His voice was firm, without even a pinch of warmth, but Elliot didn’t flinch. “Yes sir, that’s right.”
“Bah!” he exclaimed, letting go of Elliot’s hand, and taking an aggravated puff from his cigar. “You’re living with my daughter in sin, that’s what you’re doing.”
Elliot straightened his shoulders, but didn’t blink. He looked over at Fe, as though asking her what to do, but she was speechless. She knew her father would be upset, but she never expected this reaction.
“Mr. Porto,” Elliot began again, his voice strained. “You’re right,” He nodded. “I should’ve come to you first. But I never knew I’d feel this way.”
Mr. Porto turned to Elliot, an edge of curiosity making his eyes soften. “And what way is this?”
Elliot glanced over at Fe. “I love her.”
Fe choked on air, grabbed Elliot’s wine, and downed it again. What the hell was he doing? Part of her though he may even get down on one knee and propose. She placed her hand on top of his, squeezed his fingers in a silent message to dial things back. But it was too late. Her father was right there, curiosity in his eyes, and there was no way she could raise the white flag now.
Elliot turned back to her father, his shoulders square. “She’s stubborn, there’s no doubt about that. She’s opinionated, lord she has an opinion about everything. But I love coming home to her every day.”
The way he said it, with the conviction in his voice, without even a hint of hesitation, made her swallow. She knew he was playing the part, but there was a hint of truth to his words that almost made her believe him.
“I love hearing her awful voice when she sings in the shower.” He continued. “I love the look on her face when she eats something sweet.” He straightened his shoulders again. “And I love how she makes me feel about myself. How she makes me forget my head sometimes.”
Her father laughed, adjusted his stance, and set down his cigar.
“She makes me happy, and I hope that even though I’m late in asking…” He dropped his hands to his sides, and stared straight at Mr. Porto. “Sir, with all due respect, would it be alright if I dated your daughter?”
Fe was speechless. Even though she knew it was for her father’s benefit, she’d never had someone do that on her behalf before. And she’d never seen her father so speechless.
Her father set both hands to the top of Elliot’s shoulders and searched his eyes. “She’s stubborn, yes. She’s opinionated, but she has one of the softest hearts you’ll ever know in your life.”
“I know that, sir.”
Mr. Porto closed his eyes, nodded, like he was suddenly quite emotional, and took a step back. “You found a good man, Fe,” he said to her.
She nodded, her mouth suddenly dry as she looked over to Elliot. “I know.”
Chapter 30
Without effort, Elliot charmed the pants off of every single one of her family members. Her aunt Maria, who sat in his lap as she blew out her birthday candles, and little Ella, who held onto his fingers, and pulled him out to the dance floor so she could dance on his feet. But it was her parents’ easy acceptance that most surprised her, because she always thought it would be harder for them to see her in a relationship, let alone welcome him with open arms.
But her mother talked his ear off almost all night. About cooking, and gardening, and other domestic things that Elliot loved to do. And her father kept shooting her little glances and nods of approval everytime they spoke. It was charming really, to watch her two worlds collide like this. To see her family welcome so easily the man who had been her best friend for half a decade.
Now it was the end of the night, most people had gone, and she stood at the bar with Craig, feeling especially tipsy. It was times like this, when it was especially quiet, that she let her mind think inconceivable things. Like—what if Elliot were her real boyfriend, and not just a make-believe one? What would it be like to have someone love her like he pretended to?
She imagined parties like this one, where little girls fell in love with him, and lined up to dance on his feet. Or maybe they’d have their own children? Maybe they’d have a little girl, with big blue eyes, and a wild curiosity.
Fe bit her lip, just as her aunt Beatrice joined Elliot on the dance floor, cutting in line between him and poor little Ella. She laughed, almost spitting her drink when Ella stomped off the dance floor toward her mother. And then, as though twenty people weren’t sitting around watching, Elliot started dancing the twist, right there, full force, like no one was watching. His heels digging into the ground, his body dropping low, before he twisted up again. Like he wasn’t in a room full of practical strangers. Like he didn’t have a care in the world.
“It’s good to see you happy,” Craig said, his back pressed into the bar beside her.
She turned toward him, realizing she was smiling, and cleared her throat “He’s such a dork,” she said, shaking her head as she took another sip of wine.
Craig nodded agreement, raising his glass in a silent tribute. “I would agree with you on that one.”
“I mean, what’s he doing?” She giggled. “Is that the running man?”
Craig took a sip of his drink, narrowed his eyes, and stretched his feet out in front of him. “I’m pretty sure that’s the Kid n’ play.”
Fe licked her lips, barely containing her laugher. “I swear, he has no shame.”
Craig smiled. “Sometimes, I wish we were all like that.”
Fe’s brows lifted, and she studied her brother. “Like what?”
“Like I didn’t care what others thought of me.”
Fe frowned, then lifted her eyes to the dance floor. The music had changed, shifting to something with more of a rhythmic beat. Before her eyes, her aunts started to shout, then all of a sudden, a line gathered behind Elliot. Beatrice, Faith, Gloria, and little Ella, all hooting and hollering and dancing the Conga.
“Oh, dear lord!” Fe said out loud, before covering her mouth. “I can’t watch!” She turned in the opposite direction, causing Craig to chuckle. “Tell me when it’s over,” she screeched.
Without moving from his spot, Craig leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I hate to tell you this, sis, but I think they’re coming for you.”
Her back stiffened, and she flipped around, just as Elliot beckoned her with the crook of his finger.
“No,” she mouthed, but her eyes were dead serious.
His grin only widened, and he beckoned her once again.
“Nuh-uh,” she said louder, but her words were nil, because nothing was stopping this guy, who had the backing of her entire family. With brows set with determination, a smile that was so wicked he could charm the panties off a nun, he came toward her. One foot in front of the other, his hands rolling to the rhythm of the beat.
When he was only a foot away, he stopped. “Dance with me,” he demanded. His voice low, and full of texture.
She looked around the patio, shaking her head, but there were no words of support to greet her. In one evening, he’d stolen the hearts of every single one of them. Every traitorous person out there.
Her aunt Maria eagerly nodding her head and poked her cane in Elliot’s direction. “Dance with him, Meu amorzinho. Don’t break the poor man’s heart.”
Fe grinned, pushed from seat, and peeked down at little Ella, “Should I?”
The little girl nodded, and the whole crowd erupted in unison. Her aunt Beatrice pushed her toward Elliot, and Fe grabbed hold of his hips. Laughter and cheering ensued, and she could hardly believe this was happening.
He began shifting his hips left and right, until everyone at the party began cheering and chanting. She followed after him, as he wove her round tables, the bar, her aunt Maria. But she loved every moment of it, even though she was pretty sure it was one of the craziest, silliest, and most childish things she’d ever done in her life.
She didn’t care what she looked like. She didn’t care that people were watching, or how stupid she appeare
d. She was just dancing, with her whole heart, and her whole body, and it felt amazing.
Then all of a sudden, the music changed, and everyone started leaving the dance floor. She took a deep breath, dropped her hands to her sides and started walking toward the bar again, but Elliot’s hand on her hip stopped her. He flipped her around, took hold of her hand, and yanked her in toward his chest. “I heard something interesting about you tonight.”
She flattened one hand to his stomach, catching herself before she lost her balance. “Oh?” she asked, giggling. “What’s that?”
“I heard that you love to dance.” Elliot’s voice mimicked that of her aunt Maria’s accent as he cupped one of her hands. “How did I not know that about you?”
She grinned up at him. “Don’t believe everything they tell you, Elliot Prescott. My family are a bunch of liars.”
He chuckled, placing his hand on the small of her back before he started to sway. “Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Oh yes. Especially if they tell you anything about eggs.”
Elliot laughed, making his chest shake beneath her fingers. “I heard about that too.”
Fe bit her lip, allowing herself to enjoy the sound of his voice. “What did they tell you?” she asked, resting her cheek against his linen shirt.
“Well,” he began. “There’s a bit of a discrepancy. Some believe you collected the eggs to save the baby chicks. Other’s believe you were trying to make your own version of a stink bomb.”
Fe snorted. “Who said that?” But when she glanced up to his face again, she quickly realized Elliot had met too many people tonight to even have a chance at remembering who it was. “It was neither.” She confessed. “I wanted to hatch them in a nest I’d made in the field. Only I was never had patient enough to sit there long enough.”
He smiled down at her. “You don’t say.”
She pressed her cheek into his chest again and nodded.
“Is that where your Uncle Joe found them?”
“No.” She bit her lip, wrinkling her nose at the thought of it. “When I realized my experiment wasn’t working, I took the eggs to the garden and buried the evidence.” She closed her eyes, listening to his heart beat. “It was at the end of the summer, when my uncle tilled up the soil… that’s when he found them.” Elliot’s chest started shaking, and she grinned knowing she was the cause of it.
“He didn’t know what it was right away. He thought he’d hit a gas line.”
“Oh no,” Elliot chuckled.
“Yeah.” She giggled and looked up into his face. He was relaxed, comfortable, and perfectly Elliot. Just like the old him…before anything stupid had happened between them. “Thank you for tonight,” she whispered. “They all loved you.”
He shrugged. “Who could blame them, I mean, I’m a lovable guy.”
She knew he was kidding, but she hated when he joked like that. Because he really was lovable. He was…everything. “You are.”
His face grew serious, and he ran his eyes over her face. For the first time all night, really looking at her. “Thank you.”
Her heart thudded in her chest, and she realized that she never wanted this night to end. Her body close to his, his voice soft and low… being here like this with him was like a dream. A dream she didn’t want to wake up from.
Rolling out of his arms, she took hold of his hands and began pulling him toward the gate. “Come on. I want to show you something.”
He laughed, but didn’t hesitate in following her. “Oh yeah? What?”
She grabbed a bottle of wine from the bar as they passed, feeling almost giddy with anticipation. It was the end of the night, and everything had quieted. Most people had gone home by now, and those who were still around didn’t seem to be paying any attention. She felt very much like a kid again, one who was in the mood for mischief.
They ran down the stone staircase into total darkness, taking the steps as quickly as balance would allow. She’d lived here every summer of her life and could find her way around aunt Mary’s property blindfolded if she had to.
Elliot followed after her, down the path made of old railroad ties, to the back house where aunt Marie had invited them to stay. She then went farther, until they stood under a giant oak tree with a rope swing hanging from one of its branches. She assessed the magnificent tree, pulling in her first real breath in five minutes. “I made this,” she said, her voice quiet and slightly strained. “When I was eleven.”
She set the wine on a patch of grass, taking in Elliot’s amused smile, and pulled herself up on the ropes before pushing off.
It was one of her favorite places in the world, one where she did her best dreaming. She arched her back as far as she could manage, stretching her legs out toward the sky and inhaled. This night couldn’t be more perfect. The moon was full and bright, the stars visible as far as the eye could see. She looked down to the ground where Elliot waited and found him watching her.
“What?” she shouted down to him and she swung back and forth.
He scrunched up his nose and shrugged. “I didn’t know city girls built rope swings.”
She bit her lip, amused by his southern drawl, then kicked off her shoes before jumping down to the soft dirt below. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Elliot Prescott.” She boasted. Which was a total lie. Elliot knew most everything there was to know about her.
He laughed, took the bottle from the grass and took a large swig. “I doubt that.” he set the bottle to the ground again and hoisted himself up on the ropes.
“You’re brave,” she said teasingly. “You do remember it was built by a city girl, don’t you?”
He grinned sheepishly, then pushed off the ground, setting himself flying. “If you were anything I imagine.” He began pumping. “You probably spent weeks tyin’ those knots up there.”
She leaned back on the trunk, knowing it was true. She practically rubbed her fingers raw making sure they were just right. But the fact he knew that about her filled her heart with pride.
His hair had fallen loose around his forehead, making him appear almost childlike. Kicking forward and back, forward and back. She couldn’t stop herself from grinning.
All of a sudden, without warning, his feet hit the dirt, and clouds of dust billowed in the air around them.
She coughed and sputtered, waving the dirt away from her face. “What are you doing?”
But he only looked at her, his hands firm on the ropes. “Swing with me.”
It wasn’t a question, but more of a demand. She picked up the wine bottle and took another drink. “It’s not strong enough.”
He glanced up to the knots that were as big as grapefruits, then back at her. “Don’t be a chicken.”
He was right. There was no way in the world it wouldn’t hold them both. “The swings not made for two,” she called out instead, even as she set the bottle to the dirt and stepped toward him.
“Haven’t you swung grasshopper before? Come over here!”
She scrunched up her nose and took another step. “What are you talking about?
“Come on. Sit on my lap, straddle my waist like a bug.”
She laughed, but grabbed hold of the ropes, and hoisted herself up to thread her legs on either side of him. “It’s called a butterfly, Elliot. Not a grasshopper. And I haven’t done it in year—” But he pushed off in that instant making her scream. “EEEPP! Elliot! Not so fast!”
He only laughed. “You say butterfly, I say grasshopper, same difference.”
At first she was hanging on for dear life, only able to pray. But after a few moments her grip eased and Elliot began yelling to her. “Forward, now back. Forward, back.”
And she listened, sending them sailing even higher.
When he to-ed, she fro-ed.
When he leaned forward, she followed him with her whole body. It was magical.
The wind caught her hair, whipping it around them like a curtain. It was like their private little space, one that was left
just for them. If she’d been told an hours ago that this evening would have ended like this, she wouldn’t have believed it. But the truth was, it was soul freeing. Cleansing. Exactly what she needed. Everything had become so complicated back home, but now it all felt normal again. Better than normal. It was times like this, when they behaved like children, that she felt like she’d known him her entire life. Like he was there when she’d hung these borrowed ropes. Like their souls had known each other for eternity.
She pulled away from him then, leaning back so she could look at his face. His smile was boyish and wonderful, making her realize how much she missed him. “Can I ask you a question.” Her heart sped up a little when he looked at her with a calm, open expression.
“Shoot.”
“Why do you never talk about your family?”
His brow creased slightly, but he didn’t look away. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know…tell me about your mom, your dad.” Just verbalizing the question made her mouth go dry. She’d been wanting to ask him for weeks, but it never seemed the right time. Now it did.
“He’s a mechanic, him and mom were high school sweethearts—”
“Your real dad.”
His feet slowed in pumping, but then he picked up his pace again, this time maybe even faster. “I’m guessing Colton told you the story?”
She nodded. “He did.”
“And what did he say?”
“That your mom cheated on his father, that they were young, that your grandpa—”
“Sounds about right.”
She cringed, because she could tell he was trying to shut her out, could tell he was trying to get out of saying more. “But I really want to hear it from you.”
He searched her eyes. “Why?”
Because I want you to tell me everything.
Because I want to know your secrets.
Because you mean the world to me, and he means nothing.
“Because…I’d rather hear the story from you.”
He signed heavily, making both of their bodies shift… but then he spoke again, like he’d told the story a million times. It went mostly how Colton’s did. About his mom being lonely, about her being so young, but he left out the part about his grandfather finding her lover, and about Colton’s father raising him as his own.
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