by J. M. Maurer
Moving to stand, Caleb lifts his palms in surrender and smirks. With Ed and now Caleb’s antics under my skin, I can no longer restrain the massive baboon inside me that I’ve been holding at bay for months.
Choosing to deal with Eli first, I whirl around and shoot him a murderous glare. I need him to back off and let me unleash the fury I’ve got stored up in my being.
Eli meets my gaze and flashes me a serious look of concern, one that glows like a beacon in warning across his handsome, perfect face. The sight hits me hard, stuns me to my soul, and holds me captive, standing right there before him.
Lost in his eyes, I feel the anger that’s boiling away in my blood slowly begin to dissolve. And much like the change in intensity of winds as a massive tornado ropes out of the skies, I spin down, going from excessively infuriated to peacefully relaxed in a matter of moments.
I don’t know how I’ve switched so quickly. I’m merely happy I have. But how is it possible? And after seeing my temper, will Eli leave me like Caleb did or will he stay at my side?
In the moment, I don’t have the answers. I just know I’m no longer mad. I’m ready to pack up. I’m ready to go home. My storm of the century has passed.
As if aware of my thoughts, Eli leans closer and whispers against my ear; the loving tone serves as a reminder that it’s only his voice I will ever need to hear. “He probably has it coming to him, but this isn’t the place. Take my hand. Come on. You’re with me now, Makayla. Let it go and walk away.”
Staring at Eli’s proffered hand, I draw in a breath and drive out the lingering tension that’s settled deep inside my chest. Without looking back, I wrap my shaky fingers around his warm hand. After giving it a gentle tug, I lead the way back to the van. My mind wanders back to Caleb for the umpteenth time since he deserted me, leaving me wondering once again how I ever fell for such a man.
Although I don’t have the answer, there is something I know: I have one thing I love about Cleveland. And that one thing is Eli Barringer.
Sam cranks up the music as if attempting to cut through the depressing silence in the van, but despite the upbeat rhythm, the ride back to the station just isn’t the same. I suppose after my outburst with Caleb, nothing will ever be as carefree and easygoing as it was before.
I don’t dare open my mouth to ask Eli when he stopped filming. I’m much too afraid to know and far too humiliated by the thought of the entire show being caught on camera. The whole ordeal has me wondering what will happen next. What does this mean for Eli and me? What about my job? Surely he cut away in time. But what if he didn’t?
“Are you okay?” Eli doesn’t touch me, but the concern in his voice gives me the comfort his gentle hands normally would.
Something tells me he knows I’m still trembling inside from emotions I can’t get a handle on, that when it comes to Caleb Hagen I’m far from okay.
Because of that, I can’t bear to look at him and give him a straight answer. A shame I’ve never felt before overrides a deep desire to take what I need from Eli and curl right into his soothing arms. But God do I need to be held by him. I need him to tell me everything is going to be all right, and despite what he saw back there we are still and will always be “us.”
Take my hand. Come on. You’re with me now, Makayla. Let it go and walk away. His words from earlier enter my head and give me the courage to face the man I love.
“Please tell me you cut away in time.” My words exit my lips almost before I even realize I’ve said them.
Eli doesn’t answer, but I feel the muscles in his thigh stiffen under my palm. Maybe it’s because I touched him. Maybe it’s due to something else. Whatever the cause, despite my earlier fear, I need the answer to my question like a drug addict in search of her next fix.
“Please tell me.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice is whisper soft, and the apology is both unnecessary and unexpected.
My stomach rolls to life again. Why didn’t he stop filming? And why is he apologizing? I’m the one who lost all sense of professionalism and went off on Caleb. I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.
“I got caught up in the way you were looking at him,” he adds, as if reading my mind.
The way I was looking at him? I drop my gaze to the darkness of the floor. Clearly I’m still holding onto a deep-seated hatred for what Caleb did to me, and I can’t let it go. It’s eating away at my insides and making me detest Caleb more and more. I can only imagine what I must have looked like when I turned and found him there. I hate him. I hate what he did to me. And I hate that I still have any kind of feelings toward him that would evoke such a drastic reaction.
I want it to stop, but I don’t know how to right the extreme emotions I’m feeling—the anger, the humiliation, the regret—so I twist in my seat next to Eli and stare unseeingly out the window as the passing streetlights blur in the distance.
It’s all I can do for now, and the silence between us the rest of the way back gives me plenty of time to remind myself to let go of the pain I felt the day Caleb left me, and move on.
Somehow, and as Eli and I have done since our first live shot together, we manage to find our way to the café. The instant I slide into the booth, Stacie comes running. She scoots in next to me and then attempts to bump knuckles with Eli across the table. When he doesn’t meet her greeting, her broad smile slips clean off her pretty face.
Furrowing her brows, she twists to face me. “What a snowball fight. Those kids totally deserved it. But who was that guy?”
I rub my palms up and down my thighs and halfheartedly shrug. “That was Caleb. It’s nothing. Let’s forget about it. Okay?”
“The look on your face didn’t make it seem like it was nothing. What happened after he hit you with the snowball? All we saw was you turning to face him. That’s when the news feed cut out.” Stacie peeks over at Eli and frowns.
I follow her gaze, thankful that Eli at least cut the feed well before things got seriously out of hand. Eli doesn’t look happy, his eyebrows gathered tight as he crosses his arms. I know that look. He’s lost, far off in thought.
Stacie playfully bumps her shoulder against mine in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood. “Okay. Yeah. Anyway, there was a nice crowd watching tonight. I’ve lived here my whole life and didn’t know there was so much to learn about snow. You’re a natural, Makayla. Please tell us the rumors about you heading off to a bigger network soon aren’t true.”
I laugh nervously. Heading off? After my performance tonight, who knows where I’ll be heading. Off to bigger things? Ha! Like that’ll be happening.
“Rumors,” I say, since I’ve not heard a thing.
Obviously it has to be that. Just rumors. And rumors are not something I want to talk about tonight. Aside from Eli, I’m not in the mood for company. For once, I wish Stacie would get up and leave. Hoping to find a distraction from the events of the evening, I snatch a couple of menus from the ledge, slide one to Eli, and stare at the options I’ve long since memorized.
Stacie pats my forearm. “Umm. I think I’ll come back a little later.”
“Thanks.” I toss her a small smile and stare at the menu, bite my lip in contemplation, and quickly decide it’s well past time to apologize.
Lifting my gaze from my menu, I seek Eli’s gaze. “I’m sorry, Eli. I feel terrible. I’m not sure what came over me tonight.”
A long moment passes between us before the tense muscles in Eli’s face soften. “You snapped. That’s what happened. Now the question is, do you care to talk about it?”
I’m not sure I do. How do I talk to him about Caleb? And how do I even begin to tell him about what happened in my office with Ed? But there’s something about Eli, be it the tone of his voice, the caring look on his face, or the concern in his eyes. There is something remarkable about him that simply allows me to dig in deep and open up.
“I resent him. Have since that night I came home to an empty apartment.” I divert my gaze to the flames dar
ting from side to side in the fireplace, because I don’t want Eli seeing sadness in my eyes. “For the longest time I felt like he just dumped me here. Left me alone, a thousand miles from everything I’ve ever known. I could have packed up and gone home, but since I’ve also wanted to prove to myself that I could make it on my own, I stayed, hating him all this time for screwing me over the way he did.” I shift my sight back to Eli. “Does that make sense?”
“Do you love him?”
His question blows me back in my seat. After the time we’ve spent together, how can he ask me such a thing?
I fiddle with my hands in my lap, giving myself a moment to think, and then work my way from the past to the present, allowing myself to move through emotions I can no longer deny. I must have loved Caleb at some point and in some way. I’m sure I wouldn’t have moved to Cleveland if I hadn’t.
“He could have at least had the decency to end things with a proper goodbye.” I shrug. “Maybe that’s why I’m so mad at him.”
With the memory of that day still vivid in my mind, it’s no wonder I reacted like I did after running into Caleb. I’d found a letter, the keys to the apartment, and a receipt noting a year’s worth of rent had been paid. His go-the-hell-away remittance certainly ramped up my pain and suffering, and I took his pathetic payment as nothing more than another “screw you,” as though he were paying me off like the hooker he must have thought of me as. It was a dark time in my life, one that worsened the instant I learned of all the extra times Caleb had gotten laid.
And now Ed. My blood still boils when I think of him.
Eli studies my face. “Are you in love with him?”
I shake my head, certain I know the difference. “No. I don’t love him. I once thought I did. He took everything and left me with nothing but an empty apartment and a letter. I don’t think I’ve ever truly resolved the anger I felt that day. Until tonight. I should have handled it differently.”
Maybe even thanked him for, in a roundabout way, giving me… everything.
“Then why does any of this matter? Why waste a thought on the guy? The way I see it, it’s his loss and your gain.”
Eli’s right. I see it now. But the fact remains that when I saw Caleb at the arena, I completely lost it on him. Did I go ballistic solely because of what he’d done to me? Could some of my anger have been a byproduct of my battlefield of a job? Did it have anything to do with being in Cleveland?
I set aside my thoughts as Stacie returns and lowers a large tray to the edge of the table. She places two glasses of milk in front of Eli and me, and then slides an oblong bowl into the middle of the table. The bowl is handcrafted and painted with a Cinque Terre coastline of the Italian Riviera. The scene on the bowl makes me think of a peaceful day spent lounging out on a terrace.
I embrace a wave of comfort and lean forward to take a closer look. Two forks rest at the side of what looks like a cake formed into a small ball covered with what appears to be a layer of vanilla-coconut buttercream icing.
While staring at it, I feel Stacie gently palm my shoulder. “Dad made this after your epic snowball fight. He calls it The Makayla. I know you usually order an entree, but when I’m stressed out, I find Dad’s desserts always do the trick.”
I look up, meeting her soft smile, and paste on an expression of thanks.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, then gives my shoulder another gentle squeeze. “Eli, flag me down if you need anything.”
Eli grabs a fork as Stacie leaves, and stabs it into the cake. “Looks like a snowball. And knowing how well Vinnie can bake, if I were you, I’d dig in.”
“Before you eat my share?” I ask, my sullen mood making it easier for me to maintain a straight face.
Eli leans in, his eyes twinkling. “I hope to always be at your side, Makayla, sharing everything.”
I take solace from his answer, trying not to let my raw emotions continue to get the best of me. What I really want right now is to sit next to Eli with his loving arms wrapped around me. But I don’t dare ask. I’m still mortified by my behavior.
Eventually, my voice breaks, halting with each word I say. “We should eat this. You know. Before Stacie returns and eats it herself.”
“Or it melts.” He winks.
I sag against the booth. Eli’s giving his best effort to help lighten the mood, and I’m more than thankful.
His winks.
His grins.
His voice.
They instantly make me feel warm and safe—loved in a way I’ve never known before.
Eli glances at the bite on his fork. “Red velvet covered in coc-u-nut. Clearly made just for you.”
A laugh escapes me as I manage to smile. “Oh, so now you think I’m a nut?”
He shakes his head and waves the fork at me, moving it side to side. “No, I don’t think that at all.”
“You still want to call me Red, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t want that either.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Just you.” He shrugs, gazing earnestly into my eyes. “And some of this cake.”
I laugh softly. “Thanks, by the way. You know. For coming to my rescue. Despite my behavior tonight, you should know that I’m really not a troublemaker. Usually, I’m as sweet as they come.”
“And smart. And caring. And…” He trails off and darts his gaze from me to the cake, appearing to move through a series of emotions, none of which I can decipher.
Across from him, I sit and wonder what he’s left unsaid. I need to know. Is it good? Bad? Whatever is on his mind, he seems once again lost in thought because of it.
“And what?” I ask, hoping my question brings his attention back to me.
A substantial clang lifts into the air as Eli drops the fork to the bowl, then surprises me further by sliding into my side of the booth. With the soft light of the dancing flames in the fireplace, his eyes glisten as he takes my hand in his, gives my fingers a tender squeeze, and locks his sight on me.
His touch is gentle as he floats his thumb back and forth across my skin. My heart rate speeds up and my hands tingle under his touch. Not only do I need him to hold me, but I desperately want his lips connecting with mine.
As if sensing my needs, Eli scoots closer and moves to cradle my head. With his thumbs caressing my face, his touch is calming and feels so good.
My gaze on his, I forget all about the café. I forget that we’re seated in a booth, and that just an hour ago I was out of control and raging like a lunatic over some ridiculous guy named Caleb.
Closing the gap, Eli presses his lips against mine. Soft and slow, he tightens the seal and strengthens his hold at the back of my head. Lost in the kiss and consumed by his touch, I know he’s letting his actions speak for him. I don’t know how he does it, but I get the feeling everything between us will be more than okay.
In time, he breaks contact and places his forehead against mine. My mind travels back to the moment Eli appeared lost in thought. As our breaths mingle, I need to know exactly what’s on his mind. Why did he stop midsentence? Where did he go while he kept his thoughts to himself?
I start to ask, but don’t get the chance to speak, because like an incoming missile that’s been locked in on its target, the harsh tone of my boss’s scream vibrates directly toward me.
“Makayla!”
Immediately, the hairs on my skin lift tall. My body stiffens. My spine lengthens. My stomach rolls, nearly sloshing acidic bile up and out of my throat.
More than anything, I hate it when The General calls me to attention. Before I can even think about donning a sufficient amount of war paint to meet his approval, the belligerent commander with protruding eyes takes residence in Eli’s former seat.
Anger oozes out of every pore on his skin like fog lifting off a lake. His face is red. He’s substantially more agitated than usual.
Lowering my chin, I clasp a tight hold onto Eli’s hand. It’s too difficult to look at my boss, let alone
maintain any sort of eye contact with him. As numbness deepens within my chest, I brace for impact from words I know are coming. Unfortunately, there’s no amount of experience that could have ever prepared me for Ed Richardson.
“Strike two!”
His firm tone blows in at me from across the table and flips the switch that sets me off. I hold my breath as Eli’s hand curls to squeeze my thigh. His grip is firm, almost holding me down. I take his action as a silent plea to cool off, gain control of my actions, and sit quietly beside him.
I hesitate for only a moment. Then, as if gifted with the tactical mind of Stonewall Jackson himself, I lift my chin and level my gaze onto my boss’s.
“Sir,” I say, entering the Battle of Café Mangiamo. “I don’t play softball.”
Ed slams his fist against the table, the impact rippling its way through the wood. “I don’t give a damn, Makayla. And after that stunt you pulled tonight, you’ll wish you did.”
Squeezing harder, Eli practically cuts off the circulation in my leg. His grip is like a vise, certain to leave a nasty bruise.
Ed turns, lifts his fist, then jabs a stern finger in front of Eli’s face. “You’re as much to blame for this as she is. I don’t know what it is the two of you got going on here, but do either of you ever think?” Ed expels a hefty breath from his nostrils like a bull about to charge. “From this moment forward it’d do you both some good to start. Seriously, I should fire you.”
Ed’s threats set my heart quivering and my hands begin to freeze over. I’m stunned into silence, holding back a cannon of words I really want to fire at him. Somehow, after riding a wave of bile that’s burned the back of my throat, every word I’d like to scream rests quietly at the tip of my tongue.
Choking back the acid that’s leaving a nasty taste in my mouth, I draw in a breath and watch as Ed scoots out of the booth. I don’t want to make things worse, especially since I know Eli’s got student loans and other bills to pay, so I lock my sight with The General and opt to concede this battle.
“This is all my fault. I take full responsibility. If you’re firing anyone, it should be me. Whatever you do, please don’t take this out on Eli.”
