Page 39 of The Art of Loving Ellie
I watch as the girl and her dad follow their big brown dog back to the rest of their family. Still holding the girl, he leans in to kiss the mother, and pats the little boy next to her on the head. They look like a picture perfect family, and my heart aches at the awareness that I want something I once thought I could never have.
“He’s human, Princess—just like you. The only difference here is thatyouhold the power. You control what happens next between your father and yourself. To completely turn your back on him may be a mistake that you won’t be able to undo later on.” Gramps’ words about fate eerily bounce their way around my messy thoughts.
"Ifyou don’t answer her call, she moves on—and most of the time, she doesn’t look back."
Visions of the broken heart swan sculpture enter my mind once more. I just opened my heart to the idea that I could have a romantic relationship and the risks involved in that. Now, I risk opening my heart to a different heartache completely.
Picking at the edges of my coat I ask him, “What if I’m disappointed?”
He bends over to rest his elbows on his knees, and releases a lungful of air which dissipates in a white puff in front of him. Contemplating my words for a long moment, he bites the tip of his gloved thumb in thought, then answers, “That’s the risk we all take, isn’t it? To openly give someone the key to something we hold sacred—our trust. But which of our lives here are worth living if we don’t take a risk every now and then?”
His eyes lift to meet mine, and I see that he isn’t only referring to Robert and me, he’s referring to us. The weight of his earlier words become heavy in my mind. In twenty-three years, I have been several different versions of myself. I’m certain I will live through many more, but which Ellie will I look back on and be most contented with?
“You’re right,” I say lightly, and he sits up, gently moving my hair out of my face so I can see him better. The lump forming in my throat makes it difficult to swallow. “Thank you.”
Bringing his warm lips down to meet mine, I gasp at the live wire connection between us. How can one person make me feel whole, and yet, like I’m falling to pieces all at once?
Surging up from the bench he demands, “Let’s dance.”
I shift my eyes to the left, and then the right. “Are you well?” He tilts his head back and laughs toward the sky. “Seriously Tyler, should I take you to see a shrink?” Against my wishes, I’m being dragged off the bench and into a spin.
Bringing me back closer to his body, I look up at him bewildered, but his eyes are closed as he hums a tune I don’t recognize. He’s doing it again—finding little ways to brighten my mood. I smile despite myself and lean my face into the warmth of his chest. It’s not lost on me that we are recreating the very scene I saw his parents performing in secret on Thanksgiving.
“That’s nice,” I say, in reference to the song he’s humming as we sway back in forth. “What is it?”
“It’s a song my grandma used to sing to me when I was a kid. You would have liked her. She was a free spirit, and never took crap from anyone—especially Gramps.” He pulls back from me, smiling at her memory.
“Sounds like she and Aunt Jane would get along then.” We share a smile, and decide to make our way through the park back to my apartment.
It’s late by the time he leaves, and I wish we could stay in our little cocoon of happiness for a while longer. Being with Tyler is a lot like rubbing cool aloe vera on a hot sunburn—my anxiousness will always be a part of who I am, but he somehow finds a way to soothe it.
Later in the evening when I’m alone, I crank up my space heater and sit on the floor in my living room, thinking through this weekend and the decisions I have to make. I unlock my phone and scroll through my messages to the last text I have from Robert. I open the message thread and read the last thing he sent to me:
R: I just want to talk to you, Ellie. Please call me.
I watch the cursor blink in the message line—mocking me. Taking leaps of faith isn’t exactly my forte, but if I’m going to embrace the other changing aspects of my life, I’ve got to embrace this one, too—no matter the consequence.
E: I’ll call you tomorrow.
Chapter Thirteen
Damn this scarf.
Cursing my rebellious accessory as it slaps around in the wind, I open the front door of Marpines. People are wandering about, and Margaux sits at her desk, proper as ever, filing her nails and ignoring an elderly man who is asking her for directions.
My head aches, letting me know I’ve missed my caffeine window, and I have espresso on my mind as I make my way to the small espresso machine we have in the lobby. I usually have plenty of time to make it to Charlie’s, but I overslept this morning after tossing and turning from my numerous nightmares last night.
I halt in my pursuit of concentrated coffee beans when I spot a man stirring something in a cup that sits on the bar next to the machine. There’s a messenger bag slung over his shoulder, and he’s wearing a pair of jeans that hug his backside just right. The light gray pullover sweater he has on molds to every contour of muscle in his strong arms, and I get a little lightheaded at the sight of him.
I run a hand through my windswept hair in an attempt to make it presentable as I approach. The smell of amber surrounds my senses, bringing back thoughts of naked, entwined bodies, and not so sweet kisses that cause my body temperature to rise.
“Hey, stranger.” I smile up at him, genuinely glad to see him this morning. He looks freshly shaven and happy.
“Hey yourself, beautiful.” Putting his hand on the small of my back, he brings me in close for a very public, not so PG-13 kiss.
“Tell me I’m the reason your cheeks are so pink?” My eyes flutter open to see his lazy smile, and a part of me revels in the knowledge that Margaux is watching me lock lips with him. I see her cross her arms and spin her chair around in my periphery.
“I may have been thinking about the incredible night I had with a mystery man.” I reach my hands down to grope his perfect ass as he continues to hold me, and for once, I don’t give a damn who’s watching.
