Page 29 of Cherished Lands
Elliot pursed his lips and nodded. Nothing left to say, he stood from his seat and began collecting the dishes.
I scraped a glob of scrambled eggs into the pull-out trash can while Elliot cleared the remaining plates. Without discussion, he filled one side of the double sink with steaming water and squirted in dish soap. The familiar scent of Dawn cut through the lingering breakfast aromas.
We fell into an easy rhythm—him washing, me drying. Our elbows brushed occasionally as he handed me clean dishes, but neither of us pulled away. The clink of plates and gentle slosh of water provided a soothing soundtrack to our companionable silence.
I snuck glances at his profile as he methodically worked through the stack of dishes. For once, his jaw wasn't clenched. No furrowed brow. Just calm focus as his large hands moved efficiently through the soapy water.
We worked together like we'd done this a thousand times before. No awkward bumping or reaching for the same thing at the wrong moment. Just a natural give and take, an unspoken understanding of space and timing.
Since when did doing dishes feel so intimate?
The doorbell rang, and Jay hollered from the other room. "I'll get it."
Murmurs drifted in from the entryway, the words too muffled to make out. Moments later, Jay poked his head around the corner. "Tessa? Someone's here to see you."
My heart plummeted.Shit, how did Dad find me so quickly?
The thought no sooner crossed my mind than I remembered that Dad had always insisted on knowing where to find me atall times. My phone, charging upstairs in Elliot's room, had given me away.
I dried my hands on the dishtowel, aware of Elliot's eyes following me as I headed for the door. A man in a dark peacoat stood just inside the entryway, his expression professionally neutral.
"Are you Tessa Belmonte?"
"Yes."
He extended a large white envelope. "You've been served."
The envelope feltheavy in my hands, like it contained more than just paper. It carried the weight of my father's disappointment, his rage, his determination to control every aspect of my life.
Goddamn it.
"Have a good day," the process server said, already turning to leave.
The click of the closing door echoed through my bones. My fingers trembled as I stared at my name, typed in bold black letters across the front of the envelope.
"Everything okay?" Jay asked from behind me.
I said nothing. Didn't move. Couldn't.
"Tessa?"
"H-he's suing me."
"He— Ah, shit." Jay let out a long sigh. "Em! Get in here."
Footsteps came from both directions.
"What's wrong, honey?" Emma appeared in front of me andput her hands on my shoulders. Elliot must have been nearby because his citrus and cedarwood scent was intoxicatingly close. I wanted to smother myself in it. To curl up and cry against his strong chest because myfuckingfatherwas suing me.
I handed Emma the envelope, turned toward the living room, and walked on autopilot until I sank into the sectional. As I stared unseeing at the Christmas movie on the TV, I heard Elliot say, "I'm opening it."
"Elliot Michael," Emma said, "that is a federal crime."
Despite knowing what was waiting in that envelope, I found myself fighting back a smile. Somehow these people—kind and generous and loving—made even the worst things better.
The rip of paper told me Elliot had ignored his mother's warning. Not that I minded.
"What's it say?" Jay asked.
