Page 20 of The Lonely Hearts Guide

Elliot closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, calming himself when all he felt was panic. “Ever since our fateful meeting on Sugarplum Island—” Elliot stopped himself when Alexander snickered. He wasn’t sure what that was about, but he didn’t let it stop him. “As I was saying, ever since our fateful meeting on Sugarplum Island . . .” Elliot blinked in confusion as Alexander’s snicker stretched into a full-blown giggle. The sound and sight were both adorable, but Elliot couldn’t help but worry he was being laughed at rather than laughed with. His cheeks burned with shame, and he stared down at their woven fingers. It reminded him of when Jared would laugh at him for his stupidity. He didn’t want Alexander to think of him that way. “Please don’t laugh at me.”

He must have sounded grief-stricken, because Alexander’s grip tightened, and he raked his thumbs across Elliot’s knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, I promise. Well, I guess I kind of was, but not in a cruel way. It’s just the way you talk, it’s like something out of a fairytale. It reminds me of those old Disney movies my mom and I would watch when I was little.” His grip tightened even more. “I swear, I wasn't trying to be cruel. I love the way you talk.”

“You do?”

“So much,” Alexander admitted. “You’re adorable. Go on, then. What about that fateful day?”

Adorable?Elliot’s heart skipped a beat. “It’s just, I can’t remember a lot of what happened. It feels like someone has cut holes in my memory and filled them with—”

“Frosting,” Alexander finished for him. “Yeah, you mentioned that last time. That sometimes you lost days and weeks at a time.”

“I said that?”

“You mentioned the missing holes, and how they felt like frosting, like you could scoop your fingers through them.”

Elliot thought he heard something click in the background but figured it was simply Mrs. Peppercorn getting fresh with Rodolfo, so he ignored the sound, nodding at Alexander.

“I think someone’s stolen them from me. They didn’t take them all, though. There are a few that stuck around, and I try and try to get them back, but they just flicker around my head and vanish. It hurts too much to try to remember.” He looked down at his baby bump. “I don’t even remember this. My brother Periwinkle said I must be six months along by now, but I can’t remember having it implanted inside me.” He looked up at Alexander, his eyes pleading. “Did I have it when we met last week? Because I don’t remember having a bump on the island.”

When Alexander’s expression fell, it sent Elliot’s hair standing on end. He must have mucked up somehow, but he couldn’t figure out what he might have said to make the man look so sad. “What’s wrong? Have I spoken out of turn? I apologize, Master Davenport, it’s just, I don’t know—I don’t want—” He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Please, don’t be cross with me. Whatever I’ve done, I’m sorry.”

“Elliot,” Alexander murmured, pulling Elliot in for a hug. “Oh, you sweet, sweet boy. I’m not mad, I promise. Your timeline is just a little off.” He rubbed his hand up and down Elliot’s spine, sending chills racing across his body.

“I don’t know what that means.” He felt overcome with so many emotions. Fear of being caught by Mother. Relief at finding the silhouette he’d been chasing for however long. Maybe even the smallest hint of hope. Tears dripped from Elliot’s cheek onto Alexander’s tuxedo jacket, and he felt horrible for ruining his outfit, but he couldn’t pull away. No one had ever held him the way Alexander held him. It wasn’t rough and full of fire, the way Master Price’s hugs usually were. It also wasn’t soft and familial like the ones he received from Periwinkle after returning to Genevieve. No, Alexander’s hugs were warm like a sweater or a cozy fire. He wanted more. More sweaters. More fire to warm him up in a way he’d never been warmed before. “What did you mean about my timeline being off?”

Alexander sighed like the weight of the world rested on his shoulder. “Elliot . . .”

“What he means”—a woman with a creole accent said from behind them. Elliot looked over his shoulder, his heart stopping momentarily when he saw Mother standing at the door—”is that it’s been five years since you met.”

Darling, if there’s one thing I know, it’s cranky children. As I recall, you were quite the crankster, yourself—always sobbing or whining about something. I cannot count the times you showed up at my office door (despite being forbidden from bothering me whilst working), tears fresh in your eyes, complaining about one of your brothers bullying you. And, do you remember what I would tell you?

Buck up. One foot in front of the other.

It’s a mantra that is tried and true, my precious Elliot. When your child gives you grief, Mother wants you to sit them down, look them square in the eye, and tell them to, “Buck up.” If they continue crying, threaten to give them something to cry about. And Elliot, perhaps most importantly: follow through with that promise. I know spankings are a bit declasse, these days, but, as the Good Book says, “Spare the rod, spoil the child.” Did you claim to hate me when I took you over my knee? Yes (and I’m still waiting for an apology). Do you actually hate me? Of course, not. I’m your mother, and good boys never hate their mothers.

Of course, this is provided Jared Price allows you to spank his child. Make sure to ask permission first, otherwise you might find yourself over his knee instead.

I love you with my whole heart, Elliot. Buck up.

Elliot couldn’t breathe. Though he didn’t need oxygen to survive, the realization that he could no longer draw breath sent Elliot into a panic-stricken tailspin. He clutched at his throat like it might somehow make it easier to breathe. It didn’t.

Five years.

Five years?

But he only just met Alexander the week before. Alexander walked him across Sugarplum Island and gave him a goodbye kiss. It felt like only yesterday, even if he couldn’t remember much of the morning.

Elliot slammed his eyes shut and focused on what was tangible. A cool sea breeze rushing across his face through the opened door. Pain in his palms from where his nails were digging into his skin. A hand on his cheek. Alexander’s breath on his face as he whispered into Elliot’s ear. Elliot couldn’t understand what Alexander was saying, but his tone was undeniable. He was worried. He sounded just as panicked as Elliot.

The moment Alexander’s lips pressed against Elliot’s forehead, the automaton’s big, brown eyes fluttered open. Gone was the worry over all his lost time. Gone was the fear of what Mother might do to him now that he’d been caught. All that remained was the look of care and concern in Alexander’s eyes.

“Mr. Alexander Davenport of Dallas, Texas,” Elliot whispered, smiling for what felt like the first time in ages. “I remembered you. I’ve always remembered you.”

“I remembered you, too, Elliot.” He stroked Elliot’s cheek.

“You kissed me. On the island, you gave me a kiss.” His arms crushed Alexander’s waist, refusing to let go. Looking up, Elliot stared into Alexander’s eyes, blinking back tears. “I don’t remember what happened after, but it feels like that kiss meant the world to me at the time. Thank you.”

“Oh, Elliot.”

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