Eli is passed out hardย in the passenger seat when I parallel park in front of Sucre Bakery in Yountville, a picturesque town halfway between Napa and Blue Yonder. He doesnโt even stir when I turn off the engine.
I sigh, unbuckling my seatbelt.
Good thing I didnโt let him drive; he offered when we stopped for gas near Adamโs house, and I stared at the purple moons under his eyes as he topped off the gas tank, hip propped against the car.
โIโd rather not crash,โ I said, then blurted, โYouโre really not going to give me the list?โ
He straightened, appraising me like he knew Iโd been stewing. โWe really canโt share?โ
โWe agreed to split up the tasks.โ
โOkay.โ It was nearly a sigh, his gaze latched on to me. โIโll send you half of it. Fifty-fiftyโs fair.โ
He pulled out his phone as soon as we got in the car and my heart spiked seeing his name on my screen moments later, separate from the group thread weโve shared. I expected him to fall headlong into his digital world after that, but instead he dropped his phone in his lap and turned on the radio, glancing at me. I took it for what it wasโa silent promise that heโd be on his best behavior.
And he was, because he was unconscious five minutes later.
I should be grateful for it, but this scenario might be worse than a fully awake Eli Mora in my car for two and a half hours, including the hour-long standstill traffic he slept through. If he doesnโt wake himself up organically, heโs going to emerge from sleep in another dimension. Iโve encountered the full breadth of that experience, from gibberish conversations to sleepwalking, from happy, sleepy smiles to blank stares, like Iโm a stranger.
Itโs silly to be scared, but thatโs the feeling pooling in my stomach. I stare at him, because maybe if I do it hard enough, heโll wake up on his
own. And also because, quite honestly, heโs beautiful.
His knees are spread, arms folded over his chest, hands tucked under his biceps. In his lap are his phone and the ring boxes Adam handed over with a declarative โI canโt be responsible for anything significant right now.โ His lashes are fanned out over his skin, his brows cinched together in a familiar, Manhattan-shaped frown.
I glance at the clock.ย Dammit. Our appointment is in five minutes. โEli,โ I say, but itโs more like a whisper.
His lashes flutter, then still. โEli,โ I try again.
Nothing, just his fingers twitching, a tell that heโs still deep in his dream world, busy even in his sleep.
With a frustrated groan, I lean on the console, getting as close as I dare.
โEli.โ
His eyes fly open and lock immediately with mine, like he knew where I was down to the millimeter.
I can tell right away heโs here, but not. His mouth tilts up, his eyes sun- touched and calm. Iโm frozen in that look. Itโs a memory, hundreds of them: the first time we met; the first time we kissed, and the thousandth; our two years at Cal Poly and the thirtieth day we lived together. Heโs looking at me the way he hasnโt for so long. I stretch toward it on instinct, that forever- needy girl inside me wanting its warmth.
He shifts in his seat, angling toward me. In a flash, his palm is shaping my cheek, then palming the back of my neck to bring me closer. And itโs not warmth now, itโs heat. Something that will burn me if I donโt pull away.
But I canโt.
โThere you are.โ A smile melts across his face, slow and sleepy. โHey, Peach.โ
 |
Itโs been more thanย ๏ฌveย years since Eliโs called me that. Since heโs sounded like he cares. Maybe thatโs what wakes him up, that he sounds so
unlike himself.
Or maybe itโs the way my hand flies up to his wrist in an iron grip.
Awareness snaps into his eyes and we hold like that, an inch apart, straddling the line between past and present before we both jerk back like weโre on fire.
My elbow cracks into the horn, which honks in unison with Eliโs head cracking against the window behind him.
โFuck,โ he gasps, curling in on himself as he cradles the back of his skull.
โAre you okay?โ I yelp, my heart flying. This car is unbearably small right now. Between me and Eli, there have to be fourteen arms and legs in here.
He groans again, still folded over. I canโt tell if itโs in pain. The shells of his ears are bright red.
โI was asleep,โ comes his muffled voice. I swallow hard. โYes, obviously.โ
He sits up slowly, rubbing at his head. โI didnโt mean toโโ
โI know. Youโre Ambienโs side effects in human form when youโre woken up.โ I lean back as far as I can, my shoulders pressed against the window. โI shouldnโt have gotten so close. Youโyou werenโt waking up and our appointment is in five minutes.โ
Rubbing the back of his head, he rips his gaze from my face and blinks out the window. People meander lazily along the wide sidewalk, drifting in and out of the various upscale storefronts along the street. The sun hangs high above us, laying its late summer rays onto Sucreโs glossy black door fifty feet away.
Eli inhales as his eyes find mine again, seeming to shake off the last vestiges of his sleep. I donโt know what I expect him to say, but itโs not, โYou parallel parked on your own?โ
It took me four tries, but he doesnโt need to know that. Let him believe Iโve improved over the years.
I pop my keys out of the ignition with shaky fingers, throwing open my door. โYes. Are you good? โCause we need to go. Adam said we canโt be
late.โ
โYeah, sorry,โ he says, his voice hoarse from disuse. โIโโ
His phone dings. I stop, looking down on instinct, the sound vibrating down my spine. His screen is angled just enough that I see a calendar reminder before he picks it up and lets loose a low, foreboding, and all-too- familiar, โShit.โ
โWhat?โ
My tone is carefully blank. Itโs not the first time Iโve been handed aย shitย sponsored by Eliโs phone, so I hate myself for the spike of disappointment I feel. I know better.
โI forgot I have a thing right now.โ Eli scrubs a hand through his hair, gripping the ends in frustration.ย โShit.โ
โA thing that doesnโt involve you eating cake?โ โItโs a phoneโฆthing. An appointment.โ
I barely manage to suppress a sarcastic โof course it is.โ Itโs probably just some last-minute emergency for Luce. I knew heโd drop the ball; I just didnโt expect it to happen so soon, or to see the look of anguish on his face as he watched it roll away.
It takes me back to a few months after he started his job, when the mishaps began to pile up.
I still remember the first big thing he missedโRoryโs fancy birthday dinner. Rory was a colleague who technically fit the definition of โfriendโ since she seemed to enjoy my company, if not wholeheartedly. Luce had to stay late for Eli, and I understoodโhe couldnโt say no. But my stomach twisted as I told a table full of barely acquaintances that my boyfriend couldnโt make it after all. It was the first of many times, and soon the question of whether he even existed became a caustic joke that wrapped a resentful vine around my heart.
He rarely made it out, missing more nights than he showed up. I understood, truly I did. His exhausted relief made me feel like I was being good and easygoing. Iโd been here before.
But my understanding became a rope, fraying under the weight of his career pressures and the panic they caused him. It left us both numb. Heโd approach me with his latest scheduling conflict, his expression defeated. I felt vindicated because I had predicted this. I pretended it didnโt matter, that I was fine, even though I was essentially a broken heart in a trench coat. He noticed, at first pushing backโasking if I was okay, if Iโd tell him if I wasnโt. But I couldnโt. I remembered telling my dad I wasnโt okay when I was eight, when I was eleven, and how heโd tried to find me a therapist, eventually outsourcing the search to a family friend because he just didnโt have the time. I remembered how much that had hurt him.
Eventually Eli stopped asking and I stopped inviting him places. I hid those ugly emotions to protect myself. And him, too.
I tried to pull him in one last time, thoughโthat night in December is etched into my memory. I was back in San Francisco by New Yearโs.
Wordlessly, I climb out of the car.
Eli meets me at the front bumper. โGeorgiaโโ
โItโs fine,โ I say, striding toward the bakery. โWe donโt both need to be there anyway. Iโll let you know how it goes.โ
I only get two steps in before his hand curls around my arm, towing me to a stop.
When I turn, I expect him to be apologetic or impassive, one of two emotions on this familiar spectrum. Instead, his eyes flash, an electric current that zips into me. Thereโs nothing numb or defeated about him right now.
โI do need to be there,โ he insists. โI justโโ
โYou donโt owe me an explanation. Do what you need to do.โ
His mouth firms. โGo in without me while I figure it out, but Iย will
figure it out.โ
I swallow, thrown off. An Eli whoโs willing to toss aside his work interruptions is so alien-like, but of course. Heโs devoted to fixing this for Adam.
โI have to go inside right now or this woman is going to flambรฉ me.โ Iโm very aware that his hands are still on me, and even more aware that I canโt pull myself away. Without an audience to reassure, thereโs no reason to let him touch me.
I donโt move.
Eliโs gaze sweeps over my face, his brows pushing into a furrow. I used to rub my thumb right there until it went away. My hand twitches, wanting it now.
NO, Georgia.
Finally, he says, โItโs not what you think it is.โ โIt doesnโt matter what I think.โ
โIt actually does,โ he says, his voice low. โVery much.โ
My heart does something painful, a quick, shock-like pulse. I remind myself again that this isnโt about me. Itโs about him proving something to Adam while I bear witness to it.
I canโt let that hurt.
Eliโs phone starts buzzing. His eyes close briefly. Another perfect reminder, right on time.
I extricate myself from his grasp. โLetโs just chalk this one up to being on my half of the list. Take care of your thing, okay? Iโve got it.โ
