Page 119 of Under Your Scars
He chuckles. “You kidding? It’s every couple’s dream to have a billionaire come to their wedding.” Travis pokes me with his elbow. “I’ll be expecting no less than a quarter of a million as a wedding present.”
I’m the one to laugh this time. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
From across the room, Elena licks mashed potatoes off a spoon before throwing it into the sink, and I wink at her and mouth ‘I love you’.
She winks back.
When dinner is ready and the table is set, Elena pats a chair next to her for me to sit in. Elliot and Bethany sit on the ends of the table. Elena and I sit on one side, and Travis and Justin sit on the other. I get the questionable luck of sitting next to Elliot. Once Elena is in her seat, I drag her chair a bit closer to me.
Her family settles into soft chatter while they fill their plates. I go rigid in my seat, staring at the dishes blankly.
“Christian,” Bethany says from her side of the table, and I look at her. “Don’t stand on ceremony, honey. Please help yourself.”
“It’s not that,” I tell her, and Elena looks at me. I don’t break her stare as I explain. “My parents died when I was a kid. I haven’t spent Thanksgiving with a family in a very long time.”
“You’re welcome to come spend time with our family whenever you want.” Bethany lifts her wine glass. “To family.”
We all repeat her toast, clinking our glasses together.
The backs of my eyes begin to burn, and I excuse myself from the table to run to the bathroom before the tears fall out of them. I wipe my face with a tissue and glance at myself in the mirror.
For the first time in a long time, the man in the mirror staring back at me isn’t so bad.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Elena blows me a kiss.I take my seat next to her again, and midway through dinner, Elliot clears his throat around a bite of stuffing.
“Beth, you know I love your cooking.”
“Oh, no,” Bethany teases.
Elliot gives her a grin, but there’s something…malicious about it.
And I don’t think it’s directed at Bethany.
“I just can’t help but remember the best Thanksgiving stuffing I’ve ever had. When I lived in Meridian City, my Diana loved this diner on the North Side. They had a Thanksgiving food drive every year, and the owner made the best stuffing.” Another unnerving smile crosses his face and his eyes flicker to me. “You been to the North Side recently?”
“The North Side doesn’t exactly exist anymore.” I shrug. “I turned that side of the island into an orphanage in memoriam to my parents.”
Bethany puts her hand over her heart. “That’s beautiful, Christian. Truly beautiful.”
Elliot sighs. “Man, that’s a shame. IlovedFat Lou’s.”
My heart falls straight out of my chest and onto the floor. I can’t find it in me to tell him that Fat Lou’s doesn’t exist anymore.
Because I burnt it to the ground when I was eighteen.
It’s the middle of the night. I’m staring at the ceiling of Elena’s childhood bedroom, painted a soft shade of pastel purple. She’s sound asleep next to me, facing away. Her cold feet are pressed against my warm legs.
I can’t sleep.
I need a cigarette.
I carefully shift out of the bed, quietly throwing on a shirt and finding my cigarette case and lighter before stepping out of the bedroom and softly closing the door behind me. I walk downstairs and out the front door, inhaling deeply when a soft breeze meets me.
I sit down in a rocker and light up a cigarette that I finish in two drags. I light another and savor this one, rocking back and forth gently.
I’m sitting outside for an hour and on my fourth cigarette when I hear the door open behind me. I turn to look. Elliot walks out with a strange combination of things in his hands. Two glasses of scotch. A pistol. A manila file folder. He sets it all down on the small table between us and slumps into the other rocker. Then he hands me one of the glasses.
“Thanks,” I say cautiously.
