Page 18 of The Lonely Hearts Guide (Bountiful Beaus #2)

Elliot was unwell. His hands twitched and nervous yellow light flickered in his eyes. Alexander’s hand was tight around his waist, holding them together as Elliot broke to pieces in his arms.

The memory had been so vivid. All of the scattered mental images were finally stitched together to display the most disastrous of tapestries. It was as if Elliot had been an solid, secure dam before, but the sight of Alexander’s blood mingling with blue water caused the dam to break.

The fight he had with Jared Price.

The blows that felt like earthquakes each time Jared’s fist connected.

The vicious shade of crimson Elliot saw when Jared balled his hand into a fist and reared back his hand, preparing an uppercut Elliot could only assume was meant for his tummy. The next thing Elliot knew, he was rushing forward with a framed photograph in his hand. It was an old picture Jared forced him to take. In it, they pretended to be a happy couple. In it, Elliot hid away his secret hurt. And, in it, Jared Price’s hand wasn’t visible, but Elliot could see the waves of black lights in his own eyes, indicating pain. Elliot didn’t need to see his hand to know what Jared was doing. It was the same thing he always did when he wanted to harm Elliot without causing a scene. He was pinching Elliot’s back as hard as he could. Fitting, really, that an image depicting his abuse would also be the method of Jared’s demise.

Elliot hadn’t cried at the sound of Jared’s pained screams. He hadn’t batted an eye as broken glass sliced through skin. Elliot didn’t even blink when Jared lifted his hand in a final plea for mercy. Elliot simply sat there, taking Jared’s hand and holding it kindly, allowing him to slowly slip away. He could have contacted emergency services, but Elliot had no mercy left to give. He knew for a fact if he were to render aid, Jared would unleash his rage once he healed. Elliot also knew Jared wouldn’t contain his rage to Elliot after their child was born. Elliot had been holding out hope Jared’s temper would even out, if not for Elliot’s sake, at least for their child’s.

But then Jared tried to hurt their unborn baby.

Elliot waited with him until Jared Price took his final breath. He placed his hand over the man’s heart and made a vow to himself. Elliot would not let this break him. He would not let them win. If Elliot were to contact the authorities, it would be a media firestorm. There was another of Mother’s bountiful beaus who had killed his owner once. Elliot overheard whispers during his time in New Orleans. The bountiful beau was subjected to months of unspeakable terror at the hands of his husband, and once he finally defended himself, his husband was dead. The automaton was collected by Mother, powered down, and burned to ash in the Creationist’s incinerator.

Elliot would not end up like his fallen brother. He was determined to do whatever he could do to avoid such a fate. So, with nothing more than a broken heart and a handful of shattered dreams, Elliot had packed the only belongings that meant anything to him, placed them in a pink suitcase, and added the contents of Jared’s wall safe to the liner of his luggage.

Though Elliot knew how to drive, he also knew the police would more than likely be looking for Jared’s vehicle, so he took a bus to Genevieve, Georgia, with the memory of Jared’s lifeless face tucked away in the back of his mind.

“What do you mean, you think you killed him?”

Alexander looked so terribly worried, and the sight of him in a panic made Elliot feel lower than low. Elliot stared at the water, sniffling. “He tried to hurt me. He tried to hurt the baby.” Elliot wrapped his arms around his tummy like he was giving the little life inside a warm, comforting hug. “I didn’t mean to do it. At least, I don’t think I did.” He shut his eyes tightly, afraid to see Alexander’s reaction. Alexander knew about Elliot’s history with Master Price, but this was an extreme situation, and Elliot knew he ran the risk of losing him. “I understand if you want nothing more to do with me.” Alexander’s arms wrapped around Elliot before pulling him in for a hug. “Do you wish to send me away?”

“Sweet boy,” he murmured sweetly into Elliot’s ear. “Never. We need to talk about it, but I’m not sending you away, so if you’re worried about that, get it out of your head.” When Alexander pulled away, it felt like he was taking everything they’d shared with him. Luckily, he wasn’t gone long, and he didn’t go very far, just a few steps back until he could cup Elliot’s cheek. “I love you, Elliot. I love you, and I’m never letting you go.”

That was all it took to soothe his fear and break down the last barrier holding Elliot back. As the fear fell, so too did his sense of shame, and Elliot lunged forward, clinging to Alexander with every ounce of strength he had. They were in motion, but Elliot’s face was buried in Alexander’s neck, and he couldn’t tell where he was being led.

They took a seat, Elliot still tangled around Alexander’s waist and shoulders like a clingy capuchin monkey. When Elliot finally gathered the strength to back away, he realized they were back in their cabin, resting on the bed.

“We need to pack.”

Elliot cocked his head to the side, confused. “Pack for where?”

“That’s what I was going to tell you at the pool. I called my mom and had her charter a helicopter to pick us up.” Alexander moved Elliot off his lap and onto the mattress. “The helicopter will be here tonight. Can you tell me more about what happened with Jared? Did they collect his body?”

Elliot shook his head. “Probably not, since I didn’t contact anyone. I was scared, so I grabbed my things and ran. I-I’m sorry, Alexander.”

Alexander shook his head. “Please don’t apologize to me. Not for this. From what you’ve told me it sounds like he got what was coming to him. I’m just worried about where this leads us now. Did it happen at home?”

“Yes. In the foyer.” Elliot wrapped his arms around his tummy. “He was trying to hurt her.” His jaw trembled, and when he looked up, he was relieved to find no anger on Alexander’s face. “He tried to hit my stomach. He was aiming right at her.” The second he sniffled, the rest of the walls crumbled, and so did Elliot, falling against Alexander’s chest and weeping. “I never wanted any of this. I didn’t want to be his partner, and I didn’t want to carry his child. Mother makes decisions on our behalf and doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process. It isn’t fair.”

“I know,” Alexander soothed, stroking his back. “I think our best bet is lying low and seeing what happens with Jared.”

“They’ll incinerate me,” Elliot said, his voice shaking. “They’ll power me off and burn my body.”

Alexander growled out, “I’d like to see them try.” Pulling away, Alexander cupped Elliot’s cheek. “No one is ever going to hurt you again. Not as long as I’m around.” He looked down at his wristwatch. “We’ve got half a day left until the helicopter arrives. We just need to steer clear of Ms. Broussard until then. God knows what that woman has up her sleeve.”

“Eczema,” Elliot responded matter-of-factly. “That’s why she wears long gloves most of the time. She says it’s because a woman must always look her best if she hopes to find a suitor.”

Alexander cocked an eyebrow. “Internalized sexism aside, the more I learn of Ms. Broussard, the less I care for her.”

Elliot looked around the room, half-expecting Mother to hop out of the closet and eviscerate them for gossiping. “I agree,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do.” He sniffled, dabbing his wet eyes with his palms. “I know I have to love her, but I don’t like her very much at the moment.”

“You don’t have to love anyone you don’t want to love. It’s okay to hate her a little.”

Elliot nodded. “Is it okay to hate her a lot?”

“All your feelings are valid. You don’t need my permission to hate someone.”

“Thank you, Alexander.”

Alexander squeezed Elliot’s arm. “Of course.” He lowered his hand until it was resting on Elliot’s bump. “I don’t know how this is going to work. We’ll need to hide you for the time being.”

Elliot hung his head. “If you need me to power myself off until the dust settles, I’ll understand.”

“Absolutely not. You’re not an appliance, Elliot. You’re a man. We’re not powering you off. After the way you described it as feeling like you were dying, I don’t think I want you powering down ever again.”

Elliot’s jaw quivered. “You mean that?”

“More than I’ve ever meant anything.”

“Then what are we going to do? They’ll look for me. They’ll try to take me from you.”

“And they’ll fail spectacularly. I think we should stay with my mom for a few weeks, just to see how everything unfolds. They won’t think to look for you there, and if it looks like things aren’t going to die down, we can go somewhere that won’t extradite you.”

“It’s just so much fuss. I’m not worth any of this.” Elliot stared down at the blanket, feeling guilty for putting all this on Alexander’s plate. He’d asked for none of it. Alexander simply wanted to go on a relaxing cruise, and here was Elliot, barging in unannounced and making Alexander’s life more complicated. He hated himself for it, but what he hated worse was the fact he was making no effort to relieve Alexander of his new burden.

“Everything,” Alexander whispered, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re everything and more.” Elliot’s hands were folded in his lap, and he watched as Alexander’s engulfed them, squeezing gently. “Would you like to come back to the island with me?”

Elliot nodded, sniffling. “I want it more than anything.”

“Good. That’s settled then. Should we call Mom and tell her the good news? She’s been begging and pleading for me to come home for years.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

Alexander shook his head. “My father bought it when I was thirteen.”

“The island? You can buy an island?”

“With enough money.”

Elliot arched an eyebrow. “How much money does an island even cost?”

“Trust me”—Alexander chuckled—”you don’t want to know. After he bought the land, development took another two years, so I didn’t get to visit until I was fifteen. Dad was going to call it Davenport Island, but when we visited, the whole place looked like something out of a Hallmark movie—”

“That’s what I said!” Elliot practically shrieked. “I mentioned to Mrs. Peppercorn that it looked like a Christmas film come to life.”

“That was by my father’s design. He wanted somewhere cozy to spend the winters. I was the one who suggested the island’s name. Dad used to read ‘‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’ to me each year, and the line about sugarplums dancing in children’s heads always resonated with me for some reason. It just felt right.”

“I think that might be my new favorite story,” Elliot said, nuzzling in closer. He was knee to knee, forehead to forehead with Alexander, and it still wasn’t close enough. He shifted himself, rising onto Alexander’s lap and wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in Alexander’s neck. “You’ll have to tell it to me again sometime. Maybe as a bedtime story with silly voices and funny faces.”

Alexander kissed Elliot’s head. “I’ll tell you all the ridiculous bedtime stories you want.” He rocked them back and forth, his hand softly stroking Elliot’s back. “We’ll have to come up with a few traditions of our own when the baby comes.”

“I never had any traditions, so I’m afraid I may not be of much use.” Elliot chewed his cheek. That wasn’t entirely true. He had many traditions thrust upon him by Jared. Their nightly rounds of rumpy-pumpy where Elliot usually left the situation aching and sore. Their bi-yearly visits with Mother where, Elliot assumed, he was reprogrammed against his will. Granted, Elliot stayed powered down for most of their “holiday” traditions, but Jared still brought him along for the journey, so that had to count for something.

Elliot hated himself for all the things he’d never been. His heart hurt for the endless variations of himself he might have become, if he had been sold to a kinder man. A man like Alexander Davenport. Now, that man was offering him a world he’d only ever dreamt about. Even better, Alexander’s smile told Elliot he wanted it just as much as him.

“Do you have a home on Sugarplum Island, or will we be staying with your mother? I believe I liked her. I believe I liked her a lot.” Elliot wished he could remember, but the frosting-filled holes in his mind made it difficult.

“She liked you a lot, too. Probably just as much as I do.” Alexander combed his finger through Elliot’s hair. “I own the house next door to hers, so we’ll be seeing a lot of her.”

Elliot glanced down at Professor Plum, who was napping beside his knee. Reaching down, he softly stroked the fieldmouse’s head. “Does she get along with Professor Plum?”

Alexander chuckled loud enough to startle Professor Plum, who looked up at the man with narrowed eyes, silently judging him for waking him from his slumber.

“She treats him like a second son. He gets a Christmas stocking every year and everything.” Alexander rubbed Professor Plum’s pink sweater, his fingertip purposefully bumping against Elliot’s. “She’s going to lose her mind when she realizes we’re having . . .” Alexander tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed. Elliot wasn’t sure why Alexander stopped mid-sentence, but he waited the man out, allowing him time to process whatever he was struggling with. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s just . . . it feels strange referring to the baby as mine. It feels like I’m laying claim to something I have no right claiming.”

“I want her to be yours, though. Mine and yours. Our little family. Are you changing your mind?”

Alexander shook his head. “I just don’t want to overstep and risk you resenting me.”

Elliot shook his head. “Never. Maybe it would help if we selected her name together.” He reached down and rubbed his tummy.

Alexander nodded. “We’ll think of something when we get to the island. I promise.” Alexander grabbed his phone and brought up his mother’s contact information. “So, when we call her, do we mention the—” Alexander shook his head, looking as if he was scolding himself internally. “ Our baby. Do we mention our baby?”

Elliot smiled wider than ever before. His heart fluttered, and he lifted his hand to Alexander’s cheek. “Our baby,” he agreed. “Yes. I would like that. I want your mother to know.”

Alexander grunted an approval before clicking the little green button on his screen, initiating a video call. It only took her two rings to answer, and when she did, she looked just as Elliot remembered her. The same blonde hair, tied back with an oversized scrunchie, and ruby red lipstick that made her look a bit like Marilyn Monroe. Even her outfit was the same; a pink blouse and a blue poodle skirt, making her look like something out of a nineteen-fifties film. Did her hairstyle and ensemble seem to come from different eras? Yes, but who cared? She looked fabulous. A combination of vintage now he had an ever-expanding family. He had Periwinkle and Arthur Price, Mrs. Peppercorn and Mayor Rivera, and even had Professor Plum again. Now, he was being given a chance at finding a real mother. One who might actually care for him the way he always wanted Mother to care for him. Most of all, he had Alexander Davenport.

“No ma’am, I haven’t.”

She nodded. “That ends tomorrow. When you get here, I’m coming over, and I’m going to give you a proper welcome.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. “You don’t know how much it means.”

“I think I do,” she argued. “And I think you deserve every bit of the love I plan to send your way. Go on, now. You boys get ready. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

As Alexander and Ms. Twylah said goodbye, Elliot rubbed his tummy, trying to picture a future with Alexander Davenport. He could see their family so clearly. Walking her to the small schoolhouse Elliot spotted on his island trek last time he visited. Taking her to Twylah’s Sugarplum Treats for a post-school snack. Maybe they could even take her to the beach on the west side of the island. Elliot was rather fond of swimming despite the cannonball fiasco, and he couldn’t wait to give it another go.

Once the call ended, Elliot and Alexander packed their things and rested together on the bed until it was time for dinner. Alexander received a text message alerting him the helicopter would arrive in an hour. As Alexander gave the room a final once-over to ensure nothing was left behind, Elliot headed to the dining hall, hoping to find Mrs. Peppercorn and avoid Mother.

The dining area practically screamed, “Classy!” As Elliot wandered around, searching for his friend, tables were piled high with seafood towers and endless glasses of wine. He’d never partaken in spirits before, and he thought he might like to indulge one day. Maybe once they reached the island.

Mother was nowhere to be found, but Mrs. Peppercorn was unmissable. She was sitting in Mother’s designated seat, and Elliot wondered if Mrs. Peppercorn may have shoved Mother overboard again, just to assume her identity. She was taking to the role quite well; maybe too well.

“The man of the hour,” Mrs. Peppercorn announced, standing and holding her arms out wide like Jesus on the cross.

“Hello, Mother,” Elliot greeted. It still felt silly for him to refer to her as Mother, and in all honesty, he couldn’t believe the other passengers were buying her lies so easily. Then again, with the constant look of lust clouding their vision, maybe they were simply overlooking the absurdity and focusing on their new bountiful beaus.

Once Alexander finally caught up with Elliot, they took a seat with Alexander next to Elliot, who sat next to Mrs. Peppercorn. As he unfolded his napkin and placed it on his lap, Mrs. Peppercorn grabbed his hand and softly brushed her thumb back and forth against his skin.

“I handled it,” she whispered.

“Handled what?”

“The Mother situation. I’ve got it handled. You boys can relax for the rest of the trip.”

“Mrs. Peppercorn, I’m not sure what you’re saying. What do you mean, you’ve handled it?”

Mrs. Peppercorn looked around the room; her eyes narrowed as if she was attempting to search out potential eavesdroppers. “She sleeps with fish.”

“Come again?”

She darted her eyes to Beau’s glass of rosewater. Mrs. Peppercorn grabbed a lemon wedge, held it over the glass, and made eye contact with Elliot. “Ms. Broussard”—she released the hold she had on the lemon wedge and let it fall into the rosewater, her gaze dropping slowly with the lemon for emphasis—”sleeps with fish.”

Elliot’s jaw dropped. “Dear God. You’ve killed her?”