Chapter 47
“I saw a babysitter ad on a lamppost the other day.”
“We’re looking for a new kitman.”
“What about bouncer?” I added, sheepish smile on my lips.
Both Paula’s and Henry’s suggestions were so far from anything Elliot would ever dream of doing; it was almost funny to watch him nod thoughtfully like he was actually considering any of our options.
“Yeah, maybe.” I could tell he was nervous, but I couldn’t tell why.
He’d met Paula before, but—his words, not mine—that didn’t count.
Because he could barely introduce himself before he’d dragged me into that supply closet, and I hadn’t been particularly thrilled to force them to hang out after having just told Paula how awful of a person he was.
So, Elliot had decided to pretend that night never happened.
He’d formerly invited both of them over for dinner during what would be our last weekend in the intern apartment.
A very bad idea, in hindsight. All my stuff was already in boxes, ready to be moved to my new place, courtesy of the full-time position that had made it onto my desk last week.
No fanfare, just a sealed envelope with my name on it, suspiciously sitting in Camila’s office after hours.
Inside, the job offer of my dreams with a salary high enough for one of the most expensive cities in the world.
Not a lot of time off and limited sick days, but there was an insurance plan I could add my grandparents to.
“Now all you need is an apartment.” There was a judgmental note in my tone because he’d had weeks to find one and had no problem helping me with my search. When it came to his living situation, I was worried Elliot might have to move back in with his mom.
Sitting on a chair Henry had dragged onto our fire escape, Paula gasped.
The way she always did when she had a great idea—or, I guess, thought she did.
One look at Henry standing beside her, holding on to the back of her chair, and he knew.
He shook his head before she could even say, “Henry’s gone for games soon. You can take his apartment.”
I kind of liked how my best friend and boyfriend were both trying their very hardest to impress each other. We were entering ass-kissing territory never before explored, and they were so obvious about it, it was painful to watch.
“Just one problem.” Henry threw us a look. First me, sitting opposite them on the ladder, then Elliot, standing beside it. At last, the way he glanced at Paula meant that they’d clearly discussed this before. He said it that same way, too. “You’re taking that apartment, Charm.”
She narrowed her eyes across her shoulder, which confirmed that they really had had this conversation before. Multiple times. Paula was simply too stubborn.
“Elliot’s an awful roommate,” I said, laughing. “Don’t do it, Paula.”
“Hey!”
Casually, my eyes flitted his way. Sweet smile on my lips that immediately wiped the frown off his face. “What?” I asked airily.
“I don’t remember you complaining,” he whispered conspiratorially. “Not when you were getting ready in my room because the light was better. Not when I adapted my schedule so you’d always have the bathroom after your runs or when, multiple times, I carried you up the stairs.”
Something swelled in my chest, but then again, something always did when Elliot whispered sweet words or did sweet things or kissed me, a little too long and a little too intently. My love for him grew inside my ribcage like a potted plant that was perfectly cared for.
Sometimes I didn’t know what to do with it all, and then said things like “I did complain when your ex-girlfriend briefly moved in.”
At this point, we could laugh about it. I think. “Moved in seems a little excessive, don’t you think?”
Sweet smile again. “No.”
Elliot laughed, the sound faintly traveling down the street, bouncing off buildings, hopefully not waking the angry accent in one of those redbrick complexes. “She’s been trying to apologize. I’ve got a million missed calls and texts. I’m surprised she hasn’t shown up here.”
The smile on my face sobered just slightly. “She texted me earlier.” Between preparing for what had seemed like the royal family coming over (judging by how big of a deal Elliot made), packing, and cleaning, there hadn’t been a moment to tell him.
Now wasn’t a good time either, but one glance at Paula and Henry, and it was clear they were engrossed in their own conversation.
Arguing, in hushed voices, about why she still insisted on staying in her roach-infested studio.
My bet was on a guilty conscience because she’d already let Henry pay off her student loans.
“You gave her your number?” Elliot asked.
“No.” I raised my brows. “But I didn’t give you my number either.”
“Touché.” He sighed. “You don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to,” he added. Lips pressed together tightly, arms crossed. Uncomfortable conversation incoming.
“I know. I probably shouldn’t.” But part of me wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, now that Elliot wasn’t anymore.
“But?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She seemed nice when we first met. Wholly focused on you, of course, but nice nonetheless. And I can’t really blame her for still being in love with you.”
Can’t imagine it being easy, getting over someone like Elliot Ashwood. Harder, probably, when you were the one who messed up.
I’d almost pushed him too far to reel back in, and even though I didn’t know it back then—had no clue how to interpret my feelings or what to do with them—my heart had ached at the prospect of losing him. And that was after I’d known the man for two months, not ten years.
“You can’t blame her for still being in love with me.” Elliot hummed, droopy smile back on his lips. “Why’s that?”
For someone who hadn’t wanted me to say it two weeks ago, he’d been very demanding when it came to the L-word since. I can’t sleep before you say it. Don’t you dare hang up on me without the proper goodbye. I love you, now say it back.
And maybe Hunter Ashwood had been right about one thing that night. Elliot was built to love. It’s like it ran through his veins, kept him alive, and almost overflowed his systems, which was why he had so much of it to give. It was almost unfathomable, with how cold the rest of his family seemed.
“Hey,” he complained, nudging my legs, moving to stand between them. “Why’s that?”
My face split into a grin and something fizzled in my stomach because a man I thought I’d barely be able to tolerate three months ago was pouting like a child, demanding to hear three simple words from me.
I rolled my eyes. “Because I love you, Elliot.”