Page 55 of The Art of Loving Ellie
Stripping down, I step into the shower and let the steaming hot water slide its way over the now boney planes of my body. Taking a few deep breaths, I find a calm space in my mind to continue through my shower, and step out to dry, and pull my hair up.
I wince at the memory of Tyler’s first reaction to my long auburn hair loose for the first time in my life. He would surely be disappointed to see it pulled back now, but this is what I know, and tying it up gives me a sense of normalcy I’ve been desperately chasing after.
I pull on some cotton shorts and a loose long sleeve and make my way to the kitchen. I don’t have much of an appetite, but my thin frame screams at me that I need to eat something. So I settle on a bowl of cereal and turn to sit at my little breakfast table. I stare at the area for a moment, remembering pancakes and a naked chef, and curse my aching heart. Why does everything in this apartment remind me of him?
Taking a seat, I glare a hole into the canvas covered easel across the living room. The lily picture I created no longer resides there, and I close my eyes tightly trying to shut out the memories of his long fingers tracing and touching my skin the night we painted each other.
Suddenly, the sound of three loud bangs shatter their way across the space of my apartment and I gasp, frozen with fear. Panic settles in, and I accidentally throw my bowl of cereal off of the table as I sputter around to get to the drawer in my kitchen where I keep my pepper spray.
My stomach is in knots as I aim my weapon toward the door, but the knocks continue—louder this time. I whip my phone out, hovering my hand over the emergency symbol on the front screen.
“I—I'm going to call the police!” I raise my voice loud enough for the stranger to hear me. The only sound I hear now is my rapid breathing and the wild beat of my heart in my ears.
“Ellie. Let me in.” It’s not a request, but a demand, and it’s coming from none other than the man who has been assaulting my every memory since I’ve returned to New York City.
I drop my arms, relieved that I’m not about to be murdered, and I let out a long breath. If I open that door for him, then I’m opening my scarred and beat up heart to more aches and pains. Rolling my eyes at my curious nature, I slowly step over to the door, cracking it open an inch.
I expect him to stand in the hallway, but Tyler will have his way, my feelings be damned. He shoulders his way through the door and into my apartment, and the look on his face is absolutely wild.
“Ellie, what thehell.”He charges me, pulling me in tightly to his hard body. His soft lips tickle my neck and he breaths in, filling his chest with a breath I know he hasn’t fully taken in weeks. The way he holds me, as if I’m something precious to him, almost brings me to my knees. I want to embrace him back. I want to accept the things I promised myself I wasn’t going to turn back to. “I was terrified that something happened to you. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for over a week.”
Pulling away, he stares down at me with concern that guts me. I’ve purposely been avoiding him and this altercation for too long, and here he is, demanding answers. His demeanor changes slowly when he realizes I’m not returning the same affection.
“How did you know that I was here?” I ask the floor, not chancing a look at his beautiful eyes. Eyes that will completely destroy my resolve if I see the pain I’ve caused him glaring back at me.
His whole body has gone defensively rigid, and I can’t help myself—I dare a glance up at him, and already I mourn the loss of everything incredible between us.
“I couldn’t get a hold of you.” He stops speaking to search my eyes, and I can see that he’s hesitant to speak the truth.
“I’ve been coming here to check on you.” His voice catches slightly as if revealing anymore may make things worse. “When it became apparent you weren’t going to return and I couldn’t get a response, I stopped coming, but today I… I guess I was just hoping I’d get lucky.” He shifts around uncomfortably, and the desperation in his voice has my throat growing painfully tight.
When I don’t offer a response to his admission, we fall into a silent staring contest. We become two stubborn mules refusing to back down, and I bite the inside of my lip hard to prevent myself from saying something I may regret. The wound of my anger with him is still open and raw, and his presence here irritates it to the point of bleeding.
After a few heartbeats, his features grow dark as his gaze takes in the woman before him. He notices my ponytail first, and then stares at the gaunt contours of my face and upper body, before finally settling on the small of my waist and the missing weight there.
Pain flickers across his face and he draws his eyebrows together tightly, confused at my appearance. Behind me, sitting innocently on my kitchen counter is my unopened bottle of wine, and when his eyes touch it, fire practically explodes across his vision. He walks over to it picking it up off the counter and blinks at me as if he can’t believe what he is seeing.
“You’re drinking again?” The accusatory tone in his voice starts kicking up more anger in my chest.
“No,” is the only answer I offer him, and when I don’t explain further, he quirks up an eyebrow. “I don’t have to give you a reason for the things that I do, Tyler.”
Crossing my arms, I pretend indifference when truly, it’s tearing me apart to act this way with him. He glances around my apartment as if he’s somewhere totally new to him, and completely lost. “You’ve apparently been in town for days, and didn’t bother to call, and now you’re drinking again—”
The fury in my chest explodes. “I’mnotdrinking again.” I grind out through clenched teeth, and I can feel the burning heat in my face as blood rushes up my neck.
He sets the bottle down, slowly stepping into my space with his face mere inches from mine, and I glare up at him with every ounce of anger residing in my body.
As if seeing my anger dowses his own, he abruptly drops his defenses and shakes his head. He swallows hard, causing his Adam's apple to bob as he whispers gently, “Ellie, what did I do?”
He touches my face, and I close my eyes as the gentle warmth of his thumb brushes across my cheek. Back and forth he soothes the flames inside me until I open my eyes and see that he's steadily waiting for my reply. Why does he refuse to back down?
“I—I can’t see you anymore,” I force the words out quickly before I can change my mind, and he laughs at me, disbelieving—as if I’ve just told him a funny joke.
“I don’t want to see you anymore,” I say more firmly.
He stops moving for a moment, slowly lowering his hand down from my face. I see all the playfulness, and all the light that’s usually dancing in his eyes, completely dissipate as he takes one small step back from me. The dullness in his eyes lasts only a moment as they quickly begin to fill with hurt. The inches of space he’s put between us feel like miles.
“My father is dead.” My words are sharp, trying to hurt him, but he’s unflinching—steady in his resolve to ride this out, which is only making this harder for me.
