Page 7 of The Lonely Hearts Guide (Bountiful Beaus #2)

Elliot sat at a table with mismatched chairs, in a room with bookshelves for walls. Arthur and Periwinkle’s quiet library loft was certainly charming, but it was an open room with no privacy. The moment he entered the room, he knew his dream was over. There was simply no room for Elliot in their living quarters. He didn’t bother asking if they could make space for him, because he knew the answer would be no. The answers to his questions usually were.

Arthur and Periwinkle Price fussed over Elliot, serving him herbal tea and placing plump cookies on a plate in front of him, but Elliot didn’t need their cookies. He still had the one he’d been saving since his visit to Sugarplum Island three days or weeks or months ago. It must have been weeks, because Jared sent him weekly, but it didn’t feel like a week. A week since he collected them, perhaps, but much longer than a week since he’d stepped foot on Sugarplum Island, though he wasn’t sure how he knew that.

When had he last visited? Tuesday? Or was it on a Sunday? It certainly couldn’t have been on a Monday, as that was when Elliot did his gardening. It was his favorite day of the week, because Jared allowed him to remain powered on through the day. The whole day!

There were also two women Elliot had never met at Arthur and Peri’s, and the longer they conversed with each other, the more enthralled Elliot became. The first woman, introduced as Mrs. Honey Peppercorn—a ridiculous name, Elliot thought—was in her eighties, and she was wearing a ginger wig. Her eyelids were slathered with blue eyeshadow and ruby red lipstick meticulously coated her lips, not a single smudge, all the way around. The dress she wore was peppered with gardenias. It was Elliot’s all-time-favorite flower, and when she pulled out a small bottle of perfume with a glass gardenia-shaped cap, his heart swelled in his chest. She pumped three hefty spritzes onto her neck, and two on each wrist, much to the rest of the table’s displeasure. Not to Elliot’s, though. He thought it smelled lovely, and he wanted to know more about Mrs. Honey Peppercorn.

The other woman had golden skin and called herself Princess Rivera. He wondered if, by chance, she held any relation to Mayor Beau Rivera, but the woman was busy chatting with Mrs. Peppercorn, and Elliot didn’t want to interrupt.

Luckily enough, fate was on Elliot’s side. Her phone chimed, and when she looked down, Princess Rivera smiled, turning to Elliot, drawing him into the conversation by holding up her phone. “It seems my nephew was quite smitten with you,” she said, answering his unasked question. “He just sent me a text saying he hopes you can become ‘biffles.’ Whatever the heck that means.” Elliot wasn’t sure what it meant either, but he went along with it, politely nodding his head.

The cup of tea was calling his name, but he resisted its siren song, trying to pay attention to the women in front of him. “He was a very kind man. I hope I have the chance to see more of him.” He eyed Princess up and down like she was God coming down from on high. “Your skin is very pretty.”

Princess looked into the mirror by Arthur and Periwinkle’s bed, just behind the table. “Normally I’d agree, but I’ve had a zit the size of Dallas on the tip of my nose for two days. It’ll be back to flawless soon, but it’s irritating as hell at the moment.”

Dallas.

Jared lived in Dallas. So did someone else, Elliot thought, though he couldn’t remember who. Why was he having so much trouble remembering the shadow character in his head? First the plum jam cookies, then Dallas. It’s like some cut out bits of his brain containing terribly important memories and replaced it with cake frosting, leaving only the sugary remnants of what might have been. If only Elliot could remember what it was that might have been.

The cookie! Elliot had been holding onto it for dear life, waiting for the perfect moment to indulge. He’d never eaten solid foods—that’s what his internal processor was telling him, at least. Though Elliot couldn’t pinpoint the memory, something deep inside of him was screaming out that he ate one before, and it was the greatest moment of his short life.

Elliot carefully removed the cookie’s cellophane wrapper and smiled down at it. He waited so long to taste it. The jam dollop in the center was calling out to him, begging Elliot to taste.

He brought the cookie closer to his face and sniffed softly, so as not to inhale a cookie crumb. The scent was almost gone, but there were still traces of sugary sweetness left behind. He’d been waiting so long to try it, but Elliot still couldn’t bring himself to indulge. Eating the cookie would mean he had nothing left to hold on to. No tether to those foggy memories he couldn’t seem to jog. He wanted to eat the cookie, but he didn’t want to forget that there was something he needed to remember. So, with a heavy heart and shaking hands, Elliot wrapped the cookie once more and slid it into his pocket, packing it away for a rainy day.

“So,” Arthur finally said, his voice calm as he turned to face Elliot. He looked down at Elliot’s baby bump. “When did this happen?”

Elliot forced a smile. “Three months.” That’s what Jared told him just days before his grand escape, when Elliot’s memory hit a blip. The math didn’t make much sense to him, though, because when he’d gone to Sugarplum Island for plum jam cookies, he’d been thin as a rake, and that was only earlier in the week. But then, there were other flashes from a timeline that made little sense to Elliot. Weeks and weeks of invasive tests at Jared’s expense, performed by Mother. When did those tests happen? He had no fixed point in his memory, simply a vague recollection. With shame and a sense of failure fresh in his heart, Elliot quietly added, “I cannot have this child. Master Price, he . . . he is not a kind man.”

“Oh, Elliot,” Periwinkle whispered, taking his hand.

“I’ve run away from home,” Elliot said with a sniffle. “Please do not tell Master Price where I am. He’ll be very cross with me.”

Periwinkle squeezed his hand. “Jared Price can go straight to Hell.”

“You know how I feel about swearing,” Mrs. Peppercorn scolded.

Periwinkle blushed. “Sorry, Mum.”

“I can’t go back. Not me. Not my . . . my baby,” Elliot whispered. His mind went to places he knew it shouldn’t. Visions of the pain Jared inflicted upon him. Pain he would more than likely deliver to their child. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t. When Elliot opened his eyes, there were tears welled in the corners, ready to spill. “Please? Please, you must help me.” Elliot was frantic. Desperate to escape the situation he was forced into. He didn’t want Jared’s child. He didn’t want Jared’s anything. All Elliot had ever wanted was to love and be loved in return. Why did Jared make that impossible? Would it have killed Jared to show kindness? Would it have put a damper on his day? He grabbed Periwinkle’s wrist. “I can’t go back. May I please stay with you?”

Periwinkle and Arthur shared a look, then looked around their small library annex.

Elliot felt like a fool. Of course, they didn’t have room for him. Who did? Who would even want to make room for him? Elliot forced a smile to keep himself from crying, because he was closer than he’d ever been to breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably. He couldn’t rely on Periwinkle for protection. Elliot knew it was a long shot when he boarded the bus, but seeing the men silently contemplating how to tell him “no” felt like a punch to the gut, and Elliot knew all about gut punches. He’d received enough of them to last him a lifetime.

Elliot closed his eyes and took a breath, steadying his emotions. As mother once told him, no one would ever want to associate with a househusband prone to hysteria, and he was having such a lovely time with these fascinating new women in his life.

“Please, forget I said anything. I was only joking. I’m just here for a friendly visit,” Elliot attempted, but he was fairly confident everyone at the table saw past the lie. He stood from his chair, wanting to bow out gracefully before his new friends saw him for the failure he truly was. Maybe Jared was right. Perhaps it was all Elliot’s fault no one stuck around, and he truly was the most common denominator. It’s possible the last three cooks truly quit because of Elliot’s incessant chatter during the day. And maybe the housekeepers truly resigned because Elliot would follow them around, desperate for company.

Everyone left.

Why did everyone always have to leave?

“Elliot,” Periwinkle whispered, squeezing his shoulder.

“I’ve had such a lovely chat,” Elliot said, his voice breaking. “I hope we can do it again sometime.” He wanted that. He wanted it so much. “I truly hope so. But I’ll be off; Jared will be expecting me.”

Someone’s palm slammed against the small table they’d been sitting at, and when he looked down, Mrs. Peppercorn’s hand was flat on the surface, and she had a commanding presence about her. “Sit down, young man.”

Elliot’s jaw trembled. He needed to get out of there, because if he didn’t, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. “I really must be going.”

Mrs. Peppercorn shook her head. Looking over at Princess, Mrs. Peppercorn barked, “Shove over.” Princess smiled and nodded, standing and offering Elliot her chair. Though he was frightened, Elliot pushed past that fear, and took the seat he was offered. “Elliot, sweetheart, do you really want to go home?” Elliot opened his mouth to assure her he was fine, but she shook her head. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.”

Periwinkle nodded. “It’s true. She’s an intuitive empath, whatever that means. I think it might be witchcraft, but I’ve been too frightened she’ll turn me into a toad to ask.”

Mrs. Peppercorn rolled her eyes. “Double double, the tramp’s about to be in trouble if he doesn’t watch that tone.” She turned and smiled at Elliot. “The point is, I know you don’t want to go home, baby. It’s written all over your face, clear as day.” Mrs. Peppercorn took Elliot’s hand and, oh, the way his heart ached for more. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him without inflicting pain, and Elliot wanted to hold on tight and refuse to let go. “Has he hurt you, baby?”

Elliot’s jaw wobbled, and he couldn’t get any words out, but he managed to nod.

“Oh, sugar,” she softly cooed. “And you’re worried he’ll do the same to your baby?” Elliot nodded again. Mrs. Peppercorn looked around the table, speaking to Arthur, Periwinkle, and Princess. “We’re Auxiliary. Auxiliary sticks together.” It felt as if she was reminding them of some near-forgotten law. “So we’ll do the same thing we did when Ms. Broussard tried to confiscate Periwinkle. We’ll figure it out. We’ll find a way.”

“We’ll take care of you,” Periwinkle added, placing his hand on top of Elliot’s and looking into his eyes. “We won’t say a word if Jared comes looking for you.”

Arthur nodded. “Peri’s right. You’re safe now, Elliot. I’m sorry I never stood up for you before.” He placed his hand on top of Periwinkle’s. “I’ll stand up for you now. We’ll do whatever it takes to get you through this.”

“Because you’re family now,” Mrs. Peppercorn declared, placing her hand on top of Arthur’s. “And family helps.”

“If you want a boyfriend, my nephew is single,” Princess added, placing her hand on top of Mrs. Peppercorn’s. “And my, oh my, he’s ready to mingle.”

Mrs. Peppercorn groaned, removing her hand from the pile. “Like your sweet potato pie, your ability to read a room leaves much to be desired.”

“And much like your wig . . . Actually, no. I don’t have a comeback. I thought I did. Silly me figuring it would come to me as I was talking, but that didn’t happen.” With a huff, Princess folded her arms across her chest and pouted.

“You can stay with me, dear,” Mrs. Peppercorn said. “I’d love to have you.” Elliot looked at Periwinkle who was practically hopping in his seat.

“Yes!” Periwinkle exclaimed. “Yes, to that idea. Oh, Elliot, you’ll love it. She makes the best milky tea in Genevieve—”

“She what?” Arthur interrupted, arching an accusatory eyebrow, which in turn caused the color to drain from Periwinkle’s face.

“Aside from you!” Periwinkle shouted, bolting up from his chair and sitting on his husband’s lap. “Oh, Arthur. Your milky tea is the best milky tea in the world. I wasn’t thinking.” Periwinkle’s apologetic expression faded, making room for a look Elliot had only seen a handful of times. Elliot braced for impact. “I am only human, Arthur. I mean, not an actual human, but I’m made in their likeness. We both know I’m bound to fumble along the way, and how dare you scold me for it?”

“I wasn’t scolding anything,” Arthur insisted with a smile. “I was just saying my tea is the best tea.” Arthur traced Periwinkle’s jaw. “I promise, baby, I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

“Arthur,” Periwinkle whined, burying his face in Arthur’s neck.

Elliot looked at Mrs. Peppercorn. “Are they like this very often?”

Mrs. Peppercorn sighed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. “Endlessly. It’s cute, but it can be a bit much at times.” She reached over and squeezed Elliot’s hand. “I mean it, sugar. I would be so happy to have you stay with me. It gets lonely around the house, and I’d love the company.”

Elliot’s jaw trembled. “You’re sure?”

“Surer than sunrise, baby.”

Half an hour later—once the tea was drunk and all the cookies devoured, Mrs. Peppercorn announced she wanted to take Elliot to see his new dwelling. Elliot wasn’t aware it would take Mrs. Peppercorn an additional five minutes to say her goodbyes, so he walked toward the narrow staircase leading down to the library, pausing when something caught his eye. There was a brochure on the small table where Periwinkle and Arthur kept their mail keys. When he picked up the brochure, his heart skipped a beat. It was an invitation from Mother. An all-expenses paid bountiful beaus booze cruise, whatever that meant. Next to the brochure was a handwritten card inviting Arthur and Periwinkle. An olive branch, perhaps. Elliot had heard from Jared that when Periwinkle and Arthur were separated and Periwinkle needed to move home with Mother, Periwinkle gave Mother a dressing down in front of God and everyone.

Periwinkle squeezed Elliot’s shoulder, then traced his finger against the card. “A peace offering, I think.” Periwinkle huffed out a sharp breath. “She can save it for someone who wishes for peace.” He grabbed the card and quickly ripped it in half. “I want nothing but time and distance from her.”

Elliot wasn’t sure if Periwinkle said anything after that, as his focus was elsewhere, his attention undivided from the brochure. On the cover, there was an old photograph from the first wave of i-Series beaus, with Elliot at Mother’s side. He flipped through the brochure, studying image after image of other beaus and their suitors. In one photograph, Arthur stood next to Periwinkle, while Elliot and Jared were on the right. The sight of the man who was his tormentor for so very long sent a wave of dread crashing inside him.

But then Elliot saw him.

He knew that face.

Elliot knew he knew the man, but he didn’t know how. He smiled at the picture, though. He smiled bigger and brighter than he ever had, and a chorus of home-home-home played out in his mind. His eyes were misty, but Elliot didn’t think the tears forming were sad ones. Considering the lights flickering in his eyes were pink, they must have been happy tears. The man—whoever he was—had been a shadow character in Elliot’s mind for so long. He was the missing puzzle piece that got removed and was patched over with cake frosting, but it was still there, deep, deep down.

“Mr. Alexander Davenport of Dallas, Texas,” Periwinkle said at his side, and that was all it took. Elliot shattered, and all the hurt and hope crashed together, pouring out, down his cheeks and onto the floor. As Periwinkle tried to console him, Elliot slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out his cookie. It felt like the right time.

“Alexander,” Elliot whispered, trying the name on for size. God, it felt so right. Like it fit Elliot perfectly. As if Alexander was made just for him. He unwrapped the cellophane from the cookie and smiled at the picture, taking the first bite of food he could ever remember taking. The taste was familiar, which was strange, because Elliot couldn’t remember a time when he tasted it before. Aside from drinks, he never tasted anything at all. However it happened, Elliot knew the flavor by heart. A warm and cozy ocean view on a dark and foggy night. That’s what it tasted like. Like home.

“He’s such a sweetheart,” Periwinkle said. “I stumbled and fell at my cotillion, and he scooped me up and eased my nerves. After Jared ordered Mother to confiscate me from Arthur and take me back to New Orleans, Alexander offered to purchase me and give me a happy life.” Elliot tore his eyes away from the picture of Alexander in time to see Periwinkle gaze contentedly at his husband. “My heart’s only ever beat for Arthur, though.”

“Will he be attending this cruise?” Elliot lifted the brochure, wanting to see Alexander even closer. His dark brown hair was parted to the side. Freckles peppered his cheeks, some big, some small. And that smile. That smile would be the death of Elliot, he just knew it.

Periwinkle shrugged. “I’m not sure. I can call and ask.”

Elliot’s eyes bulged and it felt as if ants were tiptoeing through inside his stomach, making him twitch and giggle like a lovesick teenager in some movies he’d seen. “You have his number? You know how to contact him?”

“Indeed, I do. Oh, Elliot, he’s such a sweetheart. You’d love him. His first bountiful beau ran away with one of our brothers. Apparently, they inadvertently bonded when they were still living with Mother. Doug and—”

“Gus!” Elliot exclaimed, nodding his head at a rapid pace. He remembered. He didn’t remember everything, but he remembered some. Alexander. Plum jam cookies. A little fieldmouse. And Gus, apparently. Gus who cut his own arm open to remove his tracking chip. Gus who had inadvertently inspired Elliot’s escape because his was the story Elliot remembered. His was the life Elliot never would have thrown away. Elliot lifted his arm for Periwinkle to see. “He cut out his tracking chip just to find true love.” His jaw trembled.

“Is that what the bandage is for?” Periwinkle’s eyes widened. “You cut out your chip?”

“Yes. I didn’t know why at the time, but somewhere inside me I remembered that story. It’s . . . Periwinkle, it’s like there are bits of my memory I can’t get back. Like they were cut out and someone’s put cake frosting in their place.”

Periwinkle’s face dropped. “Oh, Elliot.” He squeezed Elliot’s shoulder and leaned closer, eyes narrowed as he studied Elliot’s face.

“I’m not sure what’s happening right now,” Elliot whispered, because Periwinkle was so close it felt silly to speak much louder. “You’re very close to my face. If you’re attempting to kiss me, I would like to remind you that you’re a married man, and I am neither snake nor philanderer.”

Periwinkle rolled his eyes. “Obviously, I’m not attempting to kiss you. For God’s sake, Arthur is right behind me. I’m hardly going to shove my tongue down your throat.” He lifts his hand and pokes Elliot in the cheek. “Have you felt fuzzy headed? Do you have headaches when you think too hard about certain stuff?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Periwinkle shook his head, poking Elliot’s cheek again. “No.” Periwinkle gave Elliot a sad smile that radiated sympathy. He didn’t know what on Earth he might need Periwinkle’s sympathy for, aside from the abuse Elliot suffered at Jared’s hand.

Periwinkle opened his mouth to say more, only to close it when Mrs. Peppercorn finally approached, sliding her hand into Elliot’s and giving it a squeeze.

“Are you ready, sugar?” she asked Elliot.

No, Elliot wasn’t ready. He wanted to know more about Mr. Alexander Davenport, but he could hardly tell Mrs. Peppercorn no. She was opening her home to him, after all, so he simply gave her the warmest smile he could, and nodded.

He stared down at Alexander’s smiling face one final time, knowing he needed to meet the man. Knowing Alexander held answers about the missing seconds and minutes and hours of Elliot’s cake-frosting memories.

“May I keep this?” he asked Periwinkle. “Please?”

Periwinkle nodded. “I’ve already found my forever. I have no need for a dating cruise.”

The room Mrs. Peppercorn provided Elliot was a lovely little space. It was on the second floor, right next to hers, and she told Elliot it belonged to her no-good, low-down, dirty dog of a son. Apparently, the man hadn’t called his mother in close to two weeks. It made Elliot sad for Mrs. Peppercorn, because she seemed like such a lovely lady, and he couldn’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t want to call her for a quick chat every day.

That night, Elliot sat on his new bed, studying the photograph of Mr. Alexander Davenport. He still had half his cookie left, and he’d received permission from Mrs. Peppercorn to finish it in his room, provided he left no crumbs on the bedding. Elliot was the cleanest househusband he’d ever known, so he knew it wouldn’t be a problem.

Elliot sighed, because if Alexander lived in Dallas, he could have simply tracked the man down and avoided this entire trip to Georgia. While Elliot knew it was a long shot, something about Alexander screamed ‘caregiver,’ so he knew Alexander would have taken him in. He just knew it.

Elliot needed to receive clarification on whether Alexander would be aboard Mother’s second chance cruise for certain, because if he was, nothing would stop Elliot from finding him. Mother might spot him on the boat and ask what he was doing there without Jared, but that was another battle for another day.

So, two days later, when Periwinkle finally spoke with Alexander and confirmed he would be aboard the cruise, Elliot made his decision. He would sneak onto the boat, find Mr. Alexander Davenport, and ask about his missing memories. Elliot just hoped neither Periwinkle nor Mrs. Peppercorn were terribly cross with him after the voyage.