Page 25 of Unconditionally With Me
“Didn’t you just down a million donuts?” she teases.
“Did I say the food was around here?”
“Fair point. Oh, excuse me.” Elle bumps into someone, but immediately, her jaw unhinges.
The dark-haired guy looks familiar. It isn’t until I hear a familiar voice which normally comes at me on the radio drawling, “No problem,” that I understand her reaction. He winks, tugging down a hat, and wraps his arm around a knockout blonde, who gives us a little wave before they disappear down a side street.
I give Elle a few minutes to recover before trying to reengage her. After all, it’s not every day one runs into a Grammy Award–winning musician right in the middle of the street. We walk at least two blocks before I ask, “Did that just happen?”
“I knew he lived here, but I never imagined…”
“He lives here?”
“From what I read, some sort of family thing. Most of them live in or around the city,” Elle tells me before teasing, “And how is it you don’t know where the lead singer of Nash lives? Aren’t you the Gossip Guy?”
I grouch, “Not anymore, remember? And besides, I only know about people on my turf.”
“You need to spread your wings, Julian. Just look at what we’ve already found out about Seattle in one day!”
“Obviously, if I didn’t recognize a singer.”
She punches my arm good-naturedly. “I’m being serious. You seem to be having fun. Aren’t you?”
“I am. There’s something unique about this place—so different from home.”
“It feels so clean. Like a fresh new start,” Elle inhales.
“And since we’ve eaten the fish from the water, I doubt we’d die if we swim in it,” I joke despite the churning in my stomach over her words.
“A fair point. But really? You’ve been trying to figure out what to do? Why not explore the US?”
I stop dead in my tracks, ignoring the muttering of pedestrians behind us. “What do you mean?” I demand.
“Something like a New Yorker’s view of America maybe? Instead of ‘The Gossip Guy’ you could be ‘The Travel Guide’?”
“I think there’s a channel for that.” I grab her hand to cross the street. But she resists.
“Or ‘The Go-To Guy’! A New Yorker’s guide to life outside the city. Not everything would have to be huge trips like this. Think of just navigating to the island or to a flea market. Or even to go skiing!” Elle grins. “I can just imagine you on the slopes.” She skips ahead of me, her laughter pealing over her shoulder.
I’m frozen in place because the scary thing is, it’s kind of perfect. But what terrifies me is all the singular pronouns she used.
Where does Elle fit into the picture she just painted?
Chapter 10
~Eleanor~
During luxurious high tea at the Georgian inside the Fairmont Olympic, which included sumptuous scones dripping in honey beneath elegant crystal chandeliers and regal arched Palladian windows, Julian and I spent hours talking.
I’ve never felt closer to tears than when the man I love reached across the table, while trying not to upend the tea tray, and declared, “I don’t care where we go or what we do so long as we’re together, Elle. Because that’s where my happiness is.”
“But Julian,” I began to protest.
He just squeezed my hand to silence me. “I’m serious. If we go to see this building tomorrow before the lawyer and it speaks to you, we’ll figure something out.”
I know in his heart Julian believes too much time has passed to get us to this place where this openness exists between us, but I needed to make him understand. “Jules, I need you to believe me.”
“What’s that?”
