Page 34 of Silver Foxed

He smirks. “Okay, fair. But no time like the present, Wife. Spill.”

I chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I don’t know if you know this, but Stephanie is my stepmom.”

He nods. “I did know that.”

“My mom, Grace, was a teacher when she met my dad. He likes to tell me that she loved teaching almost as much as she loved me. He told me how she couldn’t wait to go back to work when she went into remission. But then, her breast cancer spread before she could.”

“I’m so sorry, Alex. That’s terrible.”

I press my lips together. “I was so young when she died, I don’t remember her much. I’m lucky, because Stephanie has been a wonderful mom to me. But when it came time to pick a career, I knew I wanted to follow in my mom’s footsteps. Like her, I love kids. I’ve always wanted a big family, and I like working in education. Shaping young minds and all that.” I grin. “I’ve never really been into what Dad does, though I know a part of him wishes I did. And who knows? Maybe someday I’ll change paths, but I’m happy teaching right now. Even if it’s hard a lot of the time.”

“I admire you,” Elijah murmurs, kissing the crown of my head once more.

I look up at him, only seeing truth in his eyes. “You do?”

“You forged your own path, even though it would’ve been somewhat easier for you to work for Oliver. You had a built-in path, and you chose to take a new one. That takes a lot of guts, Alex. Ones I wish I had.”

My gaze turns questioning. “What do you mean?”

A sad smile plays at his lips. “I’ve lived my life how my father wanted me to. He was very old school and strict. He instilled in me that I had to get good grades, go to college, get a degree, get a job that paid well, get married. But if I had done what I wanted to do, I think I would’ve chosen a different career path and not gotten married to the first woman he approved of.”

I study him thoughtfully. “Would you be writing novels instead?”

“Maybe. Or at least doing something a bit more on the creative side. Like you, I take after my mother. She loved art, books, and watching classic films. I suppose that all rubbed off on me during my childhood. But my father hated it and always made sure I was on the path he wanted instead.”

I frown. “Why is that?”

“As I mentioned, my father was an old-school man. He worked hard to make a good life for our family. He viewed a possible career in the arts as a weakness, something I should not even consider. He believed art was only worthwhile if it was an investment of some sort or a way to flex your wealth. It’s why I enjoy paintings and architecture and another reason Oliver wanted me to come here for the weekend to stay in this house.”

He smiles softly at that.

“Those art mediums became an easy way to enjoy that part of myself without having my father question it, though I’ve always written on the side, keeping my stories secret. Only my mother knew about them. And well, now you.” He squeezes my hand. “That’s why I’d love to publish a book someday, for her. And of course, for me. To say I finally did something I wanted to do.”

My heart squeezes in my chest at everything he told me, attempting to process it all. The fact that it seems he’s never done anything just for himself, that he told me about his writing. That he’s telling me about his parents now and what seems to be all these secret parts of himself.

“Are your parents not with us anymore?” I ask quietly. I hold my hands steady in his as he grips them tighter.

“Yes. Both in the last five years.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t be. I wish they could have been around longer, but they lived good lives. And despite my father’s shortcomings, he was a good man, even if he made me angry often. He did the best he could. Same with my mother.”

I try desperately to keep the tears from my eyes and hold it together. But all I want to do is throw my arms around Elijah and hug him, to ease all the pain and loneliness I see hidden beneath his soft smile. But I manage to hold back. I stroke my thumb over the top of his hand instead.

“You know, I used to do more creative writing at Spark until I took the promotion Oliver offered me. I still do some but not a lot. I enjoyed it.”

My eyes brighten at the change of tone in his voice while revealing that. “If I know my dad, I know that if you told him that, he’d work with you to create a role better suited for you—or at least adapt the one you have now. I may not have known he was talking about you when he talks about his friend “Astor,” but I know he loves and admires you. He sent you to this house for a weekend to get some rest and relaxation and knew you would enjoy it because you like art and architecture. That shows me even more how much he cares for you. You should talk to him.”

Elijah strokes the pads of his fingers up and down my arm, his eyes unfocused. “You’re giving me a lot to think about this weekend, Alex.”

“Is that a good or a bad thing?”

He turns his gaze back to me. “I think it’s a good thing.”

I snuggle into him and turn my attention back to the screen where the couple is now getting married. My imagination takes over as I picture what a wedding to Elijah would be like. When I planned to marry Sean, it was going to be a big affair in my mind, with hundreds of dad’s friends and employees and of course, all of Sean’s. It was going to be lavish and probably in a five-star hotel because that’s what Sean liked.

I turn my attention to Elijah’s bearded jawline, the light from the TV reflecting on his masculine features. If we were to get married in real life, I think it would be in a little chapel somewhere with old stained glass windows casting rainbows on my white dress and only our close friends and family. I’d say the beach, but something tells me he wouldn’t like the sand between his toes. Maybe I could convert him.

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