“No, I’m just grabbing my shoes from outside. I left them there to air out earlier this afternoon.”
“Ah, the vomit shoes.” I stepped out of his way while he moved onto the porch and grabbed his shoes.
He held them up for inspection once he was back inside. “Not too bad, right?” He lifted them to his nose. “They don’t . . . Okay, no, wait. They do still smell.” He wrinkled his nose. “I might have to declare them casualties of war and just get a new pair.”
“A new pair of Ferragamos? Seriously?”
He looked confused. “Is that a big deal?”
“Um, I guess not if you’re used to buying $700 shoes.”
“Are you for real?”
I raised my eyebrows. “You didn’t know you were wearing $700 shoes?”
“No! I mean, they just brought them into the dressing room before a performance a few months ago and told me to wear them.”
“So you just wear whatever they put in front of you?”
He shrugged. “I care about the important stuff, like whether or not I’m going to have a decent piano for performances. But I learned early on it was a lot easier to let someone else worry about my wardrobe.”
“It must be tough now that you’re living in the sticks and actually have to dress yourself.”
“Don’t judge. You’re the one who recognized they were Ferra-whatevers.”
“Fair point, but only because of my college roommate. Any knowledge I claim is only what rubbed off from her.”
Maybe it was something in the way he looked at me—his smile cocked just slightly to the side—that had me asking the question before I had the good sense to just go inside already and let our neighborly conversation end on a good note. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”
Elliott set his shoes on the floor beside his apartment door and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Sure.”
“I have this wedding thing.”
His eyebrows went up. “A wedding?”
My nerves were scrambling, and I started to feel sick. This was stupid. We’d had, what, two normal conversations? But the look in his eyes. He looked into me, like he wanted to know more. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s wedding. He and I are in the same chamber group, only temporarily because our cellist, Bruno, is out of town and Grayson is filling in. He plays the cello too, naturally, or else he wouldn’t be filling in . . . So he’s invited me to his wedding, and I kinda promised him I would be there. But I don’t really love the idea of going alone.” I realized, as the words tumbled out, that even a simplified, less drama-filled version of the truth was probably still too much information for Elliott. I could have made the invitation so much simpler. So I’m going to this wedding. It’s a free steak. Want to come along? Did he really need to know about Bruno’s travel plans?
“So you’re asking me to go with you?” Elliott leaned against his door.
“Yeah. Is that weird? It’s totally fine if that’s weird.”
He smiled. “It’s maybe a little weird. I mean, your ex-boyfriend’s wedding. Not exactly classic first-date material.”
Just the fact that he mentioned me in dating terms had me all kinds of flustered. “No, you’re right. But it wouldn’t necessarily be a first date. It’s not for another six weeks.” I cringed. I’d just implied I wanted to date him. That we would spend the next six weeks having multiple dates. “Wait, that’s not what I mean. I’m not saying I want to date you. I mean, I’m not saying I don’t want to date you. I’m just saying . . .” I shook my head, wishing I could erase the blush blazing on my cheeks. “Oh boy. I’m gonna stop before this gets worse.”
He smiled just enough for me to know he was about to let me down easy. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly I’m flattered you would even consider asking me. And if my circumstances were different . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. “Emma, I think you’re really great.”
I backed up a few steps and reached for the handle of my apartment door. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain.”
“But I want to explain. Things with my career are sort of complicated right now. I’ve got this album I’m supposed to be working on, and it really deserves my full attention. My agent was angry enough when I moved across the country. He made me promise I’d stay out of the social scene and just work. So that’s what I’m trying to do.”
I tried not to sound disappointed. “That’s an excuse I can totally understand.” I did understand. The ability to ignore the world and bury yourself in music was often the difference between someone who made it as a musician and someone who didn’t. Considering the unease he’d expressed in our conversation just after church, he probably had extra reason to focus on his music.
But the rejection still stung. I wasn’t so much disappointed because he’d said no as I was embarrassed that I’d asked him in the first place. It wasn’t like me to be so impulsive. I’d finally managed to start behaving like a normal person, and then I had to go and ruin it. I’m not saying I don’t want to date you . . . Sheesh. What was my deal?
Elliott reached down and picked up his shoes. “For real though, thank you for asking. I wish I could give you a different answer.”
“Don’t even worry about it,” I told him. “I’m sure I’ll work something out.”
We said good night, and I let myself into my apartment. Once the embarrassment of our conversation faded, one line kept repeating in my head. Emma, I think you’re great. He was probably just saying it to be nice, but there had been a certain sincerity in his eyes that made me wonder if it was more than that. And with the way we’d connected after church . . . I needed Lilly. She’d know what everything meant.
Chapter 12
Lilly wasn’t at home, which was weird for a Sunday night and annoying, considering how much I needed her to be around.
I tried to kill time reading a book but was distracted when Elliott started playing his piano. I moved to the wall and leaned against it, listening as he played. He was working on something new, that much was clear, with starts and stops and repeated lines . . . multiple starts and stops and repeated lines. It sounded a lot less like music and a lot more like he was trying to pound the piano into submission. I wasn’t an expert in composition, but in three hours of listening, it didn’t sound like he’d made much progress.
The piano was finally quiet just minutes before Lilly came through the door. The idea of hashing out anything Elliott-related was gone the second I saw her tear-streaked face.
“Lil, what happened? Are you okay?”
She sniffed and wiped her sleeve across her nose, a very un-Lilly-like thing to do, and collapsed onto the couch. “Trav and I had a fight.”
She reeked of cigarette smoke and beer—also un-Lilly-like—and I had to wonder where their argument had taken place. I went into the kitchen to get her a glass of water before sitting on the couch beside her.
“Here. Drink this, then talk.”
She took the water gratefully and gulped it down. “I’m a mess.”
“You are,” I said gently. “Completely. And you smell awful.” I reached over and pushed back the hair hanging in her eyes. “Tell me what happened.”
She sighed. “We were at the brewery over in Mills River. They were having this festival thing, and it was crazy. So many people.”
“On a Sunday night? Where do all these people work that Monday morning is an acceptable time for a hangover?”
“You sound like a Mormon, Emma.”
“I’m not judging. I’m legitimately curious.”
“Not everyone that goes to a beer festival gets hung over. Some people just go and drink a beer and then go home.”
“What, like ten, fifteen people?”
She smiled—that was good—and shot me a look. “Maybe twenty-five on Sundays.”
“Okay. So you’re at a not-everyone-is-drunk beer festival in Mills River with Trav, and . . .” I gave her an expectant look.
Her shoulders fell. “I didn’t want to be there. I told Tr
av I didn’t want to go. I have to work early tomorrow, and he was supposed to meet a whole bunch of his friends, and I knew what that was going to mean. I don’t love the combination of Trav and his friends and unlimited servings of alcohol. He gets so stupid. I just didn’t feel like babysitting tonight.”
I was looking at a different Lilly. She’d always been cool with Trav’s partying. Babysitting was more of an Emma word. “So what happened?”
“He begged me to go, and I finally caved, but then he just acted like a jerk all night. He kept saying I don’t like to have any fun and I ought to just live a little and I’m holding him back from the kind of life he really wants to lead. Which doesn’t make any sense. What kind of life does he want that he doesn’t already have?”
“Are you sure it wasn’t just the alcohol talking?”
“He was drinking, way more than normal. But you know Trav. He’s sometimes obnoxious, but he generally has good judgment, and he’s never rude—especially not to me. I just . . . I can’t figure it out.”
I thought for a moment. “I do know Trav,” I finally said. “And nothing he did tonight sounds like him. What’s going on at work? Anything stressful? Is stuff okay with his family?”
Lilly blinked. “I don’t know. He hasn’t said anything in particular. No, he did talk about work yesterday at dinner. Things are good at work. He just landed a new client that he’s crazy excited about. He’s building them an entire website from the ground up, and he says the payout’s gonna be huge. He was so pumped about it.”
“So work is good.”
Lilly rubbed her temples with her thumbs. “Please just tell me what you’re getting at. I’m so tired, and this is making my head hurt.”
“I’m just saying that for Trav to act so completely out of character and treat you so badly, there must be something going on that’s stressing him out. Those words he said to you tonight—that’s not really him. You know he doesn’t really feel that way, so what’s eating at him? My hunch is it’s something he’s not sure he can talk to you about, which means what he needs is for you to ignore all the crap he’s dishing out and be there for him anyway.”
“Just ignore the fact that he walked all over my feelings tonight?”
“Okay, don’t ignore that. He acted like a jerk and owes you an apology. But maybe also let him know whatever stuff he has going on, you’re willing to support him through it.”
She leaned her head against the couch cushion and closed her eyes. “You’re probably right. But . . . I’m kind of afraid to say this out loud: I think maybe I’m just tired of the entire scene, you know? I mean, I’m going to work every day, seeing these moms and dads that are starting this incredible chapter of their lives. And I want that. I think I’m ready to move on to the next part of my life, and I’ve got this boyfriend who thinks the only reason we have weekends is so he has an excuse to get hammered.”
I’d never had to hide how I felt about mindless drinking around Lilly—we’d known each other too long for that—but it wasn’t exactly the time to be preachy either. I reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “That’s a hard truth to realize.”
She sniffed. “Yeah.”
“Just sleep on it. Everything makes more sense after a good night’s rest. And then maybe you write those words down, the ones about moving into the next phase of your life, and when the time is right, talk to Trav about it. Maybe that’s what had him acting off. He’s feeling the same thing, and he’s terrified to admit it.”
“So tonight was all about denial?”
I stood up and retrieved her water glass from the floor. “Maybe. I have no idea how Trav feels, but I do know I’ve never seen him be anything but good to you. I’d give him the chance to explain himself. I’m sure he’ll want to.”
“He would kiss you if he knew how much you’re taking his side.”
I smiled. “Do you think he’d shave for me? I might need to borrow him for Grayson’s wedding.”
“You want to borrow my boyfriend?”
“Why not? I’ll bring him back in one piece.”
Lilly heaved herself off of the couch. “You’re completely hopeless. You still have weeks to get a date. You’ll find someone.”
“You’re right. I am hopeless. Which is precisely why I won’t find a date. Where did you leave Trav? Is he somewhere safe? Do I need to go pick him up?”
She pulled out her cell phone and swiped through a few screens. “He’s with Buster, and Buster isn’t supposed to be drinking, but . . . I don’t know. I’m not sure I trust him not to.”
I stood up and steered her to the bathroom. “Okay, you go take a shower. I’ll see if I can get ahold of Buster and find out if they need some help.”
She sniffed. “You’re a good friend.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I held out my hand for her phone. “Is Buster’s number in there?”
“Yeah.” She handed it over. “Thanks, Em.” She paused halfway to the bathroom and turned around. “Wait, what about you? How was church? Did you talk to Elliott?”
I tried to hide my smile, but she saw it, and her face brightened. “You did talk to him! What happened? Why are you smiling?”
“We had a really good conversation today. He helped me teach my Primary class, and then we talked about music, and I behaved like a normal, rational person. I think there was a little bit of a connection.”
“You mean, like, sparks-fly-at-his-touch kind of connection? Or just a we’re-both-musicians-so-there’s-lots-we-could-talk-about connection?”
“Both, maybe? No physical contact yet, so I don’t know if sparks will fly, but how could they not? You’ve seen him. He’s—”
“The hottest guy you’ve ever met. I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But remember you also said he was the most arrogant, condescending man you’ve ever met less than a week ago. Being hot doesn’t negate being a jerk.”
“True. But he’s not a jerk. I think I was wrong about him before.” I scrolled through her contacts and found Buster’s number, then shooed her away. “Go. Bathe. We can talk about Elliott tomorrow.”
It took three tries to get Buster on the phone, but only three seconds to decide there was no way he was driving anybody home. “Just stay there, all right? And don’t let Trav leave,” I told him. “I’m coming to pick you up.”
I pulled my jacket out of the closet and slipped on my boots.
“Emma, no. I can’t let you drive all the way over there to pick up my stupid, drunk boyfriend. That’s not fair.” Lilly stood in the hallway, wrapped in a towel.
“Yes, you can. My homeschool group cancelled our session tomorrow, which means I can sleep in, something you can’t afford to do. I promise I don’t mind.” I scooped my keys off the table by the doorway. “Go to bed. I’ll get Trav home safe, and then I’ll come straight home. It’ll be fine.”
She finally nodded. “I really do love you.”
“I know. Be back soon.”
I made it all the way down the front walk before I stopped dead in my tracks, an overwhelming sense of hesitation slamming into me like a wall of bricks. I was alone. And I was headed into the middle of a beer festival after midnight. It hadn’t occurred to me to feel nervous when I’d told Lilly I would do it, but now I was second-guessing. I’d never even been to the Mills River Brewery.
I backtracked onto the porch and pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. There had to be someone who could come along to help. The most obvious answer was Dad. He loved Lilly and wouldn’t judge her idiot boyfriend. But this late, there was no way he wasn’t already asleep. I hated to pull him out of bed. My finger hovered over his picture in my favorites list, indecision winning the moment, when the front door opened and Elliott stepped out carrying a bag of trash.
“Oh, hey. What are you doing out here?” he asked.
“I’m trying to decide if I should wake up my dad.”
“Everything okay?”
“No. Trav and Lilly had a fight, and he’s stupid drunk and c
an’t drive. I just had a conversation with the friend who was supposed to be the designated driver, and he’s totally wasted.”
“So you’re going to pick him up?”
“Yeah. And I’m thinking I shouldn’t go alone. He’s at this beer festival, and . . . I don’t know. He’s kind of a big guy. What if he isn’t cooperative?”
Elliott moved past me and dropped his trash into the can at the corner of the house, then turned around, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. “I could go with you.”
I looked up from my phone. “For real? I hate to ask that of you.”
“You shouldn’t go by yourself, and I don’t mind. Just give me a second to grab my coat.”
He emerged from the house moments later wearing a dark hoodie and a baseball cap pulled low on his head. He followed me to my car and climbed into the passenger seat.
“Thank you for this.” I looked over my shoulder and backed my car out of the driveway.
“No worries. I was awake anyway. Might as well be doing something useful.”
“Do you always practice at midnight?”
He grimaced. “Oh man. Sorry about that. I normally switch over to the keyboard so I can use my headphones.”
“It doesn’t bother me, and Lilly’s been complaining about my practicing since I moved in. What’s one more instrument for her to contend with?”
“Do you know how to get where we’re going?” Elliott asked.
“Mostly. Want to pull up your GPS just to make sure?”
Elliott pulled up the brewery’s address and started navigation, then set his cell phone on the center console between us.
“So tell me about Tahiti.” It was fun to see his face brighten when I asked him about his mission.
“Ahh, Tahiti. It was paradise.”
“I’ve seen pictures. It looks beautiful. You spoke French, right?”
“Yeah. And a little bit of Tahitian.”
“Tahitian? Is that similar to French at all?” I pulled the car onto the highway, which was almost completely deserted at this hour, and headed toward Mills River.
“Not even a little bit. It’s an old island language. It sounds completely different.”
Love at First Note Page 10
