Page 57 of Safer Alone
~ Chapter Twenty-Nine ~
Iopen the door ever so slightly and peek out into the room trying to see if Elliot is indeed still here. I keep opening the door slowly until it is fully open and walk toward my suitcase, glancing at the bed. He isn’t here. I let out a sigh of relief. I decide on jeans, a lightweight black sweater, and my black scarf that I always carry with me. Just as I pluck my lace underwear out of the case I hear someone clear their throat behind me. I jump, dropping everything, my lavender boy legs and matching bra landing on top.
I turn around, and Elliot is standing there dressed and staring at me. Hair standing up in several different directions. With laughter in his eyes, it creeps down his face until his smile is a grin and then a soft chuckle.
“Hey sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help you with that.”
I bend down and grab everything in my arms before he can reach me. I don’t need him looking at my undergarments.
“It’s fine. I’ve got it.”
I turn on my heel and high-tail it to the bathroom, closing the door a little too firmly behind me. I take a moment and lean against the door. That was too darn close.
I have never been so thankful for a bathrobe. If I had been just wearing a towel it would have fallen along with all of my clothing. Steadying myself, I quickly get dressed, applying a small amount of foundation. I set it with my powder compact, adding some color to my cheeks with bronzer, finishing off with several coats of black mascara. Next I unsnag my hair from the messy bun it is currently in before running a brush through my uncooperative mop, settling on a plain side plait for the trip. I collect all of my personal items and deposit them into my already open toiletry bag and head back out to face the man who could have seen me naked. If it weren’t for that bathrobe.
He is sitting on the edge of the freshly made bed staring at something on the screen of his cell phone when I come out of the bathroom, his face set in a calm expression. Hearing me approach, he looks up.
“Hey. Are you all ready to push off?”
“Almost. I’ve just got to pop a few things in my bag and then I’m good to go.”
I walk past him and deposit my nightgown and personal items into the bag and zip it closed, locking the padlock through the zipper holes, once complete.
I lift my bag from its position and stand it up with the extendable handle pulled the whole way out. I smile at Elliot as he walks towards me. He takes my bag from me and walks ahead, out of the house and to the waiting SUV. Once my bag and both of us are comfortably inside, Elliot engages the engine and begins the drive to the airport.
The drive is mostly in silence. I’m thankful that he is driving me himself this morning, no sight of Price anywhere. I wonder why he is only his chauffeur sometimes? Maybe he is just on call when Elliot needs him. Speaking of Elliot, he hasn’t asked one single question about my nightmare last night, not even one passing comment. I should be happy, but instead several other thoughts float through my mind;
1. I wonder why he doesn’t care, or;
2. I said Dylan’s name, or;
3. He thinks I’m crazy
I sit in my seat toying with the hem of my shirt, wondering if I should say anything, if he would even care. I don’t need to tell him everything. Maybe I could make something up, that the nightmare was something completely fabricated, we were being attacked by a bear. I can’t do that though, I’m not a liar. If he asks me, I’ll be honest. I’ll tell him what the nightmare was about.
The decision is made for me, it seems as though Elliot has indeed been thinking about it. He broaches the subject first.
“So you said the name Dylan in your sleep last night. Just before you woke up.”
I look up from my hands and stare at him.
“Who is he?”
His voice sounds almost casual, “almost” being the operative word. Underneath I can hear something else, an underlying of jealousy, hurt, anger?
“Dylan is my ex,” I pause. Do I tell him we were engaged?
“And you were dreaming about him while sharing a bed with me?”
The anger is unmistakable in his voice now.
I want to tell him that it’s none of his damn business and to get nicked. Then again, he has a point. I thought the same thing last night. I can’t lie to him; instead it’s pouring out my mouth directly from heart before I can stop myself.
“I often have nightmares that involve him. He was physically abusive and the nightmares generally reflect things that happened while we were together.”
Good one Angela. Now he is going to run for the hills. He doesn’t need someone with baggage, not this kind anyway.
“I’m sorry, baby.”
