As if on cue, my phone starts ringing. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. It’s crazy how much I missed him, just after one night without him. I guess when you go eight years without the love of your life and get him back, any more separation is too much to take.
Before I can even tell him ‘hi’, though, he’s talking. “I think I fucked up.”
The smile on my face is gone, the lightness in my heart replaced by fear. All I can think about is Ford. My hands start to shake, and I’m having a hard time holding the phone to my ear. I curl further into myself and speak softly into the phone so that Laurel can’t hear. “Where are you? Do I need to come get you?”
“It’s nothing like that.” Seconds tick by, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“Rafe,” I prompt.
“I went to see Tristan.”
“What?!” I explode out of the chair, the exhaustion leaving my body with his announcement. “You had no right.”
“Calm down. I needed to make sure he knew that things were over between the two of you.”
“He knew they were over, Rafe, because I told him. I don’t need you storming in and making things worse.”
“I didn’t make things worse.”
“You have no way of knowing that.” My entire body is hot and shaking, and I don’t know if I want to lay down on the floor and cry or vomit. Before I can dwell on this too long, I start to sweat and bile starts to make its way up my throat. I hang up the phone before I say something that I’ll regret later. Darting to the bathroom in Laurel’s office, I throw up until there’s nothing left, and I’m a teary-eyed mess on the floor.
Laurel is at my side, wetting paper towels and blotting my neck. “Are you alright? What happened?”
“I’m gonna kill Rafe.”
“Get off the floor, and you can tell me why.”
Despite the fact that I feel like I got hit by a Mack truck, I smile. Laurel, the consummate germaphobe, can’t deal with the fact that I’m on a bathroom floor. We walk back to her office and she gives me a generous squirt of hand sanitizer.
“He went to see Tristan.”
“Shit.”
“Exactly.”
“What happened?”
My head drops to the table. “I don’t know. We didn’t get that far. It couldn’t have been too bad, or Rafe would have been calling me from jail, but Tristan can fight using other means.”
“Do you think he’ll tell Daniel about the two of you?”
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know what to think at this point. The only thought I have is that Rafe just made this entire situation so much worse. My phone keeps ringing, but I refuse to pick it up and listen to what he has to say. Emotions are running high, so now isn’t the best time for us to continue our conversation.
The bell rings, signaling the end of my planning period, and I want to cry. The hour passed by way too fast for my liking. Needless to say, I got nothing accomplished.
“Do you want me to go help Hadley with the kids? You could stay in here for a bit and regroup?”
“Thanks, but no. We have a pretty easy day today.”
“Keep me posted. Text me if you need something.” She smiles. “I would hug you, but you were on the bathroom floor.”
Laughing, I leave her room and head back toward the other building. My steps are slow and measured. I stop completely when I hear my name being called from across the courtyard.
“What are you doing here, Tristan?” He doesn’t look like he’s been mauled by Rafe, so that’s promising.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Now’s not really a good time.”
“You need to make the time. Come with me.” He takes me by the elbow and pulls me into the building, leading me to the small workroom just inside the double doors. As soon as my brain catches up with what’s happening, I rip out of his hold. His hands on me feel wrong. He’s never touched me like that before and I don’t like it.
“Your boyfriend stormed into my office this morning, threatening me,” he tells me, “saying vile things about you. I don’t think you would appreciate him spreading details about your sex life around town.”
“He already told me what happened.” I don’t even want to get into the rest that he’s telling me.
“You need to call things off with him.”
“That’s not gonna happen, Tristan.”
He gets right in my face and grabs my shoulders. “I can make things really bad for you if you don’t. I understand your need to rebel. Fucking a bad boy like a common whore,” he sneers, getting closer. Drops of spittle are hitting my face and I’m starting to feel sick again. “You had your fun, now it’s time to get serious again. End it.”
His mouth lands on mine, hard and forceful, but he pulls away before I can protest. I stand there, stunned, as he walks away. After several minutes, the buzzing of my phone jolts me out of the state of shock I’m in. I ignore Rafe’s call, my anger toward him fueled by Tristan’s visit, and head back to class before Hadley sends out a search party for me.
I should have never told Laurel that today was going to be an easy day. Those kids have some sort of super power. They can sense when things are off, and they take complete advantage of you. It’s like a zoo in our room today, despite all of our efforts to keep some semblance of control.
And it’s only Monday.
And it’s nowhere near Christmas Break.
Lunch rolls around, and I get a call from the office that the police just pulled up.
“Dells,” I call. She’s buried in a book, oblivious to everything happening around her. “Do you want to have a picnic in here? Just the two of us?”
“How about the three of us?” I hear from the doorway.
Her eyes twinkle at the sound of her brother’s voice, but my eyes roll. She runs to him and wraps herself around his legs. He lifts her up and gives her a squeeze, but his eyes never leave me. They’re warm, practically glowing.
“Go wash your hands and set out your lunch, kid, and I’ll come sit with you in a second.” He puts his sister down, and she doesn’t hesitate to follow his command.
“Come here.”
“No.”
“Eleanor,” he growls.
“I’m mad at you.”
He smiles at me.
He infuriates me.
“You can smile all you want, Rafe Matthews. I’m still mad. You had no right to go to his office and cause a scene.” I move closer so that his sister can’t hear me. “You had no right to tell him about our sex life.”
His entire body gets rigid. “That asshole probably didn’t wait for me to clear the building before he called you.”
“Actually, he came to see me.” I shouldn’t provoke him, but it feels too damn good not to.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No.”
“What else did he say?”
“That I’ve had my fun, and it’s time to call things off with you and get serious again.”
“And what did you say to that?”
“I told him that isn’t going to happen.” He moves in closer, but I put my hand up. “Still mad, Rafe.”
He changes his path and goes to sit with his sister, talking nonstop about his day and asking her questions about hers. His eyes drift over to me every few minutes. I sit at my computer and pretend like I’m working on lesson plans, but I can’t concentrate when he’s occupying the same space as me.
After about fifteen minutes I can feel him at my back. He leans in close, the light scent of smoke and peppermint hitting my nose and making me dizzy. His hand on the nape of my neck sends a jolt down my spine. “I get that you’re pissed, and I’m sorry. Stay pissed if that’s what you need to do, but I miss you. I want to see you tonight. We don’t even have to speak to one another; I can work on some art, but come over. Let me cook for you.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just kisses the top of my head and leaves the room. Della comes over to me and crawls into my lap. Her lit
tle arms wrap around my neck, and she lifts her mouth close to my ear.
“Are you coming?” she whispers. Her voice is shaky, both from lack of use and from nerves.
I swallow down the scorching lump in my throat and answer her. “Yes, baby. I’m coming over. Tell me what you want to eat, and I’ll let your brother know. We can call him right now.”
My heart is banging wildly against my ribcage. The heavy thumps are vibrating through my entire body. I wait for an eternity for her to respond to me, but she never says anything else.
23. Rafe
“That’s the last of the boxes.”
“Thank God,” Tommy moans. “I don’t think I could handle much more.”
“Quit bein’ such a pussy. Rafe hardly has any shit.” Declan’s standing in my new kitchen, surrounded by boxes, cracking open a beer.
He’s right. This house is much bigger than the last one, and I don’t nearly have the stuff to fill it up. I found the perfect place for Dells and I to move to, just off campus. It’s even got a shed out back with a window unit that I plan to convert to an art studio. We’re close to the neighborhood where Claire and Finn live, and even closer to Eleanor. If I have anything to say about it, though, she’ll be even closer… she’ll be here with us.
“How many times have I helped you move?” I ask Thomas. He just takes a hearty pull from his bottle. “That’s what I thought. Quit your bitchin’.”
“When’s my pop bringin’ Della Doo back?”
“He’s not. Your mom wanted to keep her tonight.”
Tommy grins around the mouth of his beer. “So what time’s the hot teacher comin’ over for a sleepover?”
“As soon as the two of you get the hell out of here I’m goin’ to pick her up and take her out.”
“Where you takin’ her?”
“Ruth’s Chris.”
Tommy and Declan both let out low whistles. “Damn. You about to pop the question?”
“Not THE question, but yeah. I want her to move in.”
“Are things that serious?” Tommy asks, horrified at the thought of living with a woman. Thomas O’Leary doesn’t do serious. In fact, his version of serious is sleeping with the same girl more than once. To actually be in a committed relationship with someone is unfathomable to him, which is crazy, considering his family.
“Things have been that serious since I was in seventh fucking grade, Thomas.”
“But you just got back with this girl.”
“Don’t care.”
“A lot’s changed since then.”
“Still don’t care, brother.”
Declan cups me on the shoulder, sensing the tension in the room. “We’ll get out of your hair. Enjoy your night. Call us tomorrow if we need to haul more shit over here from Eleanor’s house.”
After a quick shower, I’m back in a suit for the second time in two weeks. Things have been strained between us lately. Eleanor’s been walking around in a constant state of anxiousness, waiting for the other shoe to drop in the Tristan situation. He hasn’t been back at school to see her but has made a few attempts to call her. I’ve had to employ every ounce of self-restraint I possess to not go back over to his office and beat the shit out of him, but I know that will only make things worse. She thinks he’ll get over the whole thing and move on. I hope she’s right. I also hope that my asking her to move in tonight will pull her out of the funk she’s been in since he started all this bullshit a few weeks ago.
I knock at the side door of her little cottage but she doesn’t answer. Her car’s in the driveway and lights are on, so I let myself in.
“Eleanor?” I call out, listening for a response. Nothing.
The living room and kitchen are empty and quiet, so I make my way through to the back of the house. I poke my head in the doorway of her bedroom and see her, lying across her made bed, fully dressed and sleeping. Sinking down on the mattress next to her, I cup her cheek, checking for a fever, much like I do with my sister.
Her eyes flutter open, slowly, like it’s the hardest thing she’s had to do all day. “Hey,” she murmurs.
“Tired?”
She gives me a lazy grin. “It feels like I have jet lag.”
“We can stay in,” I say, knowing she feels bad, but hoping she says no.
“It’s alright. I just needed to sleep for a minute.” She goes to sit up and falls into me, clutching onto my shoulders. “Whoa.” She keeps her head down for a beat or two and then looks up at me and rubs her face. “I think I sat up too fast. I’m dizzy.”
“Have you eaten today?”
She bites her bottom lip and has to think for a second, which I take for a no.
“You gotta eat, Eleanor,” I continue. “Let me go grab something for you before we go.”
“I tried to eat this morning, but I think my eggs were bad.”
“Why?”
“I got sick.”
“That’s been happenin’ a lot lately.” At first, she was blaming it on the sangria night, but after a few days, I convinced her that a hangover doesn’t linger that long. Then, she tried to convince me that the kids at school gave her something. I’m not buying that shit, either.
“You’ve been sick for two weeks”, I continue. “I’m giving you ‘til the end of this one, then I’m taking you to the damn doctor. This isn’t right.”
“I work with kids, Rafe. Do you know how many germs I come in contact with on a daily basis? I’m gonna get sick. You can’t get all caveman about it.” The sass is back- my girl must be feeling better. She’s up off the bed, stomping around and looking for shoes. I guess this means she’s ready to leave.
I wrap my arms around her waist, causing her to freeze, and take a minute to just breathe her in. “I missed you today.” A few tiny kisses on her neck, and she’s practically melting into my body.
“I missed you, too,” she exhales.
“You look beautiful.”
“So do you.”
“Men aren’t beautiful, Eleanor,” I tell her, turning her in my arms.
She takes hold of my face and looks deep into my eyes. So deep, I can feel her stare right into my soul. “You are, Rafe Matthews. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
Mirroring her pose, I take her face in my hands and kiss her. It’s slow and tender, meant to show her my gratitude for her sweet words. We break away after a few moments, wordless, a bit breathless, and walk out to my car.
“Did you and the boys get everything moved to the new place?” she asks.
Our bellies are full, both of wine and food, and we are lingering over a shared plate of tiramisu. “Yeah. I haven’t opened a single box yet, though.”
Her eyes light up. “That’s okay. I can help tomorrow. Organizing is totally my thing. I can’t wait,” she says, clapping her hands.
She’s a goofball. She’ll be all mine tomorrow; I don’t think we’re going to be organizing… I don’t think we’re going to be leaving the bed.
“We’re not touching those boxes tomorrow.”
“Why?” She looks heartbroken at the very thought.
Here goes nothing. “We’re celebrating.”
Her dark eyebrows scrunch together. “What are we celebrating?”
“You moving in with me.”
Out of all the reactions I was expecting, hoping for, I never thought her face would pale and her mouth would turn down. “I can’t,” she whispers.
“I’m sorry?” The forkful of tiramisu hits the plate, causing a clatter to echo through the restaurant.
“I can’t move in with you,” she repeats, her voice just as low.
“Why not? Are you having doubts about us?”
Her eyes grow wet and her plump bottom lip starts to quiver. “God, no, Rafe. I love you. But it’s too soon.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit. We’ve known each other half of our lives. Try again.” I shouldn’t be mad, but God damn it, this isn’t how I thought this was going to go.
“I thought
we were going to keep this quiet because of work. I can’t move in with you. We’re already playing with fire.”
“How would they even know?”
“Rafe,” she says, and it’s not in the way that makes my insides soften. “I want to live with you. I want to make a life with you. Now just isn’t the time. Not when I’m Della’s teacher.”
I’m not gonna fucking beg her. I throw my napkin down on the table and walk off, much like a petulant little brat not getting his way, but I don’t care. I want to find our server, pay the bill, and get the hell out of here. Movement by our table catches my eyes. I look back to the small alcove where we were sitting, irate over seeing Tristan standing there talking to my girl. Suddenly, paying the bill doesn’t seem so important. I walk back over to the table, throw some large bills down and hope it’s enough to cover the meal.
“Stalking us now?”
“Just saying hello to Ella.”
“Well, say goodbye. We’re leaving.” I don’t give him a chance to speak again. Based on how I’m feeling, he might end up with a fist in his face. I pull Eleanor up from the table and practically drag her out of the place.
“Rafe,” she calls once we get in the parking lot and yanks out of my hold.
I look at her, but she closes her mouth. Whatever she was about to say vanishes into the night air. I’m seething, ready to lash out, on anyone or anything, and she’s smart enough to sense that. She doesn’t attempt to speak again. The air in the car is thick, suffocating. The ten minute drive back to my new place feels like ten hours. She practically jumps out of the car when we pull up in the driveway and locks herself in the bathroom as soon as I get the door open. I opt to go in the backyard with a couple of beers and my pack of cigarettes and have a pity party.
My sulking doesn’t last long. I let the alcohol and the nicotine course through me and I think about how lucky I am to have Eleanor inside the house, even though she’s probably hurting right now because I was such a dick earlier. If she wants to wait, we can wait. I don’t like it, but I understand her reason for us needing to slow this down. This is her career we’re putting on the line. And it might not be too smart for me to have her living with me while all this shit with Ford is still going on. If I get busted we could both be implicated.
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