CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FLAILING

ELLE

Now

I’ve avoided Rhodes all week. His texts, his calls. I know I’m being weird and it’s like I can’t even stop myself. Every time I think back on the other night, I die all over again.

I wasn’t expecting to have Rhodes in my car anytime soon, and I’ve been listening through the audiobook of It Was Always You before it goes live next month. I’ve been so excited about getting an audio deal, I’ve tried to listen during every break from work, and I have to say, these narrators have brought the book to life in ways I wasn’t expecting.

Like the sex scenes, for example.

But damn …of all the idiotic things for me to forget to check before letting Rhodes in my car.

He’s been funny, saying things like, Have I lost you to that sexy man voice?

And, Where are you? Wait, you’re driving again, aren’t you? Damn, my dirty bird.

I’ve cracked up and simultaneously endured another mortification with each message. Neither one of us likes when the other doesn’t respond right away. We’re very co-dependent that way. So I know it’s probably bugging him that I’ve gone radio silent.

I drive home from the chiropractor’s office, exhausted. I stayed up late writing, then worked a few hours at the office after practice this morning. I barely have time to change out of my work clothes for dinner at my parents’ and still make it on time.

I love Dr. Alan and Dr. Sarah so much. They’re a dream to work for, but it’s getting harder to keep up with it all. The chiropractor’s office has been the perfect job and they’ve been willing to have me fill in when I can, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep pulling it off. I’m drained when I get home from practices and it’s been harder to write because of that. Being a Mustangs cheerleader is really more than a full-time job when it’s all said and done, and as much as I love it, I don’t want anything to get in the way of my writing.

I got a call from my agent last night, excited about potential movie interest in It Was Always You . I can’t even let myself get too excited yet. She insisted that these things take time, but the fact that I’m even on a movie exec’s radar just blows my mind. She also brought up, as she always does, all the requests she gets for me to make appearances at different bookstores and libraries and book events all over the country, and I let her down gently again, saying I’m still not willing to go public with my identity.

I pull into my parents’ driveway and walk up to their door, giving it a slight knock before carefully opening it. It always feels weird to come home and not just walk right in the door, but walking in on your parents naked on the couch is not something you can unsee.

“Hey,” I call. “Anybody home?”

“In the kitchen,” my mom calls.

I walk through the living room and inhale when I step into the kitchen. It smells like pasta and garlic bread. My stomach growls. I haven't eaten like that since I started cheering. But what's one night going to do? I did pay for the eggnog the other night, but it was worth it. If I had been sober for that car ride home with Rhodes, the whole experience would have been a thousand times worse.

My mom stops in her tracks when she sees me and looks me over.

“What are you wearing?” she asks, expressionless due to the Botox, but it’s all there in her tone.

She’s wearing a silk blouse and black dress pants despite making an Italian dinner. I know better than to show up looking sloppy, but I tried to make an effort with my sweater dress. Yes, it's a shorter length and has a lower neckline than what I would’ve been allowed to wear growing up, but I'm fully covered.

“A sweater dress,” I say, laughing awkwardly .

She tsks. “That’s an awful lot of cleavage you're showing,” she says.

I try to pull up the neck to hide the millimeter of cleavage I see, but it's no use. This material is not going anywhere.

“Can I help?” I change the subject.

“No, it’s all ready. Everything’s on the table, but this dish and the bread. Doug, it’s ready,” she calls. “Why don’t you head to the dining room?”

“Okay, babe,” he calls back from his office.

I pick up the bread basket and follow my mom into the dining room and am about to sit down, when my dad walks in.

With Bernard right behind him.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Dad says.

Bernard lifts a hand at me in a stiff wave, a sheepish expression on his face.

“What are you doing here?” I mutter.

“Bernard just stopped by and I invited him to stay,” Dad says, grinning his wide isn’t this amazing s mile.

“That’s…something.” My voice is deadpan, as is the look I shoot Bernard, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

My dad comes over to hug me and then lifts his eyebrows in exaggeration. “Goodness…who do we have here? Britney Spears?”

He thinks he’s saying something inflammatory, but he has no idea what a fan I am of that woman. I was a preteen when Britney Spears’ song “Toxic” came out and I watched the music video in secret so many times, eventually making up my own choreography that I taught Rhodes six years later in college. We also have a routine for “I’m a Slave 4 U” that we still pull out when we want a good laugh. It’s sexy as all hell to see Rhodes shaking his fine body to that song. I like to think I’m somewhat responsible for the Britney dance numbers I’ve seen Rhodes and his Mustangs besties do over the years. It is gold.

“Elle?”

I blink and turn to my mom, who’s waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry. What?” I clear my throat.

“I was just asking if you’d seen Bernard’s new house yet,” she says.

“No.” I shake my head. Why would I have seen my ex’s house?

“It’s beautiful,” my mom gushes. “Four bedrooms, a nice big yard…”

“That’s great,” I tell Bernard.

“It’ll be the perfect place to raise a family,” she says, smiling at Bernard before directing her gaze on me. “It’s a much more practical space than that huge place Rhodes has. I worry about Levi near the lake...”

“Mom—”

“Well, you have to know we’re all worried about you…with this news about Rhodes,” she says.

I’d intended to set the record straight about Rhodes over dinner tonight…when it was supposed to be just the three of us. Now I feel cornered and it puts me on the defense.

“Yes, you mentioned that on the phone. I really wish you’d give Rhodes a chance. You said yourself that you love him…I know you do. So I don’t understand why this news isn’t being better received?”

“We love everybody. And I don’t judge Rhodes for the lifestyle he leads, that’s between him and God. But that doesn’t mean he’s the right man for you!” My mom’s voice raises and I glance at Bernard, who is sitting smugly in his seat.

I expect him to toss popcorn in his mouth at any moment.

I shake my head. “You may think you’re not judging him, but you are. You always have. I can’t believe you’re doing this right now. But since you are, I’m just going to say it so you all hear me…I’m with Rhodes. He is the best man I know. He always has been, and I wish you’d be happy that we have…what we have.”

Okay, that wasn’t the best declaration I could make, but I’m flailing here.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Bernard says.

“And you do?” It’s out of my mouth before I can stop it.

He flinches and looks afraid, like he’s just waiting for me to drop the secrets he’d never want my parents to know, but I don’t.

“ No one deserves you,” he hurries to add.

“Sweetheart, we just don’t want to see you get hurt,” my dad says. “Rhodes’ track record isn’t a good one. And the choices you’ve made lately…” He lifts his hand up in what I’m assuming is to call attention to my clothing choice this evening on top of all the other revelry I’m partaking in. “Well…it’s just not you. And I know the pull of the world is strong, but you’ve gotta resist…”

I pull the napkin off my lap and set it on the table. “I have an early morning tomorrow. I love you. Thank you for dinner tonight. It clarified some things for me,” I say, including Bernard, as I look around the room. “I’m not coming back to you, Bernard. I’m happy and I wish all of you could be happy for me.”

I stand up and walk out of the room. My mom follows me out .

“Are you really leaving?” she asks.

“Yes.” I turn and hug her.

Her face is getting blotchy, and I want to leave before she gets more upset.

“What if you and Bernard went to couples counseling?” she asks.

“If I go to couples counseling, it will be with Rhodes,” I tell her.

Her face looks stricken. “Are you moving in with him?”

Where did that come from?

“No, Mom. I just?—”

Her shoulders relax. “Then there’s still hope. Please keep an open mind, Elle. Remember that preacher that came through and predicted you’d be with Bernard…”

I remember it well because it messed with me so much to be told by a visiting preacher in front of our whole church congregation that it was God’s will for me to marry Bernard.

“I remember,” I say softly. “Do you remember that it’s recently come out that that man has had affairs with women all over this country? You think his wife thinks it’s God’s will that they’re still together?”

“We can’t judge them for trying to make their marriage work,” she says, folding her arms.

I swallow and nod, knowing that this conversation is going nowhere.

“I love you,” I say softly. “I’m gonna head out.”

I turn and leave before she can stop me. Once I’m in the car, I select Rhodes’ number and his voice fills the car when he answers.

“There you are. I thought I’d scared you off for good with all my sexy man jokes.”

“No, sorry, I?— ”

“What’s wrong?”

He’s always known with one word, one look, if I’m upset.

“I went to my parents’ tonight for dinner and Bernard was there.”

“Fuck. They’re not letting up on that, huh?”

“No. And I messed up, Rhodes. I was going to let them know we aren’t really dating and it just…I got us in a way deeper mess.”

He’s quiet for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Well, one of the last questions my mom asked is if we’re moving in together. I told her no,” I hurry to add. “But the point is, I let her think we’re serious.”

“Why don’t we just go with it? Let ‘em think we’re dating, so they stop pushing Bernard on you. No one else has to know.”

“It’s a disaster waiting to happen. We can’t.”

I pull into my driveway and groan when I see Brock outside.

“What is it?”

“Brock is just always outside lately. It’s freaking winter. Why is he always around? Oh, and Tuesday night, he left a mug by my door that says My Favorite Mustang with a very voluptuous caricature of me on the front. How do I respond to that?”

“Fucking creeper,” Rhodes says. “I’m coming over.”

“What? No. Don’t?—”

“I dropped Levi at Carrie’s and I’m not even two minutes from your house right now. I can stop by and make my presence known so he backs the fuck off.”

“Okay, alpha.”

“Is that what your favorite book guys would do?” His voice is low and gravelly, mimicking the narrator he heard the other night. “I’m coming, deeper…harder. ”

I snort and as I pull into the garage, I see Rhodes’ headlights behind me. Instead of closing the garage, I walk out to meet him, ignoring Brock next door.

He surprises me when he puts his hands on my waist and leans in, whispering in my ear, “Should we let Brock think we’re dating too?”

I stand on my tiptoes and put my hands on his neck, leaning up to his ear. My breasts brush against his chest and he grips my hip tighter.

“If you think it’ll make him stop leaving weird things by my door,” I whisper.

The next thing I know, he picks me up and buries his face in my hair as he stalks into the garage. I peek through his arm to see Brock staring at us from his driveway.