Chapter 16

16

ETHAN

" A re you all right, Dr. Collier?"

I look up to see Melinda standing in my office doorway, a look of concern on her face, and offer her a smile I know looks weak.

"I'm fine, Melinda. Thank you for asking."

"You've just been kind of off lately. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just … I just have some things going on. Nothing to worry about," I reply. "But I appreciate you checking on me."

The past week has been nothing but painful. I tried doing what Elodie suggested regarding repairing my relationship with Ben, but the two dozen calls and texts I sent him went unanswered. And frankly, I don't expect to hear from him. As far as Ben goes, and because of the situation with Elodie, I'm sure I'm dead to him.

And that's fine. That's a wound that calloused over a long time ago. Not that I don't miss my son. Not that I don't want a relationship with him. But this is all his doing. This is his decision, and I'm doing my best to respect it. I do hope that one day, he'll grow up and come around, and we can work on fixing what's broken between us. I'm hoping it happens, but I'm not expecting it.

"You can talk to me, Dr. Collier. I'm known to be a pretty good listener."

Talking about things has never been my strong suit. I've never been the sort of guy who was comfortable sharing my feelings with anybody. My MO has always been to stuff them all down and wait for them to go away. But right now, I feel like a teakettle that's about to boil over. There's so much stuff swirling around inside of me that I don't even know what to do with it all.

As if sensing that I do want to talk, Melinda steps into my office and drops in the chair in front of my desk. I honestly had no intention of actually talking about any of it and just following my standard protocol of swallowing it all down. But when Melinda sits down and looks at me with that expression of worry on her face, it's like the dam inside me breaks and everything I've been holding back and bottling up comes rushing out, swamping her in a tsunami of emotions.

I speak for almost half an hour, and when the last word has floated out of my mouth, I slump back in my chair, feeling completely wrung out. Melinda gapes at me with a look of shock and what looks like horror on her face, and I immediately feel like an asshole. I sit back up again and clear my throat, trying to salvage some bit of my dignity.

" I'm sorry to have unloaded on you like that," I say. "I…"

"Don't be sorry, Dr. Collier," she says. "I'm just … I'm surprised you did. You're normally so reserved. But I'm glad you talked to me. I'm glad you shared it with me."

"I'm not so sure I am. I don't think I've ever felt weaker in my life."

She laughs softly. "You're not weak. You're human. And to be perfectly honest, this is the first time I've ever seen your human side. You're usually so above it all and aloof. It's kind of nice knowing you've got this soft and squishy side in you."

A rueful smile curls my lips, and I shake my head. "I wouldn't go that far."

"Okay, fine. Maybe not soft and squishy," she replies. "But it is nice seeing your more human side, Dr. Collier."

"I honestly don't know what I'm supposed to do with that more human side."

"You lean into it. You embrace it."

"I don't know how."

"None of us do. We all just figure it out as we go along," she says. "Speaking of figuring it out as we go along, I think there's nothing you can do about Ben. Trying to force a relationship with him is likely only going to drive him further away. He will come back around. Sons will naturally seek out their fathers, even after a falling out. It happened that way with my husband—he and his father fought and didn't speak for years. They're the best of friends now. Give it time. He'll mature as he grows and will come around."

"Thanks, Melinda."

"Also, I can see why you feel the way you do about Elodie. She's beautiful. She's intelligent and creative. She's passionate and I think she's a real catch."

"And she's also half my age."

"So? She's a grown woman. As we get older, age matters less and less," she says.

"You don't think it's weird or wrong?"

"Why would I? There's fifteen years between my husband and me," she says. "I met Harold when I was nineteen. And it's just worked all these years. Besides, you have never struck me as the kind of man who gives a darn what people think."

I laugh softly. "I suppose not."

"Do you love her?"

It's a question I haven't asked myself. I haven't taken the time to really sift through all my feelings and identify them for what they are. But sitting here with Melinda, thinking about Elodie, I know I miss her. I miss her voice. Her laugh. I miss her dimples and the way her face lights up when she smiles. Thinking about my life without her hurts in ways I never expected. Thinking about my life without her leaves a ragged hole in my heart too dark to even contemplate. Thinking about all that draws me toward one conclusion.

"Yeah. I think I do," I say.

"Then why are you sitting here?" she asks. "Go and tell her that. Make her understand how you feel. Maybe it works out and maybe it doesn't. But the last thing you want to do is have regrets, years from now, that you let somebody so wonderful and a relationship so potentially amazing go by the boards without standing and fighting for her. Show her this human side. Show her that you're willing to go out on a limb and fight for her."

I let Melinda's words rattle around in my head for a moment. Going out on a limb the way she's describing is something I've never done before. But I've never felt for somebody the way I feel for Elodie before either. Maybe she's right, and it's time for me to not just get in touch with my more human side, but to share it with Elodie. Regret isn't something I want to live with. And Melinda is right, if I don't do everything in my power to fix things with Elodie and show her just how much I care for her, I will surely regret it.

"Thank you, Melinda," I say. "For everything."

Elodie opens the door, and her eyes widen when she sees me standing on her porch. "Ethan," she says. "What … what are you doing here?"

"I was hoping we could talk."

"Oh. I was … I was just about to go for a walk with Mam."

"Don't be rude, sweetheart. Invite the man in and have a word with him," Mrs. Carter says.

The older woman is standing in the foyer, dressed and ready to head out, but gives me a warm smile. Elodie holds onto the door, her face etched with uncertainty. Mrs. Carter steps out onto the porch and gives my hand a gentle squeeze before turning around and looking at her granddaughter.

"I'm more than capable of walking on my own," she says crisply. "You two put on a pot of tea and have a chat."

"Mam—"

"I'm going now. You two talk."

"No more than twenty minutes, Mrs. Carter," I say.

"No more than twenty minutes," she replies.

We both watch the older woman head down the stairs and set out on a walk around the block without a look back at us. When she disappears from view, I turn to Elodie and offer her a small smile, which she returns. The uncertainty and tension in the air between us is thick. With a small shake of her head, she finally seems to come back to herself.

"Sorry," she says. "Might as well come in."

"Thank you."

I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she puts a kettle to boil on the stove. After that, she takes her time getting the service set up. The silence in the kitchen has a physical weight on us. It's heavy. It's so thick and oppressive, it's almost suffocating. The kettle whistles as it boils, so Elodie pours out a pair of mugs then carries the whole service over to the table and sits down across from me. Sitting so close, I want to reach out and take her hand. I want to touch her. But I can tell she's uncomfortable, so I don't.

"Have you heard from Ben?" I ask just to break the silence.

"He's sent me a few texts. I haven't returned them."

Her voice is crisp, and she refuses to look me in the eye. She's clearly not comfortable, but it's more than that. She looks … sad. That's a feeling I know all too well. She takes a sip of her tea and sets her glass down. After a long moment, she finally looks up and meets my gaze. "What are you doing here, Ethan?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"There's nothing left for us to talk about."

"Maybe there isn't," I reply. "But I wouldn't feel right if I walked away without telling you how I feel. When I'm done, if you still feel the same way, I understand."

Her cheeks flush and her eyes glisten. It's not difficult to see that this is just as hard for her as it is for me. She runs her fingertip around the rim of her mug, her lips trembling. The cacophony of thoughts and emotions crashing around inside my head makes it hard to think straight. It's making it difficult to speak eloquently or to, as Melinda said, show her my more human side. Instead, I'm sitting here, looking at her blankly like an idiot.

I run my hands through my hair and give my head a small shake, trying to get my head straight, telling myself I don't need to worry about speaking eloquently, so long as I speak sincerely. So long as I speak from the heart. Deciding that simply but honestly is the best way to go, I take a moment to gather my wits about me and speak.

"Elodie, I love you," I state firmly.

She can't hide the look of surprise on her face. Her mouth opens and closes as if she's trying to speak, but no words come out, making her look as if she's gasping for breath instead, so I take advantage of the silence to continue.

"I know we agreed that we were going to keep things simple and casual, what with you going back to LA at some point. But somewhere in the middle of all this, I fell in love with you," I tell her. "I didn't mean to. I tried to keep myself from feeling so deeply for you, but it's one of those things I couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried. The simple truth is, I love you."

"Ethan, we can't … I mean…" her voice trails off and she takes a moment to gather herself before continuing. "Like I told you, the most important thing is your relationship with Ben?—"

"No, it's not. You're the most important thing to me, Elodie."

"But he's your son."

"My relationship with Ben is what it's going to be. I've tried to bridge that gap, but if he doesn't want it, I can't force it," I tell her. "I can't force it any more than he can force a relationship with you. He doesn't want me in his life right now just like you don't want him in yours. And I'm not going sit by and not live my life or not go after those things I want on the vague hope that maybe one day, he and I can repair things. That very well might be a long wait for a train that's not going to come. Ever. And my relationship with Ben has no bearing on my relationship with you. They are two separate things."

She's silent for a moment but has a thoughtful look on her face. She's hearing me out. That tells me she's not as committed to ending things between us as I thought she might be. It's a small crack in her armor. It suggests that maybe I have a chance here after all.

"Elodie, I'm not going to live my life waiting for something that might not ever come to pass. You've reminded me what it is to live. You've given me a renewed sense of life and passion I thought I lost a long time ago," I tell her. "I don't want to lose that. I don't want to lose you. I love you and I want you. You're what's most important to me right now. You matter to me more than I can even begin to say. The way I see it, you belong to me. And I belong to you. But if this is something you don't want, just tell me and I'll go."

Her eyes shimmer with tears. Then without a word, she jumps to her feet and comes around the table, throwing herself into my arms. I pull her to me, feeling my heart swell so large, it feels like it's going to burst. Elodie dots my face with kisses, the tears rolling down her face wetting my cheeks.

After a long moment, she pulls back and looks at me, her eyes filled with the purest glimmer of love I've ever seen. I recognize it because I know that same glimmer is shining in my eyes too.

"Does that mean you want to be with me?" I ask.

"Yes," she says as her tears continue to fall. "I love you too, Ethan. With everything in me. And yes, I belong to you and you belong to me."

I slip a long black box out of my pocket and hand it to her. She takes it from me in a trembling hand and looks at it for a moment before raising her eyes to me again.

"What is this?" she asks.

"I had it made for you. Open it."

Her hands are shaking so hard, she opens it to find a choker made of crushed black velvet with a white gold heart set into it. Elodie takes it out of the box and looks at it adoringly.

"It's beautiful," she says.

Reaching out, I hit the hidden button that opens the heart to reveal the inscription. On one side, it reads, "Daddy's Little Girl," and the other says, "With All My Love ~ Ethan." I help her put it on and she looks at her reflection in the silver teakettle, gingerly running the tips of her fingers over the heart.

"This is beautiful," she says again.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you."

She turns back to me, her smile wide and warm. "I love you."

"And I love you, Elodie. With everything in me."