Page 77 of Estranged Heart
“Yeah. I mean, I have had a great team working behind me but it’s definitely been a lot to take on at once.” He shifts in his seat, reaching for the mug my mom hands him.
“It sounds like it. Would you like any cream or sugar, hun?”
“Nah.” He blows over the top of the steaming coffee. “I like it just the way it is, thank you.”
She smiles. “Silas did too once, but so much has changed since the transplant. I wonder if the person who owned his heart before him loved tea as much as he does now. If it’s common for transplant patients to inherit some of their donor’s likes and dislikes. It would explain a lot.” My mom fills my cup with hot water, slipping in a tea bag, and Elijah tightens his fingers around his mug.
“Like what?” His eyes flicker over at my mom as she takes a seat next to me.
“Oh, like this strange paper crafting he’s been doing as one of his nervous habits. He doesn’t even remember how he learned it, but I’ve gained quite the collection all over the house in the short amount of time since he’s come to stay here. Then there’sthe tea, the recent interest in cooking, and his love for foods he once hated.”
“That is strange and kind of . . . I don’t know . . . neat, in a way,” Elijah says before taking a sip of his coffee, his eyes dropping to my chest. “It’s like being able to have two different experiences with everything.”
“Yeah, and it’s definitely odd, but I’m starting to get used to it. Having two sides of me, that is, while still trying to get to know both better.”
Neither of us say anything for a long time and my mom can’t stop staring at us, almost as if she can sense the new tension in the air. Are all these reactions to my new interests and likes, or is he still nervous meeting my mom? Does he think I might have Landon’s heart inside me too? Surely he knows his husband was a donor, but there’s something off about the way he acts the rest of the time he’s here.
His responses are short and he no longer asks questions, keeping his mouth busy with more coffee. When I walk him to his car and try to kiss him, he presses a hand to my chest. “Probably should wait for another time, unless you want to answer more questions from your mom when you get back inside.” His smirk doesn’t match his eyes.
“Yeah.” I glance over my shoulder. “You’re probably right. Although, I’ll probably get a mouthful anyway.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Probably. I better get going, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” He gives me a light pat on the shoulder and slips inside his car.
Standing here in the warm night, I wrap my arms around myself and feel gutted as I watch him drive away after looking at me the way you would a stranger.
I get back inside and sure enough, my mom is full of questions, and I wish I’d ignored Elijah’s caution and snuck a kiss anyway.I need to know we’re okay. That we’ll keep moving forward together and not go back to standing still, or backwards.
“He’s not just a friend, is he?” Mom asks, staring down at me after I lower myself onto the couch.
“I don’t know what he is, but I’m too tired to be prosecuted by my own mother tonight.”
“I only worry is all. It’s so soon and you’re still recovering from the surgery.” Eyebrows meeting, she sits beside me. “Does Stacey know?”
Inhaling a breath, I nod and slowly exhale. “She does, but she thinks it’s temporary.”
“Do you feel it is?”
“No, Ma. I don’t. I’ve never felt this way before. He’s . . . what I’ve imagined people describe falling head over heels to be like.”
She sighs, taking my hand. “Just be careful, okay. Take your time. Figure things out. It is good to see you smiling again. I only want you to be happy, and I think you’re right. You didn’t fully have that with Stacey, and I think everyone should experience whatever was floating between you two in the kitchen at least once.”
“You don’t care that it’s with a guy?”
She sits back against the cushions, looking upward. “I have to say, I was a little surprised at first, but I’m used to that happening with you these days.” She laughs. “And who you choose to love is for you to decide alone. Not me or anyone else.”
“Thanks, Ma. There’s something else.”
Her eyes blink. “What is it?”
“I think I might have gotten his husband’s heart during the transplant.”
Looking taken aback, she sits up taller. “What makes you think that?”
“Because of when his husband got into the accident. And there have been so many other factors—me liking some of the samethings, me dreaming about him before meeting him in the flower shop, and . . . just the feeling that I’ve known him for years.”
“You should talk to him about it. It’s the only way you’ll know for sure.”
“Yeah . . . but how do you even bring something like that up? I think your husband was my donor and the feelings I feel for you might be his?”
