by Katie Fox
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Very much so.”
“It’s Elle, please.” She smiled that breathtaking smile of hers, and the warmth of it wrapped around my chest. Micah felt it too. I saw it in his expression as Elle leaned closer to read the title. “I’ve read that series. It’s one of my favorites.”
His entire face lit up. “Really?”
We both watched in unison as she stabbed her fork into her meatloaf and brought it to her lips, talking around a mouthful of food and not even caring. I loved that about her—loved that she didn’t care about other people’s opinions when it came to how they perceived her.
“Yeah, really.”
“You love fantasy then? Like dragons and magic? Wow. I would have thought you’d liked those girly romance novels.”
Amused, Elle giggled. “I love all books, especially those girly romance novels.”
“Hey,” I cut in, ruffling my hand through his shaggy brown hair. “Don’t mock those girly romance novels. I’ll have you know they make up a large percentage of our profits.”
Micah rolled his eyes, clearly not the least bit interested. “Yeah, yeah.”
I glanced at Elle, and it were as if we’d been caught in our own little bubble. Finally, she broke the silence, but I had the feeling her words were intended for me and me alone.
“All books are great, Micah, but you see, in my opinion, it’s the romance novels that give the most hope. They make you want to believe in love and that despite how hard life can be there is someone out there who is meant to live it with you, to experience all the ups and downs and all of the challenges it decides to throw at you.”
“And do you have someone?” Micah asked, without any forethought. “Do you have someone to live it with, I mean?”
I think I sat more on edge waiting for Elle’s response than Micah. Her answer didn’t interest him; not really. He was just a horny sixteen-year-old kid hoping to live out a fantasy. I, on the other hand, was desperate for that hope she was talking about, the hope that was sitting right in front of me, but one I’d never reach for and take.
Those big blue soulful eyes met mine, and they held every part of me in their gentle embrace. “Not yet, but I will one day. I know it. I feel it.”
She feels it.
She went back to eating her food, and I glanced away, sitting there speechless.
I feel it, too, Elle. I feel it, too.
Holding the door open, I waited for Micah and Elle to step out of Rosie’s. Despite the cool breeze blowing in the air, the night was warm and the sun hadn’t fully set in the sky. Standing beside Elle, I watched as she dug through her purse in search of her Chapstick, and I struggled to find words and a reason to keep her from leaving. I wanted to thank her for her company and allowing Micah and I to invade her booth, but I was also dying to tell her I wanted more of her time. I wasn’t ready to part ways.
“Owen. Do you think we can go to Central Park for a little while? I really don’t want to go back to the…” He gave me a look, one that asked for silent understanding. “Well…you know.”
I nodded. “Yeah, of course, man. Whatever you want to do. Do you need my phone to call your mom and let her know you’ll be late tonight?”
“Please.” He waited as I reached into my pocket and pulled it out, handing it over to him. Right before he turned away to make the call, he stopped and glanced at Elle. “Do you want to come with us?”
My heart beat faster at his question, and I laughed internally at the entire situation. This kid had more guts than I did when it came to women, or in this case, one in particular.
Elle smiled kindly at him, her eyes darting to mine as if to reaffirm his offer. She must have read the answer in my gaze because she said, “I’d love to.”
Once Micah made his phone call, we grabbed the first cab I successfully waved down and headed for Central Park. I paid the cab driver, and we managed to narrowly dodge the ever-insistent carriage ride and bike rental offers as we weaved around and blended in with the healthy mix of residents and tourists who were out to enjoy the beautiful early summer evening. Quietly, the three of us strolled side by side along the paved path, drinking in the scenery and the peaceful atmosphere. After several minutes, Micah ran off, climbing one of the many rock formations that seemed to be an attraction all on their own, and Elle and I sat on a nearby bench.
Subtle hues of pink and orange painted the sky, and it was only a matter of time before a blanket of glimmering stars shone through its inky black canvas and the path lights illuminated. Although come to think about it, the stars were near impossible to see from the city. The bright lights had a way of washing them out, but simply knowing they were there, even if not entirely visible, was satisfying. As we sat in silence, we both looked around at the life milling about. A couple lay together in a hammock they hung between two trees, their bodies entwined in a loving and affectionate way, and while Elle’s stare lingered on them, I wondered what thoughts were forming in her mind.
Did she want that? A love that was easy and carefree? A love that promised forever?
Of course, she does, Owen. What woman doesn’t want a love that promises forever?
I gave my head a little shake, putting the questions to rest, and turned my attention to Micah. He wore a smile on his face, and for a moment, I was taken back to my youth. I used to climb the same rocks, wear the same happiness that was clear in his expression, and it hit me all at once. How quickly time passes. How we grow older without even realizing it. How we take every single second for granted.
How had I allowed my life to slip away from me?
“It’s truly amazing what you do for them, you know.” Elle’s voice cut through our silence, and I glanced over at her. She was so close. The sweet smell of her perfume, the lavender and mint scent I’d come to recognize as uniquely hers, wafted in the air around us, and I closed my eyes, inhaling discreetly. “You may not realize it, but you’re changing their lives.”
A sound erupted from my throat that dismissed the praise in her voice. “Please don’t make me out to be a saint, Elle. I’m simply trying to give them hope, that’s all.”
“I know, and that’s what makes you a good person, Owen. I wish you’d let more people see the good you do.” Elle shifted a little, her nearness creating a warmth between our bodies that I wanted more of. Why did I crave her so much? I turned to look at her at the same time she faced me. “Why don’t you let people in? Why don’t you let people see the real you?”
I opened my mouth to say something and then closed it, reconsidering my words.
The real me. They did see the real me. Every day. This was simply the new version of myself. The broken-beyond-repair version. I held her gaze, knowing she saw right through me, the sadness that constricted every part of my being, making it hard to breathe, to think, to react. I decided to give her my response in a language I’d hoped she’d understand. “‘It’s much better to do good in a way that no one knows anything about.’”
As soon as I said the quote, recognition soared across Elle’s face. It wasn’t a surprise. She was a reader, a romantic. Her love for literature knew no bounds.
“Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy.”
I smiled and nodded, amazed by her. “Can’t say it was my favorite novel, but some words tend to stay with you forever.”
“They do,” she agreed, before rattling off a quote of her own. “‘Life appears to me too short to be spent nursing animosity or registering wrongs.’”
“Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë,” we both said in unison, a huge chunk of my manliness stolen from me in admitting to reading such works.
“I didn’t peg you as a Brontë fan, Mr. Caldwell.”
“I’m not.”
Elle grinned, and as we continued the game we seemed to be playing, taking turns with our favorite quotes, waiting to see if the other knew the authors and books they belonged to, I realized we’d fallen into a world of our own. Being with Elle was easy. I could sit in her company fo
r hours, lost in her smile and lost in her eyes and the way they lit up every time she looked at me. Her laughter soothed the ever-prevalent ache living in my chest, while simultaneously creating a new one.
Our hands rested on the bench between us, inches from each other’s, and as Elle traced lazy patterns on the wood, it took everything in me not to take her fingers in mine and lace them together. I wanted to, badly. I wanted to touch her, to tell her she amazed me and that I’d never met another woman as incredible as her.
Millie’s words surfaced in my mind.
It’s okay to like her, Owen.
It wasn’t liking her that scared me. It was falling in love with her that did.
I STOOD AT terminal C6, my hands in my pockets and the strap of my laptop bag swung over my shoulder as I waited for Elle to arrive. Our flight was set to board in approximately fifteen minutes, and I paced the floor in her absence, my gaze darting in every direction, searching for her thin frame and headful of blonde hair. Flying wasn’t exactly an enjoyment of mine to begin with, but the thought that she might have changed her mind about accompanying me wound up my nerves to the point of distraction. Attending the conference this weekend was optional, and I wouldn't hold it against her if she decided not to come, but I had done this for her. It was an opportunity to get her feet wet and meet some of the top players in the industry. It was a great place to put a name to a face.
And if I was being damn honest with myself, I wanted her by my side, more than anything.
Sighing my disappointment and frustration at her lack of punctuality, I pulled my cell phone from my jacket pocket. I scrolled through my long list of contacts, and as I stopped on her name, the familiar smell of her perfume wafted to my nose. I lifted my head quickly, holding back the urge to smile at her sudden appearance.
Out of breath and her chest heaving, Elle stood in front of me, her hair wet and her hand curled tightly around the strap of a small carry-on bag. “I’m sorry I’m late. I know you asked me to meet you here twenty minutes ago, but I had an issue with my landlord, and then on top of it all, the taxi I hopped in broke down.” She laughed, biting down on her lip and shaking her head at her impossible luck. “Figures, right? Leave it to Elle Callihan to get into the broken taxi when she’s meant to be somewhere important.”
She continued to ramble, and I let her, captivated by the way her arms moved animatedly and her voice held a bit of excitement as she spoke about mundane shit. How did she do that? How did she bleed life and passion into mediocrity?
Without thinking, I smoothed my fingers over her cheek to brush away a few strands of wet hair clinging to her face. She stopped talking the second my skin touched hers, and her eyes flashed to mine, the sparkling blue pools full of wonderment. The hollow dip at the base of her throat moved on a swallow, and her mouth parted.
I resisted the urge to drag my thumb across the fullness of her bottom lip and instead swept it over the curve of her jaw before pulling away. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Elle didn’t reply. A red blush colored her cheeks, and she pressed her lips together, shoving her hands in the front pockets of her jeans and rocking forward on her toes. Her gaze drifted around the packed terminal gate, the people sitting in chairs with their eyes glued to their electronics and the others who sipped on coffee or stared blankly into the distance. “I have to say I’m a bit surprised.”
“Surprised? Surprised how? At what?”
“This.” She waved her hand around in the air, and we both moved from where we stood, walking to an empty row of plastic seats and sitting down until our flight was called for boarding. “I would have thought you owned your own private jet or something.”
Amused at her assumption, I laughed. “Why the hell would I own my own private jet when I hate flying?”
Elle shrugged, unfazed by my confession. “All the more reason to, I guess.” When I said nothing, she continued to elaborate. “Obviously you hate it because you’re afraid of crashing, right? Think about it. If you owned your own jet, you’d be in charge of hiring the pilot and the mechanics. You’d have all the control, which I’m learning quickly is how you seem to like it.”
Smirking, I licked my lips and shook my head, a puff of air leaving my nose. I did like control. She wasn’t wrong in that respect, and lately I craved it more and more because everything else about my life was so out of my control. Resting my hand on my knee, I turned to look at her. “I think you’re in the wrong career field, Ms. Callihan.” She belonged in law or somewhere she could put her arguing to good use.
Elle paused, considering my statement, and then shook her head in disagreement. Her eyes bored into mine, doing what they always did—stealing my thoughts and my ability to breathe. “No. I think I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.”
I held her gaze, torn between looking away and not looking away, and as we sat silently in what seemed like our own little bubble, my mind took me back three weeks ago: to the feel of her lips on my skin as we sat outside of the bridal shop and how desperately I wanted to take control of that moment—take control of her. Had I, I wouldn’t be sitting here wondering if her bite was as vicious as her bark and if her body would come alive under the feel of my hands the way it did when she spoke, so passionate, so intense.
I had done my best to avoid her around the office but only because I needed to put my focus back on the things that mattered, and unfortunately, Elle Callihan wasn’t one of them.
She could never be one of them.
“Attention, passengers. We will start the boarding process for flight four-three-six-one. If you are a business class pass holder, group one, please make your way to line A. We will also be boarding disabled passengers and any passenger who is active duty military at this time. To ensure quick and easy boarding, we ask that you please have your boarding passes ready. Thank you.”
Both Elle and I stood, and I waited for her to walk first, my hand coming up with no forethought from me and resting in the small of her back as we made our way over to the line we’d been instructed to join. If my hand on her affected her in any way, she didn’t let on. She held her phone out, allowing the airline attendant to scan her electronic pass, and started down the jet bridge.
I pulled in a deep breath, my anxiety already getting the better of me as the attendant scanned my ticket and I followed Elle. Her hair swayed against her shoulders, and as we approached the plane, she turned to look at me, a beaming smile on her face.
“Coming?”
“Yeah. Right behind you.”
We boarded the plane, moving along the narrow corridor that housed the attendant station and then into the designated area that made up business class. Elle turned at the waist, looking at me as she found our assigned row in the aisle. “Mind if I sit near the window? I like looking out at the clouds.”
I shook my head, the bile in my stomach beginning to swirl. “No. It’s all yours.” Opening the overhead bin, I slid my carry-on bag inside before reaching over and freeing Elle’s from her shoulder. Placing it beside mine, I smoothed a hand down my tie and stepped to the side, allowing her access to her larger-than-coach-size seat before dropping myself on mine.
Buckling my seatbelt, I glanced at the window. “You’re not going to leave the shade open the entire flight, are you?”
She looked at me, her brows pulling together slightly. “You really are afraid of flying, aren’t you?”
It wasn’t easy for a man to admit his fears, but hell, there was no denying this one. I hated flying. Really fucking hated it. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”
Understanding flashing across her expression, Elle slid the window shade closed, and I felt a fraction of relief. We waited for the rest of the passengers to board, and as the plane rolled along the tarmac and the attendants explained the flight and safety procedures, I pulled in long, deep breaths. I needed a whiskey or a gin and tonic, stat. The captain’s voice echoed through the overhead speaker, and as he warned everyone to prepare for takeoff, I pressed back into my se
at and closed my eyes.
Elle leaned into my space. Her mouth was right beside my ear, her breath warm as she released a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’ve been told if the plane crashes, we won’t feel a thing.”
My eyes flew open and my head whipped in her direction. The color drained from my face, and I swept my hands down my thighs, ridding them of the layer of sweat collecting on my palms. “Funny.” I scowled at her. “Real funny.”
Elle laughed, that beautiful damn sound I loved hearing so much. “Relax.” Reaching over—her long slender fingers hesitating for a moment in their journey—she placed her hand on mine, squeezing it gently. “Everything will be fine. We will make it to L.A. in one piece. I promise.”
I stared at her.
She was wrong.
There was no way I was making it to L.A. in one piece because in the last five seconds I’d already felt less whole than I’d ever been. In one simple move—one reassuring gesture—Elle Callihan had unknowingly stolen a piece of me, a piece I wasn't sure I even wanted back.
“What do you mean there’s been a mix-up?” The vein in my neck throbbed as my pulse quickened, and the stress tightening my shoulders from all the turbulence we experienced on the flight here had been amplified. “How the hell do you possibly overbook your rooms. That is absolutely ridiculous, and I don’t care what you need to do. I want the keys to the two rooms I paid for. Not one.”
“Owen.” Elle cupped her hand under my elbow, attempting to get my attention, but I ignored her, instead trying to rectify our current mess of a situation. Never in my life, all the times I'd traveled, had I ever had this happen. And it couldn't happen. Not now. Not with Elle here with me.
“I do apologize, sir. I can assure you normally this isn’t an issue, but with the publishing convention this weekend and the mass amount of bookings, we had an unforeseen problem with the software on our computer system, and rooms were booked when they shouldn’t have been. Management is offering reimbursement of your room charges and a two-night comp for any future date of your choosing.”