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Then she asked quietly, “Are you religious?”
“No,” Elias said. “But I believe in faith. And I believe in making sure people like you have the freedom to live it.”
There was a long silence.
She looked between us, then tilted her head. “So what is this? Some kind of long-game seduction?”
“Em,” I warned, but Elias just smiled.
“No seduction necessary,” he said. “Vivi already said yes to something bigger than a night. And I’m not letting go.”
I turned toward him slowly. “I did?”
He raised a brow. “Didn’t you?”
I swallowed. My pulse was skittering against my ribs. “Yeah. I guess I did.”
“I’m not in this for the thrill,” he said. “I’m in it for you. Whatever that looks like. Mess and all.”
Emmaline narrowed her eyes. “Vivi, is this a fling you’re going to regret? Or is this one of those all-in, no-return kinds of things?”
I looked over at Elias, and for once, I didn’t feel uncertain.
“I think I’ve been falling for him since the day I saw him huddled over Teresa’s computer in the Charleston Crescent Ballet Company’s office,” I said.
Elias smirked. “Same. That day was it for me.”
“And I think,” I added, “I’m finally ready to stop pretending I don’t want more.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was solid. Grounded. Like something real had settled into the cracks between us.
Emmaline sank slowly onto the sofa. “Okay,” she said finally, voice soft. “I’ll have to talk to my husband, of course, but okay. We’ve been dreaming of a chance to start fresh. We didn’t know how it would come about.”
She wasn’t saying she trusted Elias. Not yet. But she was saying she trusted me.
And that meant everything.
I sank down beside her, our shoulders touching. Elias stayed standing, a quiet presence with promise in his posture.
There were still hard conversations to have. Legal hoops. Logistics. Maybe some disbelief when our mom saw a new city outside her window.
But for the first time in a long time, I believed something could be different.
We stayed like that for a long moment. Three people in a too-small living room, trying to reassemble our lives from the scraps.
Then Elias shifted. “I can have a car ready by morning,” he said. “We’ll fly to New Orleans on my jet. I’ve got a contact who can help smooth the paperwork—expedite the discharge, make sure there’s no red tape.”
Emmaline turned to him, still a little stunned. “You’re serious?”
He nodded. “Completely.”
I hesitated, something cold creeping up the back of my neck. “Norton said I wasn’t supposed to leave Charleston. Not yet. That there could be legal trouble if I did.”
Elias’s gaze sharpened, protective. “I know. And I’ll take care of it.”
“How?” I asked, not quite ready to believe anything could be that simple.
“I’ve already made some calls,” he said calmly. “By morning, your travel restriction will be officially paused. Temporary exemption, documented and signed. I know the language they need to hear. And I know the people who answer the phones.”