Chapter Sixteen
After wresting my keys from the lock, I opened the front door of my apartment and the scent that met me at the threshold practically knocked me off my feet: Buttery garlic and sizzling rosemary.
A hint of lemon zest? I froze in the doorway, taking it in like a bloodhound in some Michelin-star kitchen.
A low light glowed from the hallway, and a hum emanated from deeper in the apartment.
Music played low from the speaker, something bluesy and sultry, and felt altogether scandalous for a Monday evening.
The dining table, typically buried under a graveyard of unopened mail and promotional show merch, was fully set.
Tablecloth. Real plates. (I’d forgotten I’d even had those!) Cloth napkins? ! Where on earth—
But then I saw Leo in the kitchen . . . scraping scraps into the waste bin and stuffing pans of uneaten food into Tupperware containers.
Wearing the navy button-down that made the turquoise of his blue eyes even more brilliant, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, and hair still damp from a shower, he kept his back to me, even though I knew he’d heard me jangling the keys in the door.
He had flour on his pants and heartbreak inscribed in his posture. Like his hurt and disappointment had settled into his shoulders and they couldn’t quite fake ease anymore. Leo continued loading the dishwasher and kept his eyes focused on the wet plates in his hands, refusing to meet my eyes.
Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, he spoke. “I figured you’d had a hell of a few days, and it would be nice for you to come home and we wouldn’t talk about work. You’d eat. You’d relax. And we’d toast to our anniversary. But so much for that plan.”
He wiped his hands on a dish towel, balled it up, and tossed it into the sink.
“I thought you’d let someone take care of you for once.
But apparently, you’re not a ‘rescue dog in a sad Sarah McLachlan montage.’” The dishes clanged as he gripped the edge of the counter, as if anchoring himself.
“You made me sound like a joke, El. While I was planning dinner, you were busy serving punch lines. I thought I was showing up for you, proving that not all men are stereotypes. Meanwhile, you turned me into a sound bite. I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. ”
His voice cracked a little, and it almost broke me. He didn’t raise it. He didn’t turn to look in my direction. But every word landed with pinpoint precision, soft and lethal, like a sprinkle of salt against an open wound.
Turning to face me with hurt in his eyes, he asked, “Why did you meet me in Paris, Elliot? Why?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “If you knew you’d never be willing to let me in, then why’d you come?”
But I hadn’t come. I’d picked my career. Months ago, I’d made the choice. Clean, deliberate, and final. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to care. So why was I here now, standing in my kitchen, buckling under the weight of a decision I’d already made?
“I’m sorry, Leo, but I can’t be the girl you want. That’s the truth. Besides, none of this is real!” I shouted, gesturing wildly, not sure if I was referencing the magic spell, the whole idea of love, or both.
I could see the muscle twitching in his jaw, the way his knuckles tightened slightly around the fork in his hand. “Look around you. The life we’re starting to build together. If none of this is real, what is it, then?”
I stood there, heart pounding, working to breathe through the chaos in my head and trying desperately to come up with an answer to his question.
He leaned back against the countertop, arms crossed against his chest, his jaw clenching tighter with each second that passed.
I shook my head, heat rising up my neck.
“I can’t do this. I can’t let myself believe in something that’s just going to fall apart.
Not again. I’m just trying to stay upright here, and I’m sorry, but my default is to lean on the only thing that’s been steady in my life: my career, my brand, the stability I built for myself.
It’s what’s gotten me through everything. ”
“No, you’re looking for a reason to run. So just say that. Don’t burn down the room and then go and blame the match.”
And just then, I wanted to tell him this was actually about more than just my career.
I wanted to tell him about Matty. How there had been a time when I was naive and wide-eyed, and even though my parents had broken apart in ways I still couldn’t completely wrap my head around, I’d still believed things could be different for me.
It took all I had not to admit right then and there that it wasn’t just the show that kept me from jumping into love with both feet, it was the way Matty had shattered my trust, leaving me with a fragile heart I wasn’t sure I could risk again.
I wanted to say all of that, but instead, I stayed silent, which seemed to say a lot more to Leo than my words ever could.
I surveyed the table. The tapers flickered, and the bubbles in our Vinho Verde had completely fizzled out. Leo sat down, resting his head in his hands. He closed his eyes and exhaled.
“You know, you told me who you were. From day one, you told me. I just didn’t want to hear it.
Didn’t want to believe it.” He looked up and into my eyes.
“So I suppose I gave you no choice but to shout it at me. I could’ve done without the on-air part.
I don’t think I deserved that kind of public humiliation, but in fairness, you did try to warn me.
” He paused and let out a sigh. “I guess when I saw you waiting for me at the Eiffel Tower, I thought it meant we wanted the same thing.”
How could I possibly know why the alternate timeline version of me showed up that day in Paris, because that girl wasn’t me!
But looking into Leo’s expression, all softness and surrender, I could only assume what she must have been thinking.
“I imagine what she wanted . . . I mean, what I wanted, was to be with you.”
“But not anymore?” he asked.
I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure if the magic spell was meant to show me what could’ve been if I’d taken a different road or if it was meant to reaffirm the choices I’d already made.
I didn’t have the first freakin’ clue what fate was trying to tell me.
Only that it had led me here. To this moment.
And even with everything I’d experienced, everything I felt, I still had no idea how to answer his question.
What I did know was I needed a little distance from him and from work.
To take a breather and to figure it all out.
And I guess he did too, because before I could suggest it, Leo said, “I think we need some space. Why don’t you go ahead to Belize without me?
Spend time with your family. Spend time getting clear on what you really want.
I’ll try to meet you there for the wedding.
Things with work are pretty busy for me anyway.
I could use the time here to sort some stuff out too. ”
“Leo—”
“I’m not perfect, Elliot. This isn’t a Nancy Meyers rom-com.
I might hurt you. In fact, I probably will because that’s what happens in real relationships.
Not intentionally, but people hurt each other and forgive each other, and they try again.
And if you’re looking for a version of love where the person always says the right thing or never makes a mess of it .
. . that’s not me. But I’ll always show up for you.
Real, honest, and fully in it, because I don’t know us any other way.
” He leaned back in his seat and shrugged. “I’m not so sure about you, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who is the real Elliot West? The woman who rails against romance on the radio, or the one who shares with me her sadness and her joys and lets me cradle her in my arms? You need to decide what you want. Who it is you want to be. You see, love, I’ve learned, doesn’t survive in halves.
Eventually, it needs a whole heart.” He stood up, his chair scraping against the wood floor.
“And I’m offering up mine. Maybe take the next few days and decide if you’ll ever trust me with yours. ”
Love doesn’t survive in halves.
The words echoed like a verdict. After years spent dissecting other people’s heartbreaks, I was standing in a pile of rubble of my own making. The clarity I once wielded like a scalpel had vanished, and when I looked up, so had Leo, the front door clicking shut behind him.
He spent the next three nights on the couch, leaving for work before I was even awake and coming home long after I’d gone to bed. We became shadows under the same roof, carefully avoiding each other, like silence was safer than saying the wrong thing.
Before I left for Mom’s wedding in Belize, I reminded Ravi I’d be out of town for a few days. He didn’t look up, just gave a short nod and muttered, “Good. Maybe you’ll have things figured out by the time you get back.”
No warmth. No curiosity. Just quiet disappointment wrapped in clipped professionalism. And honestly, with everything I’d put in jeopardy for our show, I couldn’t blame him.
The morning of my flight, I set my alarm for just before six, hoping to catch Leo still asleep on the couch. Hoping for something? A goodbye, even? But when I stepped into the living room, the pillows were stacked, the blankets folded, and he was already gone.