. But never, not once, have I felt the way Ellie makes me feel. I’m tempted to tell her, but I don’t. I’ll scare her away. But surely she knows it. My eyes tell the story, right? Just like hers do. She wants me as badly as I want her. She’s thinking about the way I wiped her chin. The soft contact of my thumb against her face and the intimacy it suggested. She’s thinking of how our lips fit perfectly together the one time we kissed. And about how we don’t need words to convey our feelings.
One thing niggles at the back of my mind, though. Maybe all deaf are like this and I’m reading too much into it. Perhaps her expressive eyes, her comfortable silence, her easy demeanor, are simply traits deaf people acquire during their lives and I’m misinterpreting it for what… lust?
I definitely can’t say anything now. She’d run for the hills and maybe even assign another mentor to work with Maisy. No, I’ll have to keep my secret for now. The secret that I think I may have fallen for her.
Jesus, Blake, what are you, a horny adolescent on his first date? Man the fuck up and quit acting like a lovesick puppy.
I reach into the far corners of my mind for something I can talk about that will make her less appealing.
It’s hard. Really really hard. Luckily, I end up not having to think of anything as she sends another text.
Ellie: Maisy and I are more alike than you know. We’ve both been hurt in some way by a parent. While I’ve never known the neglect she had to endure, I was abandoned by my biological father.
I sit back and urge her to continue.
Ellie: I mean, it turned out to be a good thing because he hit my mom. She ran away when she found out she was pregnant with me. That’s when she met my dad—the man who adopted me. He was her doctor. After I was born, my mom and biological father had a run-in where he found out about me. It’s not that I wanted him to be my dad or anything, but I know in the back of my mind I may never truly understand how someone could reject a child for not being perfect.
“He didn’t want you because you’re deaf?”
She nods.
“He’s a stupid fucker.”
She narrows her eyes at me and signs, “Say again.”
I fingerspell, “Stupid fucker.”
She shows me how to sign it.
The waitress comes to clear our plates and offer dessert. Ellie signs, “It’s late. We should go,” so I ask for the check instead.
Someone’s phone rings in the booth behind me, their ringtone a popular tune that reminds me of our car ride to the winery.
Me: Can you tell me about the music in the car? Did you think Maisy would be able to hear it? Because I was told it was unlikely she could hear much of anything.
Ellie: No, I didn’t think she could hear it. But she could feel it.
“Like the vibrations?”
Ellie: It’s more than just that. Different frequencies and vibrations are felt through the cavities in the body. Tactile vibrations are especially felt through the soles of the feet and the palms of the hands. Music doesn’t just land in your auditory canal, it flows through your body. It can affect your mood, even your heartbeat depending on the rhythm, harmony, and tempo of the music.
She snickers then bites her lip as she sends another text.
Ellie: I’m sorry. I fear I may have created a monster. She may want to listen to music all the time now. Your poor neighbors.
“Poor neighbors?” I scoff with an amused snort. “What about poor me?”
Ellie: I’ll buy you some earplugs. Try to be accommodating. Just as music can be inspirational for hearing people, it can have the same effect on the deaf. Don’t be surprised if you end up buying an expensive sound system that Maisy can sit on and ‘listen’ to.
“You feel it through the soles of your feet, huh?”
She nods.
“So then, maybe we could go dancing sometime?”
She shrugs, “Maybe.”
Disappointment courses through me at the non-committal response.
Ellie looks down at her phone, brows furrowed.
I tap her foot with mine and when she looks up, I ask, ‘What?”
Ellie: For the past week, I’ve gotten a call from the same unknown number.
I shake my head. “Spam.”
Ellie: I suppose. But miraculously, I’ve managed to keep my number off the spam lists. And this particular call seems to come right around the same time every day. But it’s strange, because everyone who knows me knows I can’t answer a call unless it’s a video one.
Me: I’m sure it’s a robocall. It’s impossible to stay off the spam lists forever.
The check gets delivered and after Makenna takes my payment tableside, I get up and offer Ellie my elbow. “Shall we?”
She appraises it longer than I hoped she would, but then she stands and weaves her arm around mine. Those same nerve endings come to life again, as if they’re dormant unless she’s touching me.
As soon as I start the car, I turn on the radio. Loud. And find a song with lots of bass. She cracks a smile and places her palm on the speaker.
Thirty minutes later, my ears ringing, I pull into her parking lot and turn off the music.
“Thanks for dinner,” she signs, and goes for the door.
I put a hand on her arm, urging her to wait, then I get my phone.
Me: You said you were afraid earlier. You’re afraid of us being good together?
She shakes her head. Then she shrugs.
I’m confused. Then it dawns on me that maybe she’s afraid of falling for me.
I turn on the overhead light. “Ellie, have you been hurt by a man before? Other than your birth father?”
She shakes her head again.
“Have you had long-term relationships?”
Ellie: I’ve had boyfriends. Never relationships really.
What does that even mean? I’m not one to speak. I’ve never had one either. Did she sleep her way through school like I did? Or is it something else? She used the word abandoned when mentioning her father. Does she have abandonment issues?
Ellie: Don’t read too much into that, Blake. School was my sole focus for a long time.
“Go out with me again,” I say, putting my hand on top of hers.
She pulls away to sign, “Good idea?”
“Hell yes it’s a good idea. Didn’t you have fun tonight?”
Ellie: I did. What I mean is do you think it’s a good idea because of Maisy.
Me: Come on, El. You didn’t get where you are today without taking chances. Go dancing with me. It’ll be no big deal. We’ll go back to White Plains. I promise it’ll be fun. We’ll go someplace loud.
I put down my phone, plug my ears with my fingers, open my mouth wide, and blink my eyes.
She snorts quick bursts of air through her nose in laughter. “Okay,” she signs.
“Yes!” I shout, turning away, embarrassed about my childish excitement.
Ellie: Under one condition. You call Dallas and tell him about Maisy.
It’s something I’ve dreaded doing for two weeks. I didn’t want him to hear about it from anyone but me, but I know it’ll hurt him. Still, I know I have to. And Ellie is right. It’s time. “Okay,” I sign.
She smiles and nods.
“Can I walk you in?”
She shakes her head, waves, then exits the car. She looks back before she enters her building, hesitating, as if she wants to say something. She could, she’s fully under the lights. She could sign to me if she wanted to. But she doesn’t. She just stares. I’m sure she can’t see my eyes through the windshield in the dark, but I swear they connect with hers anyway. And that feeling—that warmth—floods throughout me like a rogue wave.
This woman has no idea what she’s doing to me.
And for that matter—neither do I.