by J. M. Maurer
He chuckles again, making the noise I completely love. Though, watching him, I’m not sure he’s actually buying my comment.
“Is that right?” He picks up a fried squash blossom that’s stuffed with ricotta and then appears to swallow it whole.
“It’s fun to see how people who don’t have to maintain a certain image behave,” I say, and watch as he licks away a bead of melted cheese lingering on his lips. “Based on some of their actions, I’m not sure they’re aware of what they’re doing in the heat of the moment.”
Eli wipes his hand with a napkin and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His gaze on mine, he trails a slow path along my jaw with his fingers. My skin tickles as he gently caresses my face. “I suppose not. In the heat of the moment, I guess just about anything is possible.”
He lifts my chin and connects his lips with mine.
“Makayla. Eli.” Mom’s upbeat voice fills the suite in an obvious effort to make her presence known. She clears her throat and tosses her coat to a chair, as I reluctantly force my lips off Eli’s.
Mom sidles over to first tap Eli’s cheek with a motherly kiss, then moves in to do the same to mine. Dad, decked out in a blue pinstripe Oklahoma City Thunder polo that complements his blue-gray eyes and salt-and-pepper hair, squeezes in behind her.
After a quick hello, Mom turns to Dad. “Michael, this is Makayla’s boyfriend, Eli Barringer.” She shoots Eli a warm smile.
Heat rushes up my cheeks as I hear my mom introduce Eli in that way to my father. I like how it sounds, but up until today it really wasn’t the truth. I’m not sure how Mom knows, but I’ll have to grill her a little later.
Eli takes Dad’s proffered hand and their bonding process begins. “Mr. Stan. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You have a wonderful suite and I’m honored to be here this evening.”
Dad drapes his arm across Eli’s shoulders and leads him over to the wet bar. Although they have moved several feet away from me, I can still hear what they are saying. Dad assures Eli there is no need for formalities and that calling him by his first name is more than okay.
“Now the Mrs.,” Dad nods to Mom, “she’s much more cultured than I am. I suppose it’s the long line of attorney blood she’s got in her.”
Dad is full of it. Eli might not know it, but I do. Like me, Mom admires how humbly Dad carries himself. You wouldn’t immediately think “man of riches” just from having a conversation with him on the street, but the truth is, Dad was born into money. With his futuristic vision, old money quickly multiplied into new money. He’s mastered the art of business, turning millions of dollars into billions, while learning to leave the stress of his job behind, where it belongs. So when it comes time to play, Dad plays well and knows how to have fun.
The longer I watch him talk with Eli, the more it becomes evident they are both enjoying the conversation. I don’t have to worry about Eli; Dad will more than take care of him.
Beside me, Mom goes to work dishing out four plates of food, just like she always does shortly after everyone has arrived at the arena. As for drinks, Dad pours himself and Eli each a beer, leaving Mom and me to fend for ourselves. It doesn’t bother me. I can get my own drink, and I know with certainty my mom can too.
Dad holds up his glass to Eli. “Makayla drools over this fancy drink they make here. I suspect she won’t mind if we have a toast. Eli, I’m glad we’re not playing Cleveland, but here’s to one heck of an excellent evening.”
Eli clinks his frosted mug against Dad’s, then downs a healthy swig. While Dad entertains Eli at the food table, or maybe it’s the other way around, Mom sits next to me in the row of stadium seats at the front of the suite. Since I’ve not been able to figure out how she found out about Eli and me, I’m ready for answers and decide it’s now or never to confront her. But first things first.
“Mom.” My tone is slightly hesitant, despite the fact that I really need to get what’s been bugging me for years off my chest. “This mamma bear thing you’ve been doing with me since I was born, I’d like for you to stop. I get why you do it, but I’m not a little girl anymore.”
“Makayla,” Mom says, drawing out my name, coupling it with her signature look that says here comes the truth, the whole truth, and, so help me God, Momma Bear’s infinite truth. “You’ll always be my little girl.”
“And I’m okay with that. But I’m not okay with being told what to do.” It’s one of the reasons I left Oklahoma and took off with Caleb to Cleveland. “You have to understand that I’m grown up and capable of living my own life now. And making me think Benji’s not been well just so I come home—even you have to admit that was pretty low. Do I even have to ask you about Sam?”
Mom lets out a breath, her shoulders deflating right along with her lungs. “You’re right, using Benjamin was wrong, and I’ve been paying for my overbearing mothering since the day you told your father and me about moving to Cleveland. My heart shattered at the news, and knowing a big part of you was doing it to get out from under me made me feel that much worse. I couldn’t bear thinking about you being so far away, alone. So yes, I paid for your driver, but as your mother, I needed to know someone was there to look out for you, since I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you beforehand. Old habits really are hard to break.”
I tilt my head and flash her a look that offers up some semblance of sympathy. I’m not a mom, but over the years I’ve tried to understand her needs, though I’m sure I won’t fully understand them until my arms hold a baby of my own. Even so, it’s time that she started respecting my needs.
“I really am sorry.” Mom gives my hand a squeeze. “I never meant to push you away. And in case you’re wondering, let me assure you I had nothing to do with you landing your job. Now, I promise I’ll work harder at standing back and watching from the sideline as both of my baby cubs grow into the beautiful women they each wish to become.”
Those are the words I’ve needed to hear. “Thank you, Mom. I promise I’ll make you and Dad proud.”
“Sweetheart, you’ve long since been making your father and me proud.”
I lean in a little closer and settle into the cushioned seat, hoping this moment kicks off the kind of relationship every daughter dreams she’ll one day have with her mom.
Recognizing the grace and elegance within the lady who has, in ways, molded me into the woman I’ve already become, I take in the way the soft lines around her eyes deepen as she smiles. Her proud expression strengthens the bond I feel growing between us.
“Is that how you knew I work with Eli? Through Sam?”
As if surprised I’ve even asked her such a silly question, she giggles and shakes her head. “Sweetie, I haven’t seen you in eight months. I know how to log on and stream your station’s news. I mean, I might be old, but I still consider myself rather resourceful.”
I don’t quite follow her logic. “What’s all that got to do with knowing about Eli?”
She sucks in a quick breath. “Have you not seen yourself on TV?”
I shake my head. Replaying old video after several hours at work isn’t something I’ve given any thought to. And now that she has mentioned it, I’m not sure I ever want to.
“Honey, it’s obvious how you feel. You’re in love with him.”
My heart skips several beats and then pounds hard against my chest. I somehow manage to straighten my spine as a warm rush of blood moves throughout my body. I’m hot. Way too hot. And my body temperature continues to climb out of control. For the moment, I forget about my conversation with my mom and instinctively move my line of sight to the one thing that has been a constant on my mind.
Meeting Eli’s gaze, I notice his lips; the way they curl up at the edges always seems to so easily charm me. But am I already in love with him? We were merely friends until a few hours ago, when he kissed me.
I smile back and make a halfhearted attempt at returning my full attention to my mom. I lean in close, grazing my shoulder against hers, and bring my voice
down several notches. “He’s a coworker,” I say loud enough for Mom to hear over the pre-game music blaring through the speakers. “Isn’t there some sort of law against fraternizing with a coworker?”
She tips her head and turns to me with furrowed brows. “There are instances, yes. You’d have to check your company’s policies. Most of the time, fraternization policies are put into place to prohibit upper management from preying on employees who are lower in the company’s organizational chart, most specifically direct subordinates. I take it you and Eli met on the job?”
I nod.
“Well, even so, many companies require their employees to disclose any romantic involvement with another employee. In addition, there are forms specific to office romances, which require both parties to state what kind of relationship they are in. You most likely also signed paperwork pertaining to the company’s policies on discrimination and sexual harassment. These forms are meant to protect you, Makayla. Not that I think this will happen between you and Eli, but when an office romance fails, the proper paperwork on file can help keep both of you from being terminated.”
Mom pauses, giving me a moment to digest her words. I glance back at Eli. He seems content with the conversation he and Dad are having, none the wiser to what Mom and I are talking about.
I cross my arms, lean my head against Mom’s shoulder, and wonder why growing up has to be so complicated. “Mom, how do you know I’m in love with him?”
She takes my hand while both of us stare down at the court. “That’s simple, dear. I see it in your eyes.”
“We really were just friends, you know.” I lift my head from her shoulder and meet her gaze. “Until today.”
“Until today.” She lifts a sculpted brow.
“Yes, today. Today I let him kiss me.”
“And you kissed him back?”
“I couldn’t wait to.”
She squeezes my hand and squares her shoulders toward me. “My professional advice. You two need to find out if your company has any such paperwork regarding office romances, and sign it. Then enjoy being with each other. He clearly has the same feelings for you.”
“You think?”
“Yes, dear. I do.”
I search her eyes and vow to no longer contemplate each and every hurdle I might face as I enter into a workplace romance with Eli. “So what do you think about him?”
“Well, I have hardly had time to get to know him. But I see the way he looks at you. If you love him, as your mother, I am sure I will love him, too.”
“Even if he’s not a social elite?”
“Makayla, you still have so much to learn. What makes you so certain he’s not?”
I stare at my mom, taking a moment as we stand and face the flag while a woman begins singing the national anthem. The voice seems far off in the distance, even though I know it’s being piped in with precision through each speaker throughout the arena.
“Makayla,” Eli says from behind us, the instant the anthem is over. His soft tone cuts into my prolonged thoughts about what my mom said.
I turn to meet large brown eyes that tell me he’s exceptionally excited.
“Your father has offered to take me to see the control room. Would either of you like to come along?”
Thrilled for Eli, I shake my head with a smile. “Been there. But you two enjoy.”
“Will do. You need me to pick up anything on our way back?” He looks at Mom. “Carolyn, anything for you?”
I shake my head again, seeing Mom do the same.
“You two go have fun,” she says with a wave and a smile.
“Dad,” I call to his back and wait for both him and Eli to turn around. Once I have Dad’s attention, I blow him a kiss, then add, “What Eli really wants is to get his hands on a camera.”
Dad slaps a hand to Eli’s back like any father would do to his son. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll take good care of him.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I grin, then shout once more, “Make sure you bring him back.” I’m in love with him.
Dad nods. Eli grins.
Mom gazes down at center court from her seat beside me. “Yes, my beautiful darling. You most certainly are in love with him.”
I smile through a burst of happiness.
For the entire first half of the basketball game, I wonder if my dad is ever going to bring Eli back. They’re gone so long I almost call in a search party. Would do it, too, but my focus is commandeered by a persistent incoming fire of random questions from both Mom and Celia about Eli.
Their inquisition comes as a bit of comfort. Turns out I rather enjoy telling them what few secrets I have about my relationship with Eli. But Wyatt doesn’t seem all that thrilled about the current conversation. His expression the moment he and Celia arrived at the arena told me that he wished he could excuse himself from the chick-fest and go with the guys to the control room.
When Dad and Eli return, Celia whips out her phone to capture the evening with some photos. Once she says she’s happy with what she’s got, we enjoy the rest of the game.
In the car on the way home, Eli teases me about having some competition. Apparently he thinks being adept at using a phone for selfies is a Stan family trait.
Back at home, we inch up the main staircase, neither of us ready to call it a night. But after a long goodnight kiss on the second-floor landing, we reluctantly decide to part ways for the evening. After Eli disappears around the corner of the last flight of stairs, I bounce off to my room, stuff a few articles of clothing into my dresser drawers, and revisit many of the precious moments of the day. I didn’t bring much with me, but didn’t need to. My closet is still full of outfits I left behind when I moved to Cleveland with Caleb.
I run my finger along the shiny red paper of a small gift I brought for Eli and toss a couple options back and forth in my mind as to when I should give it to him. After tidying up the bow, I set it down at almost the instant I hear a ping from my phone. I fish my phone out of my purse and smile at the screen.
ELI: Found your eighth grade yearbook. Trying to decide which pics I’m going to post.
I feel the smile slide off my face and my mind bolts to a number of unsightly pictures Eli could have in his hands. But there is no way in hell I’ll let him post any of them to social media. I tap out a reply faster than a hummingbird flaps its wings.
MAKAYLA: Over my dead body.
I hit Send and just about crap my pants as another message pops in.
ELI: Bingo. Got one that’s perfect. And now I have a picture to go with your epitaph.
I can’t type fast enough, and my phone pings again. This time it’s an alert that an email just popped in. Since I’m more concerned with texting Eli and the pictures he’s got his hands on upstairs, I make a mental note to check the email later.
MAKAYLA: Don’t make me write yours.
ELI: Is it going to be Miss Scarlet in the tower with a candlestick?
A small part of me wants to laugh, but I’m growing more and more nervous with each second that passes, envisioning a slew of awkward and homely photos of me as a teenager.
I really hope he hasn’t found those photos.
MAKAYLA: You’ll find out soon enough.
ELI: How about now?
I don’t even think on this one and toss my phone to my bed. As late as it is, I’m not about to pass up spending more time with Eli. Plus I need to make sure he’s just teasing me about posting my photos.
As quickly as I can, I slide into a pair of plush sleep pants and fuzzy cotton socks. The pants are clearly made for lounging—not sex—but I adore them nonetheless, and finish off the ensemble with a long-sleeved heather-gray knit top. After tossing my bra to my bed, I loosen a couple buttons at the top of my shirt. Liking what I see in the mirror, I smile, twist my hair up into a messy bun, and give my girls a little jiggle. There. That oughta do.
Snatching up Eli’s gift, I head out of my bedroom and bolt up the main stairs, taking many of the steps two at a time.
Once I’m upstairs, my feet glide over the plush carpet in the library as I find Eli looking all kinds of sexy. Dim light flickers around him as heat from the crackling flames in the fireplace makes me think about all things romantic and cozy.
He’s leaning back against the cushion of the oversized sectional couch. With his arms up and his hands tucked behind the back of his head, his snug white T-shirt has moved several inches up his torso. I lock in on a narrow band of hair trailing down from his rippled abs and follow it to the black cotton waistband resting low upon his hips.
Appearing relaxed, he has his long legs stretched out. Resting comfortably at the edge of the coffee table, his bare feet jet out from his black cotton sweatpants. Taking him in, I nearly miss the shadows from a couple dozen candles in various shapes and sizes as they flicker along the wall, almost dancing in perfect rhythm with the soft piano chords and the smooth voice of John Legend singing “All of Me.”
I’ve forgotten all about yearbook photos and any awkward poses he might have seen. Instead, I can’t wait to get to Eli, run my fingers along his abs, plant my lips on his, and maybe even tousle his hair. For certain, I’ll tell him how much his romantic gesture pleases me.
As I round the corner of the couch, I catch a whiff of Eli’s fresh clean scent that coalesces not only with the aroma from the candles but with the hint of pine from a Christmas tree sitting in the far corner. I draw in a slow breath, thinking the upstairs has never smelled so amazing, and toss him a quirky smile as I arch a brow.
“So where are these photos, and is that a mix of cinnamon and vanilla I smell?”
Eli smiles, his eyes growing wild as they scan up my body. He opens his arms and welcomes me in with an affectionate kiss to my forehead. “I’ve already posted and put them away.” He winks, and then scans my legs, giving my dark gray pants quite a thorough inspection. “What took you so long?”
“I was just giving you enough time to make the tower all beautiful and romantic.” I snuggle in beside him, making certain to keep his gift tucked safely at my side. “I love it, by the way. Thank you.”
