by Alison Ryan
As the flight attendants went over their banal instructions, one of them caught his eye. Not because she was attractive, although she was in the generic way many of them were, but because she triggered a memory in him. When she walked past he craned his neck for a look at her name badge—“Kelly.”
The light bulb went off in his head forty-two pages into The Prince of Tides.
If Kelly was available, and game, he had a plan in mind. It was time to fix the damage he had done. With the grandest gesture he could come up with. Ellie was worth it. He just hoped she still felt he was worth it, too.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Meg and Ellie strolled into Pope’s BBQ, a Conyers institution where they could be found most every Wednesday evening after work.
Live music, half-price “hump day” appetizers and pitchers, and mouth-watering brisket drew a crowd from all over Atlanta. Taking up residence in their customary booth just to the right of the stage, the friends settled in to commiserate about annoying coworkers, Bravo’s Real Housewives, and Meg’s ongoing love-hate relationship with Daniel from Edinburgh.
The band milled around on and near the stage, having finished tuning their instruments but not yet scheduled to being their set, the music in the room still coming from Pope’s famous jukebox.
Their waitress, “thank God Brianna and not that bitch Angela,” remarked Meg, took their drink orders and disappeared from view. A blonde approached the table from behind Ellie and leaned in close, her British accent as out of place in a Georgia barbecue joint as a plate of sushi.
“It seems we’ve overbooked this section, or made a mistake with the seating assignments, and we have a group who find themselves seated in separate booths. We were hoping, since it’s just the two of you, that you might consider moving to the table in the corner over there,” she pointed across the crowded room, “and joining the gentleman in the green shirt?”
Meg and Ellie made annoyed eye contact with each other. “Listen, we come here every—”
Meg’s protest was cut off by Ellie. “Shut up. Shut up, Meg. Holy shit. Are you kidding me?”
Ellie looked at Meg in astonishment, then at Kelly, whose smiling, flight-attendant veneer had vanished beneath a smile of genuine joy.
“If it’s all right, I’m going to sit here with you—Meg, is it? And you can give me a primer on Southern food, American beer, and Georgia boys. These two”—Kelly pointed across the room at a ruggedly handsome man sitting alone at a table and then back to Ellie—“have some catching up to do.”
Patrick had the eyes of the room upon him. He wasn’t recognized by anyone as Patrick Sievert, soccer star, but everyone witnessing his easy gait, piercing blue eyes, and sculpted physique glide across the room were impressed, even star struck by him. He stopped at the jukebox briefly before approaching Ellie and Meg’s booth.
As he walked, the verses of “Living and Living Well” filled the room, a song describing a perfect life incomplete without someone special there to share it.
“George Strait helped bring us together. I’m hoping he can do it again. Hello, Ellie. I’ve missed you. Think we might go somewhere and speak in private?” Patrick extended a hand toward the love of his life.
Ellie stood and the two embraced, Patrick whispering into Ellie’s ear, “I’m so sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life and I’m here to fix it, if you’ll let me. I don’t deserve it but I’d do anything for you to take me back anyway. I’ve been a damn mess since I let you go. Nothing has been OK and nothing will be again until I can be back in your heart.”
Kelly slid into the open side of the booth, explaining to Meg that, “Patrick has set up a tab for us, whatever we want to eat or drink.”
Meg began to rise, but Ellie held up a single finger to stop her short.
“Meg, this is Patrick. Patrick, Meg.” Ellie introduced her man and her best friend. “Oh, and this is—”
“Kelly, I’m Kelly.”
“Right, Kelly. She was . . . Patrick, I don’t know how you did this . . . but she was on my flight to Scotland, she was the one who relocated me, who moved me next to Patrick.”
It was Meg’s turn to hold up a finger to silence Ellie. The pitcher had arrived while introductions were being made, and Meg needed a drink, immediately. She filled and downed glass of craft beer while the rest of the group watched in amusement.
“OK. Let me get this straight. This is Patrick. This is my new friend Kelly. And the two of you are what, going back home to ‘get reacquainted?’ Just like that? While Kelly and I eat and drink as much brisket and as many pitchers as Brianna can bring us?”
Ellie locked eyes with Patrick, broke into a grin, and nodded enthusiastically.
Meg looked Patrick up, down, and back up again, looked at Kelly, mulled it over a moment, and spoke.
“Els, I hate you even more than I thought I did. Patrick, thank you. Kelly, welcome to Pope’s.”
Ellie laughed and bent down to hug her best friend. “I love you, too, Meg.”
********
Maisie took an immediate liking to Patrick, giving him slobbering kisses and treating him as human furniture—the same way she treated all her loved ones (She whined and scratched at the bedroom door while the two lovers renewed their physical relationship, but she was too adorable not to forgive). Patrick told Ellie about his trip to Senegal, the epiphany sparked by his conversation with Mr. Seck, and about his mother defending Ellie when Patrick asked her opinion regarding continuing or postponing their relationship. He explained to Ellie that he’d gotten his priorities in order; that she deserved to be his main focus, that he’d never again consider her a “distraction.” All his cards on the table, Patrick professed his love for Ellie and invited her to join him that weekend on a trip to Berkeley County to meet his “momma” and visit his hometown.
He made a point of describing a walk down a dirt road he hoped they could take together.
“A dirt road you say?” Ellie asked, a smirk on her sweet face.
“Yep,” he smiled. “A place I might have dreamed of a time or two. Would you join me, my Ellie?”
Ellie didn’t have to think twice about it. She had always known, after all, that she would have joined him anywhere. For the first time in her life, she was able to shut out the thoughts that she didn’t deserve this. And with that, she took Patrick’s arm, knowing she would never let go of it again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to my husband. You make it so easy for me to do what I love to do. I appreciate you daily. You’re the best human being I know. I’m your Ellie and you will always be my Patrick.
Thank you also to the readers of my books! None of it would matter without you. Thank you for taking the time to enjoy my stories. I will never take that time for granted and hope I can always give you something to get your mind off the stresses of everyday life.
And to my children. This is all for you.