by Decker, Ally
Get it together, she told herself again, but her stupid heart wouldn't listen, especially not when he offered her a lazy smile with his eyes still only half-open. "Ready when you are."
I wish, she thought, but only nodded in reply.
She dragged her chair closer to his and pulled the tray with her. It was time to get to work.
***
They barely said a word to each other that didn't involve her checking up on him through the process. Naomi expected it to be awkward, since they hadn't seen each other in about thirteen years and their last conversation consisted mostly of her shouting at him and storming off. She found it relaxing, instead. She focused on what she was doing, on the small area of skin that was hers to turn into an art piece, and she let her mind drift. She didn't think about the plans she'd had for a long bath and a night of reading in bed with bowl of ice cream and chocolate chips; she didn't think about their past or the fact that she found him ridiculously attractive now. She enjoyed her work and he seemed to enjoy being worked on. Win, win.
Finally, she sat up straighter, her lower back muscles protesting the movement. She winced as she brushed the excess ink and a few droplets of blood from the tattoo, then she reached for a small mirror.
"So. How about them hearts, Doc?" she said and internally rolled eyes at herself. Seriously? What was that?
He opened his eyes, but didn't look at her this time. His gaze immediately zeroed in on his chest and, a few seconds later, on the mirror she was holding there so he could see the tattoo better.
"Wow," he murmured after a while. He seemed unable to look anywhere else, gaze locked on his own chest. "It's amazing."
Naomi let herself relax. "The redness is normal and should disappear with proper care," she said and followed that with a standard, short version of the aftercare. "Justin will give you the more detailed info on your way out, and if something bothers you, don't hesitate to call."
Elliot finally looked up at her and the intensity of that gaze caught her off-guard. There was heat and tenderness, pride and excitement, and she didn't know how to respond to that. She didn't know what to do with such openness, other than to turn the moment into a joke, but for some reason, she didn't want to do it now. It would feel too much like laughing him off and that was the last thing she wanted.
"I won't," he said and she had to remind herself what he was answering to. Oh, the call.
"I can give you my private number, too," she found herself suggesting. She never did that for other clients, but it didn't matter. He wasn't just a client, after all, he was an old friend and—
"That would be great," he said, while his gaze focused on her hands as she secured a cover over his tattoo. "Thanks."
Oh, don't kid yourself, she told herself. You want him to call you, that's it. No excuses.
"It's no trouble," she said, hoping to play it off. She had dropped enough hints as it was.
It made him laugh for some reason she couldn't figure out, but it didn't matter. She laughed with him.
CHAPTER THREE
Elliot's old room in his parents' house had been turned into a guest room years ago, but he still laid claim on it any time he visited. Even when he didn't stay over, there were times he liked to go there when he needed to take some time off from family time. Like today.
He used the excuse that it was time for him to start getting ready for the wedding and hightailed out of the living room.
It wasn't even that bad today. His parents appeared to be happy enough and his siblings, Aiden and Tori, seemed fine as well, so Elliot didn't know what it was that irked him. But he recognized the telltale signs of something going on—his father was playing with his tie constantly, his mother disappeared for the last minute hairdresser appointment, and his siblings were so focused on keeping the conversation going, they moved to analyzing in detail the latest trial story that seemed to "electrify" the law community.
Elliot even tried to follow it at first, but enough was enough.
There was a chance that nothing was going on, of course. Maybe that was simply the only way his family could coexist these days. They could never relax around each other anymore, not when they were all in one place. Elliot could do companionable silence with his dad when he accompanied him to a golf course. He could also spend an easy night with Tori, when she needed to get away from her roommates—they would sprawl on his couch and binge whatever they felt like watching. But his mom had a talent for taking herself out of any situation, whether literally leaving or just focusing hard on something that wasn't any of them, and Aiden would steamroll over even a glimpse of a conversation that might turn difficult. It drove Elliot's patience to its limits and to avoid blowing out, he needed to take a breather every once in a while.
Now, after he got out of the shower, he stood in front of the bathroom mirror to deal with his hair and his gaze dropped to the tattoo on his chest. It had been over three weeks since he'd gotten it, but it still surprised him every once in a while, black ink stark against his pale skin, a symbol of his achievement and the realized dream.
Sometimes, it made him think about Naomi, too.
He'd put the card she'd given him in his wallet, and he'd pulled it out a few times the first week, but he'd always put it back into the same snug little pocket that was invisible if he didn't search for it. There's no use in calling, he told himself each time. The tattoo was healing just fine, so what would he tell her? She'd seemed happy enough to see him, her old anger apparently forgotten, but it didn't mean she would respond well to his second attempt at asking her out. Elliot could take a hint. He'd taken that hint loud and clear years ago. He was not going back for more.
And with how he'd reacted to seeing her again, there was no way he could set up himself to be her friend and nothing else.
Sitting in that tattoo chair with her so close had made him relive the times in high school when they'd sat together in the cafeteria or library and he'd wished he would open his mouth and say something particularly smart or funny—something that would make her see him as a guy she could be interested in. Sometimes, he'd wished he could just confess, put it out in the open for her to do what she wished with it. But every time, he'd kept quiet, because he'd known—he'd known—that what she would do was turn him down.
After the whole blowout and her disappearing, Elliot had wished he'd done it in that cafeteria or the library, or wherever else he'd thought to do so. If he had, if he'd talked with her earlier, maybe she'd at least have turned him down gently.
A knock on the door brought him back to the present, and he shouted "Come in!" through the open bathroom door. "I'll be right there," he added when he saw Aiden entering the room. Elliot washed his hands slowly, wondering what his brother might want. They'd barely exchanged a few words downstairs and Aiden hadn't seemed to have anything more to say, so why was he here?
"What the hell?" Aiden's loud voice startled Elliot. His older brother was usually calm to the point of being infuriating. "Since when do you have a tattoo?"
Elliot rolled his eyes as he reached for the dress pants he'd laid on the bed earlier.
"Since three weeks ago." He glanced back at his brother. "I got it after the transplant surgery."
While the two of them weren't close, Elliot had shared the news with the whole family. They'd all been genuinely happy for him, which felt better than Elliot would ever admit. Since he'd chosen med school over law school, he only remembered a handful of times when his family was truly supportive of his career.
His answer now seemed to placate Aiden, even if he kept frowning at Elliot's chest.
"You wanted something?" Elliot prompted him, and Aiden looked up to meet his gaze.
"Yes, sorry. I wanted to talk to you about tonight."
"What about it?" The whole family was going to the wedding of mom's niece, Rebecca, and they'd already decided to split into two cars, since Aiden and Tori were both bringing dates and there was no way they'd all fit. What was left to discuss?
Aiden lifted his hand as if he wanted to run it over his head, but stopped himself and put it on the back of his neck. Probably doesn't want to mess with his perfect hair, Elliot thought, then grimaced internally. He obviously wasn't in the best mood to deal with his family.
"My date for tonight is my boss's daughter," Aiden started, voice flat, sounding as if he was giving a report. "She's nice and we get along well, but we're not really…"
"Together?" Elliot supplied after a long moment when Aiden didn't seem to find the right word.
"Yes. We've been on a few dates, but that's it."
"Okay?" He really didn't know where his brother was going with this. Aiden had just shared more about his private life with him than he'd done since he was a teenager.
"Listen, I just… She's my boss's daughter, and I don't want him to hear anything he shouldn't hear. I know how you can get, so I wanted to talk to you, to ask you to… refrain from starting anything. Let's just have a nice evening, okay?"
For a moment, Elliot was speechless. Then, ignoring the way his stomach suddenly felt hollow, he crossed his arms against his chest and met Aiden's gaze head on.
"Are you asking me to behave?"
Aiden's shoulders slumped and for a moment he looked tired, but Elliot didn't care at this point.
"You're unbelievable," he added, shaking his head and taking a step back before he could force himself to stay in place.
"And you're confrontational," Aiden told him, and waved a hand in his direction. "Just like you're being right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I just nod and agree with everything because you say so?"
"Damn it, Elliot." Aiden crossed his arms against his chest as well and glared at him. "You can do whatever you want to do, you always have and always will," he said. "I'm just asking for one night."
"You can do whatever you want to do, you always have and always will." The words echoed in Elliot's brain, jarring with how untrue they were. And how they sounded like the worst kind of accusation, coming from Aiden.
Angry words, ones designed to hurt back, were clogging his throat, but Elliot swallowed them down. Then he swallowed once more to make sure his voice would hold.
"Sure. Okay. You got it. Anything else?"
There was a flash of something—surprise, maybe?—in Aiden's eyes, but then he just shook his head.
"No. Thanks." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "See you downstairs in an hour?"
Elliot turned away towards the window. "Don't worry. I'll be on time."
He waited until he heard the door shut again before dropping down to sit on the bed, as his brother's words kept playing in his head.
"You can do whatever you want to do, you always have and always will."
If only, he thought, staring at the new rug his mother had chosen to cover up the scratches on the floor he knew were there. If only.
***
"So, Elliot, are you a lawyer as well?" Paula, Aiden's date, asked, half-turning in her seat to look at him in the back of the car. "Aiden only told me about your parents."
"Our parents, and Tori, too. I'm a surgeon," Elliot said.
"Oh, so you're the rebel in the family," she said with a laugh in her voice and a quirked up smile.
Elliot glanced at Aiden in the rearview mirror before turning back to Paula. "That's what I've been told. Are you a lawyer?"
"Yes, yes, I am." She shrugged. "I guess I'm not rebel material."
You and Aiden seem to be perfect for each other then, Elliot thought, but kept his mouth shut. He would never tell her that anyway, but especially not today. He was cast to play a perfect brother and a son, after all. Not an easy task, considering you've never been one, his traitorous mind supplied, but he ignored it and focused on Paula's story about learning to read from her father's legal briefs.
When he relaxed, he realized that he liked her. She was funny and smart, and although she was seemingly a perfect daughter, he could sense the playfulness underneath, the genuine joy. Aiden's perfect son shtick was usually underlined with tension, but Paula seemed to have none of that. If they lasted, maybe she could give him some pointers.
Elliot spent the rest of the drive making small talk with his brother's date, while Aiden barely said a word. When their eyes met in the rearview mirror at some point, Elliot mouthed "What?", but Aiden only shrugged, slowly and barely there, as if he didn't want Paula to see. He probably didn't. Shrugging had to be a no-go in the perfect man handbook.
Isn't it exhausting? Elliot wanted to ask him, to shout and shake his brother by those barely-moving shoulders. But he didn't. He never had. Because despite of what Aiden thought, Elliot rarely got his way when it came to his family.
What was one more night of the exact same thing, anyway?
CHAPTER FOUR
Naomi didn't want to go stag to Rebecca's wedding, but Richard, her friend and designated wedding party companion, caught the flu that had been going around, so she had no choice. No matter how tempting staying home was, Rebecca would skin her alive for not showing up.
I can always sneak out early, Naomi told herself as she was waiting for her Uber. The car should've been here already, but with the snowfall overnight, she knew the roads were awful. She just hoped it would get here before her legs would start getting frostbite.
She got her wish a minute later and, settled in the warm back seat of the car, she pulled a pocket mirror to see if her make-up held up. Since she was going alone, she might as well take advantage of some guy without a date as well and spend a nice evening flirting with no strings attached. She wasn't looking for a relationship and she was definitely through waiting for Elliot to call. She could do whatever she wanted and not care the next day.
"You look great," Theresa, the driver, told Naomi, smiling at her when their gazes met in the mirror. "Whoever they are, they'll like what they see."
Naomi thanked her, putting the mirror away. "I'm going stag to a wedding," she shared, because why not. Theresa had engaged her first.
"That may suck, but on the other hand, who knows, right? Maybe you'll find someone there. Many love stories start at weddings."
I'm not looking for love, Naomi thought, but that wasn't something to tell a stranger. "I'm just hoping for a nice evening."
Her hopes held up right until she got to the wedding party venue and took a look at the sitting chart.
"You have to be kidding me," she muttered, staring daggers at the name written right next to hers. Elliot Dolinski. All those years, they hadn't as much as passed each other on the street and now this? Twice in less than a month?
In that moment, she considered turning around and leaving. She'd gone to the wedding ceremony, surely that counted for something.
Someone pushed against her, wanting to see the chart, and she stumbled into Rebecca's mother.
"Oh dear, you look wonderful!" Mrs. Roshah beamed at her and brought her into a hug. "Beautiful."
"Thank you, Mrs. Roshah. You look lovely, as well."
"Oh, stop it." The woman waved her hand. "You're too kind. So, do you know where you're sitting?"
Naomi's shoulders sagged, but luckily Mrs. Roshah didn't notice. "Yes, I do. Table number seven."
"Oh, you're sitting with my nephews! Come, come, I'll go with you, I didn't see them at the church and I want to say hi."
Mrs. Roshah caught her by the arm and pulled forward, so Naomi had no choice but to follow. It will be fine, you got this, she repeated in her head over and over, but when she caught the sight of Elliot at the table, her mind went blank.
He'd looked great in everyday clothes, but in a suit he looked simply stunning. Where the hell had the gangly teenager went?
She caught the moment he saw her and his eyes widened for a second before he schooled his face and offered her and Mrs. Roshah a pleasant smile. Naomi hoped her own was just as convincing.
After the round of greetings and introductions, Mrs. Roshah took off to "keep an eye on things", leaving Naomi not only with Ellio
t, but also, apparently, with his siblings and their dates. Thankfully, Elliot was alone. She couldn't imagine sitting at the table with him and his date, pretending she hadn't been fantasizing about his hands—and other parts—over the last few weeks.
There were a few empty seats left at the table, so Naomi hoped they could provide a distraction, but since she was sitting right next to Elliot, there was no avoiding him.
"I'm glad to see you," he told her in a lowered voice. He seemed honest and the ghost of a smile felt genuine, so she took a deep breath and pushed back the "Oh really?" that wanted to spill out.
"It's good to see you, too," she offered. It was both a truth and a lie, but he seemed to take her word for it. "How's the tattoo?" she asked, matching his soft voice and relaxing into the seat. Maybe they could do this. Maybe they could spend the evening catching up and reminiscing, since they hadn't done it at the parlor. Then they'd go their separate ways yet again. It wasn't quite the evening she'd imagined on her way here, but it could still be nice. She hoped.
"It's good." He lifted his hand to rest over where she knew the tattoo was. "It healed well. I still catch myself surprised it's there," he admitted with a bashful smile that stirred something in her—something she decided to ignore.
"It happens often. The first one I got, it lasted for two months. The others were easier, but it's still an adjustment."
"How many do you have now?"
"Four. Thinking about the fifth, but I'm still undecided." She raised her eyebrows at him. "And you? Are you thinking about having another?"
"No, no." He shook his head and chuckled. "One is enough for me."
She expected him to say that, but it was nice to have it confirmed. It made her feel like she still knew him, at least a bit, even despite all the years in between and all the changes.
That was the moment she realized that it had been years since she'd talked with anyone who had known her as a teenager, with the exception of her mother. All the old friendships had crumbled over the years, not surviving the inevitable long-distance separation. Naomi thrived on novelty, she was inspired by it, but there were times when she wondered—how was it, how did it work, to have those kinds of ties with people?
