Page 17 of Unconditionally With Me
My hand smooths over Elle’s peaches-and-cream skin distractedly as she curls into my side. The room is so quiet, I can hear the small hitch in her breathing as she sleeps, giving me time to contemplate everything that happened—not just today but for the last few years.
I met Elle the day my brother got married to her best friend. Since Jonas and Trina were living together with her young children beforehand, they elected not to do anything elaborate for their wedding—just close friends and family. And for Trina, no one was closer than Elle.
The few times they tried to get us to meet beforehand, our schedules never synchronized—one or the other of us was working. So, it wasn’t until I was done making sure Jonas didn’t dash down the aisle to snatch up Trina’s hand that I caught sight of the curvaceous redhead.
I’ve never taken my eyes away from her since.
But Elle was impossible to pin down for a date. Her snarky “Wow. Isn’t that something you say when you can’t find a date to the prom?” when I finally convinced her a night out with me would be beyond her wildest expectations made me crack up.
And now as I think back over the last three years, how many times did Elle guide the conversation away from herself? Ask questions about me? How much do I know about the woman I’m holding in my arms, the woman I was planning on asking to marry me?
It’s shocking to realize I don’t know her favorite color or her favorite city, but I bet she could name mine. I know where she went to cooking school, but that’s because she went to the same place as Trina—not because Elle shared. I don’t even know anything about her family.
And suddenly, I wonder if it’s possible to feel love for someone you don’t know those salient details about. Is it?
Reaching out to the nightstand, I grab my phone and start to text Jonas. Then I conclude, I can’t. This is between me and Elle. She needs to know I’m her safe place, and no matter what wounds we leave on each other in the next few weeks, I always will be.
Because that’s what love is.
That’s what it always will be between us.
With that thought, I settle down and close my eyes. Within moments, I drift off, but sleep doesn’t come easily.
* * *
Morning comes too soon.I hear pans being rattled about in the kitchen, so I’m not immediately concerned when Elle’s not in bed next to me. I tug on my jeans. Unable to find my shirt, I follow the smell of french toast and freshly brewed coffee.
I find Elle wearing the missing garment as she flips over another few pieces of toast and stirs something slowly in a pot. I lean against the jamb and just watch the ease of her movements. There’s a calmness she exudes in a kitchen that just spreads whenever I get the opportunity to observe her. “What I wouldn’t do to watch you at work,” I remark.
Her head twists, and she smiles. “Why?”
“Because you look so peaceful when you cook.” I saunter up to her and wrap my arms around her waist. I nuzzle against her neck. “Good morning.”
“Good afternoon,” she counters.
“What? Really?”
She tips her chin toward the clock over the stove. “Well, damn. I haven’t slept that late in forever.”
After shifting both the pans off the heat, she turns in my arms. Resting her hands on my chest, she observes, “Maybe the vacation will be good for you as well.”
“Maybe it will be.” I run my hands up her arms, and she winces slightly. I frown. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Are you hungry?”
“Elle,” I say firmly. I begin to unbutton my shirt.
She protests, “Julian.”
But I already spot what she’s trying to protect me from—myself. I rub my thumb over the light bruise on her arm. “I did this.” It’s not a question.
“I bruise easily,” she starts, but I hush her.
“I’m sorry, Elle. With everything inside of me, I apologize. I had no right to do the things I did last night.” I wince, recalling how my fingers halted her movements.
“Accepted. But Julian, there’s no need—”
I lay my fingers against the side of her face. “Yes, there is. What would you tell Trina if Jonas did something like I did?”
