Page 58 of Stick Work

Taylor blinks at me, her expression sheepish. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my place. I overstepped and it was wrong.” She blinks at me again, a little more playfully this time. “Are you mad?”

I chuckle at her antics. “I’m not mad, and I’ll prove that to you later when we get home. But right now, I’d love to go out to dinner to celebrate the end of exams. I booked us a table at La Rue Bistro. I can probably get really good lasagna there. No need for Avery to get takeout from the Nook,” I tease. I expect a laugh, a playful quip, something. Instead Taylor goes quiet, her gaze dropping, and my stomach tightens when I realize why.

“While that sounds nice, Elias…”

She fidgets, her words falling off, and for a second I think she’s going to end this whole thing and if she doesn’t, I should. She’s young and in college. She shouldn’t be hanging out with an older guy like me, going to fancy dinners. She should be out partying at the bar with her friends, having a good time, living her life and making memories. I might be a homebody, even wanting to go straight to the sofa after dinner tonight, when it’s still early, but she’s not me. Am I trying to change her, make her into something I am, and she’s not? Christ, she’s going to resent me for that. What the hell is wrong with me?

“You’re right. You should go hang with your friends. I can take you home to get changed and even drive you downtown and pick you up if you like.” I quickly pull back into traffic and start home, the lump in my stomach growing. She feels this obligation to me, to be my pretend girlfriend. But she’s missing out because of it, and maybe she doesn’t want to do it anymore. Maybe that’s why she brought Avery into all this. Fuck.

“Elias,” she explains softly, her hand landing on my arm. “La Rue Bistro sounds amazing and I’m starving, but I’m tired, and not dressed well enough for a place like that.”

“Sure. I get it,” I say, keeping my tone casual.

“I don’t think you do.” I cast her a fast glance as she shakes her head, a smile tugging at her lips. “What I’d really like is to go back to your place, order food in, light a fire and watch some mind-numbing romantic comedy, starring Adam Sandler of course, while you rub my tired feet. I mean it is the least you could do.”

“You and your love for Adam Sandler.” I laugh, the knot in my chest loosening. “But I don’t want to keep you from going out to the bar.”

“You’re not keeping me from anything. But lasagna from La Rue Bistro really does sound amazing. Not as good as Grandma’s, but still.”

“I’ll take you home, run you a warm bath, and while you’re soaking, I’ll call in our order.” I take her hand. “As long as that’s what you really want to do.”

“It is.”

I smile at her. “We can eat in front of the TV, with a blazing fire.”

“I think you might be forgetting something.” I arch a brow and she laughs. “Foot rub.”

“Right, I’ll rub whatever you need rubbed, sweet girl.” I wink at the woman who has my heart in the palm of her hand. “It’s the least I can do.”

She grins, and exhales an exasperated sigh. “The least…”

17

Taylor

It was an incredible Christmas Eve with Elias. I loved that it was just the two of us, relaxing with a glass of wine, while devouring a delicious pu pu platter from Elias’s favorite Chinese restaurant. As we ate, we sat on the sofa watching a holiday movie in front of a sparsely decorated tree—sadly, Charlie Brown’s got nothing on us. But decorations will come in time, and the ornament collection will take years, each one representing some special trip or occasion. Heck, Kalen and I still have our baby’s first Christmas ornament.

Now here it is, Christmas morning, and we’re in his bedroom getting ready to have dinner at my brother’s. I can’t wait to get there, not just to see my family and meet Sahara’s, but to see her new library.

We all drew names for gifts, because there will be so many people at dinner, but I gave Elias a special gift last night and he gave me one. I can’t believe he gave me Broadway tickets to a play I’ve been dying to see in New York. I shouldn’t be so surprised. He’s pretty tuned into my needs. I made him Grandma’s special lasagna for dinner, and while I don’t think it compared, he said it was the best gift ever.

A little bubble of excitement builds inside me as I think about how much fun I’ve been having since this ruse began. When was I ever this happy? I’m not sure but I truly am excited to meet all of Sahara’s big family, and I’m also really looking forward to seeing Dad and his partner Miles. I’m so glad that Kalen and Dad patched things up after far too many years of animosity.

I can’t deny that I’m secretly looking forward to Elias meeting my dad. It’s strange, I mean it’s not like we’re a real couple, and I need his approval. But I really hope they like him. It’s a foolish thought because, come on, what’s not to like? The guy is kind, warm, giving and cares so much about other people—even going so far as to have me pose as his girlfriend. Not just to shut down his parents interfering, but because he loves them and wants to fulfil their dreams of seeing him married with children. He just needs to do it on his timeline, not theirs.

I guess it’s too bad that he wasn’t interested in Avery in a romantic way. She even came out to a game, and then to the pub with us afterward to celebrate the win. Elias was nice to her—he’s nice to everyone—but she ended up going home with Roman. I should have seen that coming. But really it’s too bad she wasn’t the one.

Is it, though, Taylor? Are you really disappointed?

I shut down that inner voice, because the idea of Elias with Avery—or any woman—fills me with an odd rush of jealousy. I honestly wish I wasn’t so happy that Elias and Avery didn’t have a spark. But I am and I can’t go there. Although I think I already have…

Elias comes from the bathroom, smoothing his hand over his button-down shirt like some handsome model. I don’t even think the man knows how good looking he is. I laugh at him and he pauses, tilting his head like an adorably confused puppy.

“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes as he zeroes in on me. But that confusion morphs into desire as his gaze moves down my body to my curve-hugging Christmas dress decorated in gingerbread men.

“You’re buttoned up wrong.”

He glances down to see the mismatched buttons and groans. “Damn.”

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