by Fields, MJ
Xander stopped in front of my booth and tapped on the wood, drawing my attention. “Dude, not trying to be a dick, but you’re kinda killing the vibe. People usually come here to get away from work and their problems, not to be reminded of them.”
My head snapped up. “Huh?”
“You’ve been sitting here for three hours, alternating between slaving away at your laptop,” he shouted over the music, picking up a handful of stray blueprints, “and staring at your phone like you’ve lost your damn puppy.”
I pulled my phone out and sure enough, he was right. I looked around and realized the bar had filled up with a typical Friday night crowd. Customers lined the bar and were scattered throughout the room, laughing and basking in that anything-is-possible, early-weekend happiness that only comes on Friday nights. Xander might’ve had a point; it was one thing for me to lose myself in work here while it was empty, but nobody wants to be the depressing loner in the corner.
“Sorry, guess I lost track of time. It’s just easier to work here. Can I use your office?”
“Yeah, sure. We’re about to get slammed, so I’ll probably be at the bar until closing.”
Xander hadn’t always been a model citizen, but after he got expelled from Duke and was one more idiotic decision away from hitting rock bottom, Sipology’s owner took a chance and gave him a job bartending. This bar and his job had somehow provided Xander with the kind of stability he so desperately needed. Seven years later, Xander was still a far cry from normal, if you asked me, but I had to give him credit for how far he’d come. His personal life was still a damn circus, but I mostly thought that was for the best. The day Xander looked at a woman and cared more about her heart than her bra size was a day I’d pay to see.
My phone pinged with a text, and seeing El’s name was enough to make me jump up and haphazardly stuff my things into my bag.
“Hello? Bryce, did you hear anything I said?” Xander asked after a few seconds.
“What? Uh, yeah. Sorry. I won’t be needing your office after all. I have to go.”
Xander crossed his arms and arched a brow. “Guess you found the puppy.”
* * *
Thanks to the sudden threat of a rainstorm, Elliot had been forced to throw together a last-minute plan B for her client’s upcoming outdoor wedding. When the forecast changed during the rehearsal dinner to include overnight thunderstorms, Elliot told her clients she’d take care of the logistics to get everything moved indoors. By herself.
Her offer didn’t surprise me; she’d always been selfless beyond belief. Once she started, though, she quickly realized she’d need reinforcements.
“Thanks for letting me cash in on the bet so last minute. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your help.” Elliot’s smile spread as she picked up a couple of folding chairs to take inside, and in that moment she could’ve asked me to fry an egg underwater and I would’ve tried to find a way to make it happen.
I picked up the remaining chairs and followed her into the renovated barn, the alternate reception location. “You’re welcome, but I would’ve come regardless of the bet. This doesn’t count.”
“Really? Why? This more than makes up for you losing to me in Mario Kart.”
“Nah, this isn’t even close. This is just…helping a friend in need. Tomorrow night’s still good for you, right?”
She paused, chewing her lip in contemplation before waving her hand dismissively. “You really don’t have to do anything else, Bryce. You’re practically a lifesaver already.”
I dropped the chairs in place at the table and stopped. When Elliot realized I was no longer following her, she stopped and turned back. “What is it, Uno?" I said, now that I had her full attention. "Are you having second thoughts about the date thing, because we can—”
“No,” she said quickly, cutting me off. “I mean, I don’t know. I, uh...” She paused, groaning and dropping her head back. “God, this is going to sound so lame.”
“I used to let you talk me into participating in your Barbie weddings. Think you’ve got my number on lame, El. Talk to me.”
Her shoulders dropped as a smile appeared, and I gave her one in return.
“True. Okay, so…a while back I decided my dating habits needed an overhaul. I had this tendency of trying to mold every boyfriend into ‘the one.’ I went into relationships with the intention of meeting my future husband. Which was absurd, of course, because I was way too young for that. But I craved a healthy, stable, long-term relationship. It doesn’t take a shrink to figure out why…” She trailed off, shifting her attention to the centerpiece before continuing. “But then I realized I needed some time to be single and independent. And I swore to myself that I wouldn’t put any pressure on my next relationship. But with you…it’s complicated because we have history. I’m just not sure how to navigate whatever it is we’re doing. Or not doing. Or will be doing eventually. I mean, this is exactly what I said I wouldn’t do—pressure. We haven’t even been out yet, and I’m already overthinking things. Do you see—”
“Elliot,” I interrupted, coming up to her and putting my hands gently on her shoulders. “Breathe. Look, I know you’ve got a lot going on in your life right now. My life is crazy too. The last thing I want to do is stress you out any more than you already are. There’s no way to know where this will go between us, so let’s just take it as it comes and see what happens, yeah? We can go slow. No pressure.”
Relief flooded her features, and knew I’d said the right thing.
“Okay. If you’re sure. But if you’re having second thoughts or don’t want to—”
“Is that your default response for everyone, or is it reserved just for me?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You keep making excuses for me or trying to downplay things, almost like you’re waiting for me to bail. Like you expect it.”
Elliot slowly set down the wine glasses she carried and shifted her attention back to me. “Bryce, I’m not waiting for you to bail. It’s just…” She dropped her gaze to her feet. “It's easier this way. You know, setting realistic expectations based on…”
Based on my history of bailing.
But that history had nothing to do with her.
I knew telling her that would sound like just another excuse, and I had no intention of giving her any more reason to question my presence in her life. I’d just have to shift her expectations until they didn’t include a question mark about how long I’d stick around.
“I can’t erase the past, El. But the beauty of the future is that it hasn’t been written yet. That’s what the present is for. Give me a chance to rewrite myself into your life and future. In whatever capacity.”
“Okay,” she murmured. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah? So tomorrow? Six o’clock?”
“It’s an early wedding, so six works for me. You never said where we’re going.”
I smirked, grateful that things were back on track. “Guess. You can ask me three yes or no questions and then try to figure out what it is.”
Her eyes lit up, and I could already see the wheels turning in her head as she considered her first question. “Is it the kind of thing that requires tennis shoes and shovels or high heels and champagne?”
I balked, too caught off guard to correct her non-yes-or-no question. “Shovels? What the fuck kind of surprises are you used to?”
She laughed off my shock and shrugged. “Hey, who am I to judge if the mystery date includes getting rid of a body?”
“I usually save surprises that involve committing felonies for the third date. Don’t wanna scare ‘em off too soon.”
“Good thinking. Wouldn’t wanna alert anyone to your stalker-like tendencies too early on,” she quipped with a wink.
“Pretty sure you’re the one stalking me.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” I laughed, shaking my head at her. “Tennis shoes, by the way. It’s defin
itely a tennis shoes kinda thing. Shovels optional, but not necessary. Next question. And no more cheating. Yes or no, Uno.”
She hummed in contemplation while we carried the last of the tables into the barn. “Will we be eating dinner there?”
“It’s an option, though we could do dinner somewhere else afterward.”
“Okay…tennis shoes and the option to eat dinner. Third question.” She paused, arching a brow as her lips curled into a sly smile. “Will one of us be embarrassed before the date is over?”
Damn, she’s good.
She was referring to the way she jokingly apologized for embarrassing me the other night in Mario Kart. Our lives were vastly different now, but when it came to competing against each other, some things never changed.
I rubbed the back of my neck and tried to keep my face neutral. “It’s possible.”
She laughed. “That means yes. Which also means it’s probably going to be you. I know where we’re going,” she exclaimed triumphantly.
“What? Where?”
“Has to be some kind of real life go-kart place. You said the other day you only lost because you’re rusty from not playing video games anymore. Still not sure that I believe that.”
“Wow. Either that was some sorcery mind reading shit or you missed your calling as a detective.”
She scoffed and waved her hand in the air. “Hardly. Adult Bryce McKnight might be a virtual stranger, but I still remember a lot about ten-year-old Bryce McKnight. And that Bryce hated losing. It doesn’t take a detective to figure out you’d want revenge. Bring it, Yoshi.”
She wiggled her eyebrows playfully and hit me with a smirk. God, she’s adorable. I laughed, but the sting of the truth in her words was a tough pill to swallow.
I hate that she’s right. I hate that there’s so much we don’t know about each other. But at the same time…maybe being semi-strangers now will work in my favor. Maybe I can redesign the boundaries of our relationship.
In that moment, I chose to believe the friendship we once shared was simply the foundation for something deeper.
It had to be.
We spent the next hour moving the rest of the decorations and tables into the barn-turned-reception hall behind the venue’s ceremony location. Elliot thanked me again before we finished, but I refused to take any credit for the magic act she’d performed by transforming the space into what surely would be this bride’s dream reception. Sure, I’d strung twinkle lights and moved tables where she told me to, but Elliot was the one who took the time to painstakingly rearrange centerpieces until each one was perfect.
Watching Elliot work, seeing the way she problem-solved when she wasn’t happy with the space between tables or with the location of a certain decoration, felt like I was watching a live performance of art in motion. Which was cheesy as hell, but that’s the only way to describe it. Where some people, myself included before this experience, might’ve just seen a typical wedding reception with a few decorations and mementos scattered throughout the space, she had transformed it into a time capsule of Jeremy and Hannah Stone’s lives. I’d never met either of them, but through personal touches such as childhood photos and fun facts about each of them on chalkboards along the buffet line, Elliot made the space theirs.
Elliot did a double take and froze when she caught me with my phone up, snapping a shot of her humming along to the music playing through the speakers as she worked. “What’s that for?”
I shrugged. “Maybe I just want you to see what I’m seeing.” I pulled up the photo and walked toward her, holding my phone out for her to look at. She was focused, wearing an effortless smile that made me wish I could read her thoughts. “At the risk of sounding like a crazy stalker, I could watch you work for hours. Your passion is obvious, and it’s really inspiring to see, El. I don’t know that I’ve ever witnessed so much consideration and thought put into every detail of an event.”
Her face contorted into an almost-grimace. “You make me sound OCD.”
I quickly shook my head and snatched my phone back before she could try to delete the photo. “Nah. It’s more like you turn your job into an art. It’s a compliment. Trust me.”
Elliot tilted her head back, and the lights above us reflected like tiny little sparklers in her eyes. “You know, it’s funny, I actually had the same thought when I was watching you at the inn.” She paused and stepped close enough for me to notice the way her icy irises had melted, darkening into the last shade of blue in the sky before sunset. “Your talent is rare, Bryce, and denying the world of your gift would’ve been a crime. I’m really glad you followed your heart and stayed in Seattle after college. But selfishly, I’m also glad you came back.”
“Seattle gave me more than I could’ve ever imagined or expected, and I’ll never regret my time there. But I realized how much I missed living here. I used to trick my brain into believing home was a state of mind, that if I could build a life around my professional success, Washington would feel like home. Turns out that’s not the case. At least not for me.”
“I guess that makes sense. Though I didn’t really peg you as the ‘home is where the heart is’ type.”
"I, uh, wasn’t until about a year and a half ago." I hesitated and pressed my fingers into the back of my neck again, this time to relieve the tension. After a beat, I cleared my throat, finally summoning the courage to tell her about Peyton. “There’s actually something I need to tell you…” I trailed off when I realized a sudden downpour of rain had hijacked Elliot’s attention.
“Wow, it’s really coming down out there. Okay, sorry, what were you going to say?”
I shifted on my feet, summoning the courage that had disappeared with the rain’s arrival. “Early last year, I got a phone call and found out—”
CRACK! The rest of my sentence was drowned out by the roar of lightening somewhere outside.
“What?” she asked. Before I could answer, her eyes grew round, and she shoved past me, moving toward the door. “Shit! My windows are down!”
I chased after her, muttering a string of curses under my breath. Not because I was worried about getting my clothes wet. Or even the possibility of being struck by a billion volts of electricity.
Because I just told her about my daughter, and she couldn’t fucking hear me.
Nine
Elliot
“Sophia! What did you do with my leopard print Toms?” I shouted into the apartment after hastily dropping my bags on the dining room table.
No answer.
I don’t have time for this.
The wedding ran longer than I'd expected, so I only had about twenty minutes until Bryce was supposed to come pick me up.
I kicked off my heels and trotted over to bang on Sophia’s door. “Soph, I need my shoes!”
Milo’s door opened, and he poked his head out. “She’s at the library, but I saw her go into your room before she left.”
“Was she wearing my leopard print Toms?”
He shrugged. “What do I look like, the fashion police? I don’t notice that shit.”
I groaned and walked toward my closet.
Milo followed behind and leaned against my door frame. “Don’t you have, like, forty pairs of shoes?”
I groaned again, annoyed at his inability to understand female logic. “It’s times like these that make me wish you were gay. And not just any gay—the kind that would understand and help with fashion dilemmas.”
“Uh, sorry I’m not into dudes? But I don’t need to be gay to solve a nonexistent fashion dilemma.”
“What? You know what other shoes would pair perfectly with this outfit?” I asked, turning and holding up the pair of white cutoff shorts and a black tank top.
“Yeah. These.” He held up the very shoes I’d been searching for. I went to take them, but Milo pulled them back. “Wait. Where are you going? You never go out after a wedding.”
“How do you know? You’re usually at work or out when I get home. Maybe I’m a wild party
animal when you’re not around.”
Milo had the audacity to laugh. “We both know you’re not. Mild party animal, at best. Plus, you always come to the bar when I’m working if you go anywhere. What's up?”
“I'm going out.”
“With Bryce?”
“Fine, yes. Hey, you’re a guy,” I said, narrowing my eyes in contemplation. He might be able to help me settle something.
“Last time I checked,” he replied, pulling on the waistband of his shorts to look at his junk. “Yep, Excalibur’s still there.”
“You named your—never mind. This. This is why you’re single, Milo.”
“Nah. I’m single because Excalibur is very friendly, and monogamy is not the way to make new friends. But I doubt that’s why you pointed out my gender. What’s up, El?”
“Should I be concerned that Bryce practically jumped at the chance to ‘take things slow’ with me?” I asked, using air quotes. “I kind of brought it upon myself, but what if that means he isn’t attracted to me?”
Milo crossed his arms over his chest and eyed me skeptically. “I’m not an expert on dating, by any means, but I can tell you that he wouldn’t be taking you out if he wasn’t interested. And he’s an idiot if he’s not attracted to you.”
“How can you be sure? What if he’s just trying to be friends again?”
He held a hand up to shush me. “Did he call this an actual date?”
“I’m not sure. He said something about our next date though.”
“Then he definitely wants in your pants. Don’t worry about it. This trepidation and wavering self-confidence isn’t like you, El. What gives?”
Damn it. He was right.
“I don’t know, Mi. I think it’s Bryce. I usually have a fresh slate when it comes to dating. I think our past history is throwing me off. Everything with him is…different now.”
