Page 62 of Under Your Scars
“Christian?” Edwin asks into the comfortable silence. Christian hums and turns his attention to Edwin. “Will you do a puzzle with me?”
“Of course,” Christian answers between a bite of French toast. “It will have to be later though; I have some stuff to do today. I promise we will when we get back. Why don’t you pick one out and get it ready for us? Elena can help too.”
“Who’s Elena?” Edwin asks. It doesn’t faze me in the slightest. This is the first time we’ve met, and he’s clearly got severe memory problems. I can’t blame him for not remembering. Christian purses his lips like he’s frustrated.
“She’s right next to you, Edwin,” Christian mutters. I reach behind Edwin’s chair to run my hand along Christian’s arm.
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s not a big deal.”
Abruptly, Christian stands up from his seat and stomps out of the room. I don’t understand why he’s been so weird all morning. I excuse myself from Edwin’s side and the nurse comes to take over talking to him. I wander through the house until I find Christian. He’s in the backyard smoking a cigarette while standing near the edge of the pool. I hesitantly approach him. He looks over his shoulder at me, but he says nothing.
“Hey. Are you okay?” I cross my arms over my chest to keep my hands warm in the cool air and wait for him to answer. The wind carries the smoke from his cigarette directly into my face.
“It’s nothing, Elena. Drop it.”
“And here I thought we were working on our communication skills.” He turns to face me, and his eyes trail up and down my body before settling on my face. He pulls the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers and scratches over his eyebrow.
He takes a deep breath. “It’s just…I don’t appreciate when people go along with whatever bullshit Edwin’s brain is making him believe. I don’t think it’s good for him. The point of hiring 24/7 care for him is that it gives him a routine to stick to, and routines are easier for him to remember. I’ve fired a dozen nurses for pretending to be Helen. I don’t allow people to lie to him.”
“Oh,” I say, my heart squeezing painfully. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He looks up at the sky and sighs. “Just don’t do it again.”
“Okay,” I concede. I understand Christian’s position, even if I don’t agree with it myself. But that’s the reason he’s the one making all the decisions. He knows Edwin best, and he’s clearly well taken care of. I need to respect this boundary Christian’s put in place. I apologize again softly, to let him know I mean it, and his face instantly softens. He takes my chin between his thumb and knuckle and tilts my face up to kiss me.
“I’m sorry too. Edwin’s all I’ve got. I’m sensitive about him, is all. I didn’t mean to storm out.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
Satisfied with our apologies to each other, we fall into comfortable silence while he finishes his cigarette. When he’s done, he discards the end and takes my hand to lead me back into the mansion.
“I’m going to grab my suit jacket from my room before we leave,” he says, letting go of my hand and walking up the stairs.
“Leave? If wherever we’re going requires you to wear a suit, shouldn’t I wear something a little more professional?” I ask, motioning down at my long sleeve t-shirt, leggings, and sneakers.
He smirks. “You lookperfect. Always.”
Four hours later, we’re seven interviews deep into candidates for the new Secretary of the Board for the orphanage. Christian told the mayor he was going to offer the position to me, but February is still a few months away and he needs someone now.
When he asked if I was disappointed, I smiled and truthfully told him I didn’t mind. I’m not sure if I really would have been a good fit for the position when I have zero experience. He promised me that if I ever changed my mind, he’d make a co-chair spot for me.
I rub my fingers against my scalp and groan when the last candidate leaves the room. “If I hear the phrase‘I’m a team player’one more time, I’m going to stab myself with this pen.”
Christian chuckles and rolls his seat over to me, where I’ve been taking notes for him while he conducts the interviews. “That was the last one. Promise.” He kisses my cheek and tells the assistant in the office building to scan my notes and email them to him as we’re walking out the door. As we approach the car, I tug backwards on his hand to stop him.
“Before we go…can I please get a milkshake from the arcade? I think they put crack in them here, because they’re so good.”
Christian laughs. “Whatever you want. Come on.”
One milkshake in hand later, I check the high scores for bowling, giving Christian a satisfied grin when I’m still number one.
“Still miffed about that,” he mumbles into my ear.
“Hey, you got off easy. You said I could have anything I wanted if I won, and all I asked for was an office. I should have asked for a zebra or something.” I gasp. “No wait! I should have asked for all your stock in your company.” I fall into the small couch in front of one of the bowling lanes dramatically and sigh. “Wow, I really blew it, didn’t I? I could be rich!”
Christian sits down next to me and lets me rest my head in his lap while I lick whipped cream off my straw. “It would have been a waste, baby. My stock will be your stock once we’re married.”
I playfully roll my eyes and wave my bare ring finger at him for emphasis. “I don’t see you asking.”
