Like I’m a snitch.
I haven’t been sleeping well again. Not that Tani’s doing much better. I’ve spent my nights avoiding my balcony and staying away from elevators, but she’s been “buried in emails” and staring surreptitiously at her phone for messages from her parents. I’d say we’re even in the needing-to-relax department now.
But when we got home from the dinner, I could tell she was worried about me. Yes, it’s depressing to have dinner with a family full of blissed-out gay couples in love when you’re alone. My brother is bad enough, but Owen and Jeremy? Seamus and Bellamy? Solomon and Hugo? Brady and Ken? (I could keep going.)
I mean, come on. I get it. Well, I understand, even if I don’t personally get it. That kind of love is apparently not in the cards for me.
It was such a little thing. A normal thing for Elliot to pull back like that. It wasn’t the time or the place. Logically, I understand that. The reason I made it my line in the sand was because, for a moment, I was tempted to give him what it looked like he wanted.
In that instant, the past didn’t matter. My desire for a real relationship didn’t matter. Why shouldn’t I give in? Why should it matter if we keep it a secret?
Because you’re falling in love with him.
It’s too fast, it’s doomed, it will all end in disaster. There are no warnings you can give me that I haven’t already given myself. But this isn’t about what’s possible or smart. There’s no life hack to remove my feelings with WD-40 and toothpaste. The only cure is time, and that clock doesn’t start until I decide to stop fooling myself.
Tani’s tiaras made it impossible for me to escape him as quickly as I wanted to. We spent half the day together and it was part happy families, part torture.
To keep conversation to a minimum, I introduced Joan, Tani and the girls to She-Ra, and they refused to move until we’d binged the available seasons. Now we’re all addicted and I’ve decided not to tell them about The Dragon Prince so I won’t lose my living room forever. Children should spend more time outside, right?
I know. I’m such a hypocrite.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure he still got the message that I was shutting things down. Sitting on the other side of the room, using every ounce of my willpower to avoid eye contact, and practically barring my own door so I wouldn’t meet him on the balcony later that night must have given him a few clues.
The aggravating thing is that he seems to be respecting that. He hasn’t called or sent me an email, risked a kabobbing by hopping the railing, caught me on the elevator or asked if I wanted to go to the batting cages again. Nothing.
It’s for the best.
It’s probably for the best.
Knowing that doesn’t stop my heart from having a mini-seizure when I hear his voice. “Is it good to go?”
I spin on my heel and see Mr. Gordon and Kay both gazing up at Elliot with adoration. “Out front and ready to rumble.”
“Thanks, Mr. G.”
Then he’s there. Standing right in front of me. “Hi, neighbor.”
I lick my lips. Everything sounds better when he says it. “Hi.”
He hasn’t shaved in a few days and it makes his cheekbones stand out. This morning, he looks less caped crusader and more dangerous to my equilibrium. Is he growing the Ransom Beard back? Does that mean his break is over? “Where’s your mini-me?”
He’s studying me just as closely. “Since I spent yesterday with the girls, Joan is taking them to an ice dancing event today. We’re trying out some different activities in lieu of lessons. Seeing how things go.”
I bet his mom doesn’t like that. “That’s good. That’s really good.”
I don’t know how someone so masculine can pull off bashful, but he does it well. “I was hoping I could borrow you for a few hours. Get your input on something I’m working on. I heard you had the day off.”
Several things.
Okay, mostly one thing. “Did Tani tell everyone I had the day off except for me?”
He runs a hand through his hair. It’s only been a few days, but it already looks longer. “She mentioned it in passing, and the timing couldn’t be better, since you’d really be doing me a favor.”
I tug my coat tighter around me, as if that’s going to offer any protection against his charms. “Input for what? Where?”
“My real estate agent called. I had her looking at something for me, something inspired by those donations of yours.”
To the youth center? “Not a house with a swing?”
He bites his lip and I almost whimper.
“Nothing feels right yet on that front,” he says slowly. “But this does, and it’s important for me to get your opinion. Will you help me out?”