“What are you doing here, Elliot?”
“Can’t a brother come see his baby sister at work?” he asks, spreading his hands in question.
I blink slowly at him. “I suppose a brother could. But he never has before.”
He sighs as though I’m making this supremely difficult on him. I bite my tongue against the urge to apologize.
“I was in the area. I had to go to St. Paul’s for a meeting. I could be up for a new position there in the fall.”
He pauses, looking at me expectantly.
“Congratulations,” I say as Denise returns with his coffee and my tea. “I didn’t know you wanted to leave Surrey Memorial.”
He shrugs. “It’s more money. How could I refuse?”
“Right.”
Denise gives me a small smile, then departs. I want to call her back, tell her I need her to stay, but there really isn’t any reason for her to, and there’s no sense in both our afternoons being thrown off by this visit.
“Addie, I wanted to come here to talk to you,” Elliot says, leaning forward and interrupting my thoughts. “What happened last weekend?”
I blink, confused. “You were there, Elliot. You saw what happened.”
“Why did you bring that guy to dinner? You had to know Mom and Dad would pitch a fit. And the tattoo. Addie, what were you thinking? Are you going through a midlife crisis?”
My mouth drops open in shock. “Elliot, I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m not having a midlife crisis.”
He picks up his coffee and sits back in his chair. “Then what? Mom and Dad were really upset the way you left like that. And kissing him on the front step? Riding off on his motorcycle? We’re worried about you.”
He says it all like he is truly worried about me, concern lacing his every word.
I want to tell him it’s none of his business, that I can kiss whomever I want, ride on whichever motorcycle I want. I want to tell him that my body is not to be policed by other people. I can get tattoos and piercings or do anything I want to it, because it’s mine.
I don’t. Instead, my gaze drops to the edge of my desk and I say, “I’m sorry Mom and Dad were upset.”
As much as I’d love to say all those things, I hate confrontation more. However, I’ve also learned how to issue an apology that isn’t a real one.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine eventually. Maybe wear long sleeves when you come to visit. At least for a while. And don’t bring that guy again.”
I look up. “That guyis my boyfriend, Elliot.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Dating someone like him?” He gives me a pitying look before taking a sip of his coffee.
I feel my temper flare. They can come down on me all they want, but my family does not get to come after my friends. Or my boyfriend.
“You don’t know anything about Nate,” I say. “He’s a good man, a successful business owner, and an amazing father.”
“Singlefather,” Elliot points out. “You have to think about that, Addie. The man couldn’t make it work with his kid’s mother. Why do you think he can make it work with you?”
“If you just came here to shit talk my boyfriend, you can leave the way you came in.”
I pick up my tea and take a sip, setting it down again before he can see my hands trembling, trying to not let Elliot know how fast my heart is racing. I would never have said something like that to him a few months ago.
He holds one hand up in a placating gesture. “Okay. I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you get hurt or taken advantage of, that’s all. Guys like him are bad news.”
My hands ache and when I glance at them, I realize I’ve clenched them into fists. I loosen my grip and try to keep an even tone. “Why? Because of the motorcycle, or because of the tattoos?”
Elliot sighs as though I’m not getting his point at all. “Addie, I didn’t come here to fight.”