by J. M. Maurer
“Right. My epitaph. I almost forgot.”
“Actually,” he says, moving toward me, balancing both drinks in his hands, “I thought I could get to know you better by playing a game.” He places the drinks on the coasters I set out on the coffee table and seeks my gaze. “I brought Clue. I wasn’t sure if you had it.”
“A board game? You want to play me in a board game?” If so, he’s the one that is going to find himself in trouble.
“It’s not just any board game. And I figured you might want to practice your detective skills before your untimely death on Valentine’s Day.”
I toss him a half-grin. “Okay. Game on. But just so you’re aware, you’re not going to win.”
“I’m not here to win a board game.” He pins me with a heated stare that tells me exactly why he’s here.
He’s here to be with me.
Immediately, my body responds. My arms feel lighter. It’s as if some of the stress I’ve been carrying around the last several months has lifted off my shoulders.
I more than like what I hear in his words, and love the way he looks at me and slowly broadens his grin.
“You grab the game,” I say. “I’ll clear off the table.”
Eli agrees and heads off to his backpack while I pull a beanbag that normally resides unused, off in the corner, to the coffee table. After moving my laptop and a book I’ve been reading to the bottom of the table, I settle into the cushy seat and gesture for Eli to sit on the couch. With him across from me I’ll be able to look into his eyes and watch the way his many emotions change as he plays.
While I was growing up, my mom always said, “Look for a man’s true heart within the wrinkles around his eyes.” Since Caleb did his number on me, it’s been important that I be able to look a man in the eyes.
With the board game in his hands, Eli sits on the couch, makes easy work of sorting the cards, placing the weapons, and setting up the rest of the game. I haven’t played Clue for a while, but given my situation at work with Ed, I’m confident I can handle a few hours of investigating Colonel Whomever, in a room of fancy trinkets, with a deadly weapon of choice.
What I’m not certain of is my ability to not constantly stare at Eli, and I know that if I can’t keep my eyes off his sexy frame, I’ll be the one to “do it.” Right there on the floor. In the living room. With him.
Now I’m hot, and I give a gentle shake to the glass he’s filled with ice cubes and what looks like tea. The coolness from the glass seeps into my fingertips, but does nothing for the rest of my body. Needing to cool off, I place the rim against my lips and draw in a hefty swig. To my surprise, I feel my eyes grow wide and my throat burn with a familiar strong flavor. But oh my, the mix of lemonade, tea, and vodka hits the spot.
I close my eyes for a moment and savor a fourth flavor I like but can’t quite discern. I lift my lids to examine the drink, but find my sight momentarily caught on Eli’s eyes.
He lifts a brow. “You like, Miss Scarlet?”
Do I like? Heck yes, I like. Even more, I’m overjoyed he didn’t call me Red. I do, however, contemplate whether I should be upset that he’s spiked my drink or thrilled that he concocted something that tastes so dang good. I choose the latter; I’m too excited to object.
I bat my lashes and bring on a healthy dose of Southern wit. “Whah, Professah Plum.” I revert to my Oklahoma drawl. “Y’all didn’t tell me you were not only the best cameraman in these parts, but also a mix mastah.”
“The professor likes to show, not tell.”
Heat from his stare singes my skin, making my body feel like a firecracker that’s about to explode. Before that can happen, I take another hefty gulp and hear my phone ping from somewhere nearby. Doing the un-Southernly thing, I choose to ignore my phone, because much like Rhett Butler said, frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.
Eli points to the cushion next to him as he glances down at my phone. “You going to get that?”
If he were referring to the fire extinguisher, I might ask him to help me out. As for my phone sitting right next to his leg, I shake my head. “Later. You’ve got a lot to learn about me. And the clock is ticking.” I wink.
We start a game and my phone goes off a few more times, but I’m too enthralled with getting to know Eli to find out who is calling. We go back and forth answering questions as if we have only a few hours to absorb each other’s entire lives. It doesn’t take long for me, however, to discern that Eli has absolutely no mastery of the detective game we are playing. I beat him twice. Easily. And because of that, I don’t feel the need to beat him a third time.
I pack up the pieces and put the game aside as Eli flips through the small collection of movies I have. Sometimes I find it hard to pass up a five-dollar bargain at the store. I could stream a show if he prefers, but as it is, Eli seems intrigued. He’s camped himself on the floor in front of my TV and every now and then, he tilts his head like he’s thinking. Eventually, he turns to face me and lifts one of the movies out of the shoebox.
“Please tell me you’ve seen this.” He shows me the cover, but since I haven’t yet removed the security film it takes on a glare from the recessed lighting above.
I scoot closer for a better look and see what appears to be a hint of sadness in Eli’s eyes. He hasn’t shown this sort of emotion since he watched me split up the roses and put them in the plastic cups. “Hey, something wrong?”
He shakes his head, his expression still obscured in thought. Eventually he softens his features and graces me with a slanted grin.
Not sure how to approach him, I decide to move on, lift the movie from his grip, and turn it front to back. A story about a baseball team and an owner who plots to keep them at the bottom of the standings so she can move the team from Cleveland to some place warm and full of sun sounds kind of interesting, though not as interesting as sharing a bowl of popcorn with Eli while cuddling next to him on the couch.
“I haven’t seen it. Yet,” I admit, politely handing it back, every ounce of my being secretly hoping he’ll tear off the film covering and pop it into the player.
But as if contemplating another decision, he studies the case, then turns to put it away. Sadness washes over me as he runs his fingers through his hair.
A phone pings again, this time with a slightly different chirping sound. Eli pulls his phone from his pocket and checks it out and the line between his eyes deepens the longer he peers at the screen. After a moment, he meets my gaze and cups my cheek with his hand.
“I hate to have to go, but something’s come up.”
I scan the table where our glasses now sit empty. Eli’s quite a bit larger than me. Is it possible he isn’t feeling the same effects from the alcohol as I am? I can only hope that’s the case, along with trusting that whatever has caused him to leave isn’t anything exceptionally serious.
Despite the concern written all over his face, I’m not ready for him to leave. A selfish side I didn’t know I had inside me kicks in.
“Maybe you should stay a little longer. I’ve got your favorite panini and chopped salad waiting for you in the fridge.” I’d bribe him with everything I have, if I thought it’d get him to stay. “And it would probably be good to flush your system with a little water before you leave.”
With that, I’m certain I sound like his mother. I don’t care. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something tragic were to happen. After all, I’m fairly certain he not only came over to get to know me better, but to help me forget about my meeting with Ed. Though we never really got around to talking about it, I’m confident he somehow knows what happened.
Eli gazes at me for a moment, his lips lifting in that way I love. “I’ll be fine. But thank you for offering.” He pinches my chin, then tosses his backpack over his shoulder. Glancing down at the board game on the table, he cocks his head to the side, and then replaces his earlier expression of worry with one of confidence. “Mind if I leave that here?”
“Not if you don’t m
ind coming back sometime soon so I can kick your butt again.”
His smile grows wide, giving me a glimpse of the soft lines at the edges of his eyes. “Can’t wait. I’m more than looking forward to it.”
“You want me to do what?”
Mom sighs. “Bring him with you.”
“I can’t do that. I hardly know him. And we’re just… friends.”
“Makayla Renee,” my dad says, his soft tone chiming in through the speaker of my phone. “You know you can’t possibly win an argument with your mother.”
I roll my eyes, even though I know my parents can’t see me. I was just about to ask Mom to put Dad on the phone to verify with him who the woman on the other end of the line was, but given that he hopped into the conversation on his own, there’s no point.
It isn’t unlike my mom to constantly tell me what to do. But bring home a man? That is new.
“Am I hearing you right? You want me to bring Eli home? For my pre-Christmas visit?”
“Yes,” my parents utter in unison.
Dumbfounded, I sit on the edge of my couch and close my eyes. Taking a moment, I inhale the lingering scent I know is Eli’s. My apartment smells like the morning dew as it lifts during a beautiful sunrise. For the first time in a long time, I feel content and let my thoughts move deeper in regard to Eli.
“Makayla,” Mom says softly. “Honey, are you still there?”
My eyelids fly open as the sound of my mother’s voice brings me back to the strangest conversation I’ve ever had with her over the phone. I know Dad is right about arguing, but still. “Yeah. I’m here. But I’m not bringing Eli home.”
“Why not?” Mom says, her tone sounding heartbroken. “We’d love to meet him. Are you sure you can’t get the time off at Christmas?”
“I’ve already told you my boss emphatically said no. Trust me, there’s no way I’m asking him again. And I’m not bringing Eli home because he’s a coworker. And we’re just friends.”
“Makayla.” Mom releases a hefty breath. “I know you didn’t want to tell us what happened between you and Caleb. And that is fine. Actually, your father and I are glad you got rid of him. But you haven’t called home in eleven days. Sweetheart, I could be a thousand more miles away and know exactly the reason. If it’s not this Eli who has thrown your schedule out of kilter, then what is it that’s keeping the daughter of mine who usually checks in once a day from at least texting her mother?”
Oh, I don’t know, Mom. There was this major snowstorm. I’ve got the most ridiculously crabby boss. The station I work for barely has a budget. And I just about got myself fired.
I can spew off a few reasons to try to placate her, but my mother already knows the truth. Portraying the facts in any other way would simply be lying.
“Besides,” Mom continues, “this will be our first Christmas without having you here. Please try to understand. We miss you and just want you here. Your father has already made the arrangements,” she adds, not missing a beat. “I’ll have Adalyn email you the details. In the meantime, you get your Eli packed up and we will see the two of you when you get home. Oh, and go gentle on Benjamin. He has not been feeling so well these days.”
“Benji?” I straighten my spine, growing even more concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s nothing to worry yourself with, Makayla. But your father and I have to get going. Your sister will be arriving soon. She can’t wait to see you, and misses you as much as we do. Okay. Got to get. Your father is tugging on my arm. We’ll see the two of you next Monday. Love you.”
“Love you too, but wait! How did you know—” I get in, unable to add about Eli, as three high-pitched beeps inform me that my mom has put an end to our markedly unusual conversation.
Great. Not only is my boss hanging up on me, but my mother is now doing it too. What I find even more disturbing, yet in a rather pleasurable way, is how the anticipation of bringing Eli home is already wreaking havoc on my cardiovascular system. I work to calm the pounding in my chest and wonder if Eli will even be able to go.
Late last night, hours after he picked up the call and had to leave, he texted to inform me the cameraman who usually covers sporting events is in the hospital, recovering from a more serious coronary event. Because of that, and until further notice, Ed has reassigned Eli to man the camera for the sports crew. It’s a great opportunity for Eli, since this is exactly where he has always wanted to focus his career. I can’t help but be thrilled for him, even though it means he will no longer be my cameraman. That is, assuming I will even need a cameraman, and Ed decides to send me back on scene.
I bite down on my lip as the thought crosses my mind that it may be a while before that happens again. At least Eli and I still have the same work schedule, which will certainly help make it easier getting together with him. I let out a short chuckle and shake my head. As if our “getting together” should even be happening.
I know I shouldn’t be going down that path, but the excitement of my parents’ proposal is making it impossible for me not to wonder what it would be like to bring Eli home to Oklahoma. It would certainly be… interesting, to say the least. But will he be able to go? Will he even want to go?
Since a part of me tingles in heated anticipation at the thought, I mull over several ways to spring travel plans on him, knowing that if I want this to happen, I’m going to have to spring them on him soon.
I give it a mental go.
Hey, Eli, wanna go to Oklahoma with me? It doesn’t sound right.
Hey, Eli, got any awesome plans you wanna break next week and accompany me to my parents’ home in Oklahoma? Nope. Too wordy.
Hey, Eli, Mom and Dad want to meet the man who’s going to father my kids. Would you want to hop a flight and spend some pre-Christmas time with my family and me in Oklahoma?
I laugh at myself. Father my kids? Ha! It does sound the closest to the truth, at least for how I’m feeling at the moment, but for obvious reasons, I can’t go with that one either.
I give it more thought and then pull out my phone and compose a rather long text.
MAKAYLA: Eli, it’s your lucky day. I just got off the phone with my parents. They figure since you’re going to be writing my epitaph that you should come home with me next week to Oklahoma. This is your chance to see firsthand what’s made Makayla, Makayla. We leave Monday. Text me if you’re in.
I stare at my phone for a minute, then hit Send before I can second-guess what I’ve written and chicken out. As much as I want to be able to stop following my mother’s orders, I really do want to bring Eli home. My mother means well. She has just made it her mission to organize and plan my sister’s and my lives. She isn’t anything like Ed.
Still, I’m more than ready to find my own way and become a self-sufficient woman.
Ping. It’s Eli.
ELI: How are you getting home?
MAKAYLA: We’re flying.
ELI: Did you already buy my ticket?
MAKAYLA: No. My dad did.
It seems like I sit forever in silence waiting for his next reply. Nervous about what he might be thinking, I shoot him another text.
MAKAYLA: You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. I know the holidays are coming up and I sprang this on you pretty last minute. I’ll understand if you can’t make it.
Though in some strange way I feel like I really won’t understand, and neither will my mom.
ELI: How much is my ticket so I can pay your father back?
Yes. At least he is going.
MAKAYLA: You don’t have to do that. My parents sort of insisted.
ELI: Insisted? Are they always like this?
MAKAYLA: Come home with me and find out.
ELI: I’m a little afraid.
MAKAYLA: Of…
Silence. I hate silence, especially as my anxiety ramps up to an intolerable level while I wait for Eli to reply. All sorts of things he could be afraid of enter my mind. I just hope that being with me isn’t one of them. Thank
fully, my phone pings again.
ELI: I’ve never been on a plane.
Relief lifts my spirits as I exhale a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding in. A plane? I can deal with that. I’m just thankful he isn’t afraid my dad will shoot him with his rifle the instant he arrives or he hasn’t changed his mind because he doesn’t really want to go—with me.
I type in two replies and send them in rapid succession.
MAKAYLA: I’ve never been on a plane either…
MAKAYLA: …with you.
I hold my breath, again, waiting for his reply, and run through several ideas to help him manage his fear of flying. I can hold his hand—from takeoff to landing.
Thinking of how lovely that would be, I hear my phone ping.
ELI: Okay. I’m in and looking forward to it. How should I pack?
MAKAYLA: You fold your clothes and zip them up inside a suitcase.
Smiling, I add a winky emoji and hit Send. When he doesn’t respond right away, I shoot him an offer I hope he can’t refuse.
MAKAYLA: Or you can just pack your things with mine.
ELI: And risk your father shooting me before V Day? Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll bring my own bag.
I knew it; he is afraid of my dad. I also know I can halt any future concerns he has on that.
MAKAYLA: I’m pretty sure Dad is all out of bullets. Don’t worry. He’s going to love you.
How could he not? Eli is gorgeous on the outside, like most of the guys I’ve dated. But on the inside, Eli is a man. A gentleman. There is no way my dad won’t see it. But Mom? My seven-day forecast is set at a one hundred percent chance that she is going to eat him up.
Shopping. Cleaning. Laundry. Snow removal. More shopping. Work.
It always amazes me how quickly a week can go by when I have so much I need to get done, yet how slowly time passes when I’m forced to sit and wait for the real excitement to come.
Eli’s been busy all week working on a secret project he refuses to tell me about. For all I know, he could be gearing up for our trip. Since I don’t want to make him any more nervous about flying home with me, I haven’t pressed the issue by asking. As it is, it turns out to be a good thing that I have a boatload of things to accomplish before heading off to Oklahoma.