Page 27 of Right With You
Meeting. Right.
I’d offered to meet her anywhere she wanted, and she’d asked if we could avoid eating out again. I hadn’t missed the twist of discomfort that’d crossed her face when I paid, but other than one protest which I refused, she’d gone with it. If she wanted to eat in, that was fine with me. The better to openly discuss things and… practice.
I’ll just need some practice.
Her words and the pinch in her brows echoed through my mind. She didn’t know how much her words had haunted me since we’d spoken. She was beautiful and kind and the fact that she needed to practice being touched made me want to activate some of the skills I’d tucked away when I left active-duty service. It made me want to test Callum Davis’s resolve and find him a cozy jail cell.
Clearly, neither one of us had dated recently, but the fact that she hadn’t because her ex had been so awful was more motivation to let this ruse do double-duty. It could get me through this meeting with Grand-père and hopefully persuade him to release the trust to me, and it could also convince that idiot she wasn’t his in any way.
The tension had crept into my shoulders and wound a knot between my blades, but I stretched my neck and breathed through the thoughts of her ex as I pulled up to an apartment building not far from downtown. It seemed nice, though I didn’t like that I could see residents’ doors from where I parked as they faced out, each nestled on a landing of a stairwell. A safer setup would be for her door to be on an inside hallway where a locked access door prevented just anyone from entering the building, let alone approaching her door.
Was she in the market to move?
I’d get that fixed somehow.
When my family arrived, we’d likely have to at least pretend to be spending a fair amount of time together. We could rationalize we were newly engaged so she kept her place, but the truth was, nothing but head over heels in love would make me propose. Which in turn meant I wouldn’t want to be away from her. It was how he’d been with my grandmother before she passed. It was how my parents had been right up until the cruel reality of human frailty showed its hand and my mother passed from lung cancer despite never having smoked a single cigarette in all her years.
A familiar leaden quality filled my lungs as I banished those thoughts and shut my car door. I sent Elise a text confirming I’d arrived so I wouldn’t surprise her, but as I stepped onto the stairway, movement caught my eye, and I peered at the window of a vehicle passing.
My brain went on full alert as I stepped back toward the sedan, which simply kept driving. But I’d seen him—I’d seen her ex here at her apartment complex. The odds of him visiting someone else seemed slim. I wouldn’t barrel in and jump to any conclusions like I had a right to demand an answer from her, but I’d ask her.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I arrived at her third-floor walkup and knocked twice. It took her a few seconds to answer, during which I steadied my mind and heartrate. If thatpetit conhad done anything to her?—
“Oh. Hi, Luc.” Elise stepped back from the threshold, pulling the door wide as our gazes connected. Her eyes darted away as she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, and if I wasn’t mistaken, her hand shook.
“Was he here?”
Her dark eyes jumped to meet mine, then she turned and padded farther inside. I closed and locked the door, following just behind.
“Elise, was Callum here? Is that why you seem shaken?”
Her energy was all off. Maybe she was truly this nervous to have me in her home, in which case I’d leave right this second, but having seen that sniveling little jerk skulking away as I arrived gave me a strong suspicion he was the root of the problem.
Her lips slightly pursed, she scrubbed a rag along the countertop in her kitchen, then halted and her eyes shut. She exhaled slowly, warring with herself and likely wishing I wasn’t there.
But I was, and I couldn’t help but feel perhaps I could help. I knew something of their dynamic, having observed it, and more recently, interrupting it. I needed her to know I wasn’t judging her, like she’d so kindly said to me.
“I don’t blame you or judge you or… anything other than have concern for you, Elise. I want to know you’re safe and happy, and you don’t seem to be either.”
She turned so I could see her face and my heart squeezed. She had tears limning her eyes and she looked so defeated.
Something monstrous rose up in me at this sight. I would tear the world down around her if it would keep her from feeling this way.
“He was here. I didn’t let him in, and he didn’t touch me. I think your threat is holding him off to some degree at least.” Her arms wrapped around her waist, and she shook her head. “I just feel trapped.”
My feet carried me closer, and by a thread, I managed not to pull her into my arms. She didn’t want that, and I wouldn’t impose it on her. But had I ever longed to hold someone and comfort them more?
Never in all my life. Nor could I imagine wanting it more than I did right now, as though every bit of sinew and bone in me was crawling toward her, pulling me into her with the need to hold her together and make her know she was safe. But this wasn’t right—I wasn’t here to comfort her, even if some primal part of me wanted it.
“What can I do?” I asked, desperation etched in every syllable. I hardly knew this woman, but it felt like a soul-deep imperative that I solve this for her. If I made the problem go away, then she wouldn’t feel like this and thenIwouldn’t, either.
She smiled softly, resigned, and shook her head. “There’s nothing to do. Hopefully, once we’re at the gala, he’ll see us together, maybe even before then, and it’ll help.”
Maybe before then, too. The little twerp had seen me tonight, just as much as I’d spotted him. Why would I be visiting this complex if not to come be with my girlfriend? The ruse must’ve worked already—he’d know Elise wasn’t available, and if he wanted to get to her, he’d have to get through me.
Our gazes held, her eyes flickering back and forth between mine for a moment before she broke the connection and moved to the fridge to retrieve a pitcher. “Can I get you some water?”
I accepted the offer and the glass she handed me a moment later, then moved to the two-person table wedged behind a love seat next to the window. The space was small but tidy and welcoming enough. She had a bright teal throw blanket livening up a nondescript gray couch and small wooden coffee table. Her TV sat on a small stand. Bar stools at the side of the space connected it to the kitchen, and down a short hallway were likely her bathroom and bedroom.
