Page 33 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

I couldn't get enough of Barrett Henry. Every kiss, every hug, every text was a Cupid's arrow to my heart.

I fell harder for him every day, and when Emma casually mentioned his ex was Margaret from the office, I finally understood why he would avoid coming into the Boston Social office with me.

He didn't want to run into her. I thought I might be jealous of her, especially since they were an item for a few years, but she wasn't the one going to the Henry family Thanksgiving dinner. I was.

Barrett wasn't off work yet, and I was sitting on my balcony with my legs propped up on the railing and my computer on my lap.

He was staying over more often, and then occasionally I'd stay with him at his fancy Seaport condo.

Barrett wasn't oblivious, he knew how much I loved my condo, so he stayed with me more often than not and never asked for us to go to Seaport.

I had a feeling Seaport didn't feel like home to him.

He hadn't been there long before I moved to Boston, so when he was with me, he was home. I was his home.

First his toothbrush stayed behind, then a pair of shoes, then suddenly I was dog-sitting Louie and sharing my couch with him permanently.

Barrett told me he felt bad leaving Louie at home all the time, and since I was home regularly, we decided that Louie would stay with me and live at my house.

And not that I thought of this right away, but it also meant Barrett wouldn't have to go home to let him out or feed him.

He'd just come right to my condo, and the three of us would be together.

I gave a frustrated sigh and shut my computer. This wasn't working. I grabbed for my phone and opened my text messages.

Me: Sarah, it's time.

Sarah: OK, make your list of ideas and send them over. You've got this, Ellz. How many words do you have right now?

Me: Forty-five thousand.

Sarah: Shit, OK, that's going to hurt, but we can manage. Don't delete anything! You might use it one day for something else. Send me over your ideas, OK?

Me: OK, OK. Actually, I have an idea. It's crazy as hell. What if I wrote a rom-com loosely based on mine and Jude's story?

Sarah: Um, what?

Me: Not like "us" exactly, but girl meets boy one summer while interning, and then their paths cross again later on in life. I can get an outline together super fast; I mean, our story is straight out of a Christina Lauren book and could be really cute.

Sarah: Oooh, I love it. It's something you know, and you can play with plot and character development so easily since you are already familiar with your main characters and their story.

Me: Exactly.

Sarah: I'm not gonna say don't stress, because that'd be stupid, but I think your forty-five thousand words will come back way easier this time around.

Me: Me too. I know how it ended in real life, but per the rules of romance, I'm going to give my characters a happily ever after. It's something I can work with. I think I've got this. Check your email tonight.

Sarah: Ellz, wait. What about Barrett? How is he going to feel about you writing a story based on your relationship with Jude?

Me: I'm just going to say it's a rom-com idea based on my life before I met him.

I'm not sure why my grandparents' story hung me up so badly.

I really wanted to finish it, but I think I have some mental blocks to work through with how Grandma Di left it all for a life that I don't really understand.

I wish I did, but I just can't wrap my brain around such a talented woman leaving it all behind.

It felt like it was missing something, and I couldn't figure it out.

Sarah: Honestly, she sounds like you but reversed. You see it right?

Me: Eh.

Sarah: Oh, it's totally there in plain sight. She left something she loved and was talented at to become a housewife and caregiver for her husband. You, on the other hand, left a work situation for something that you love and are talented at. (Don't @ me, you're a talented writer!)

Me: I don't think what she did was wrong, it's just what she wanted (I think). I know she loved being a mother. It's hard for me to picture that for myself though, so it was tough to, I don't know, articulate in writing without sounding like a bitch. If anything, you're like Grandma Di.

Sarah: Such an honor! Love you, Ellz. To the moon and back.

I closed my first project for the last time. Ideas and words for my new manuscript were fighting to get onto the screen. When I finally looked up from typing three hours later, my outline was done. This worked. Everything worked. I shot off an email to Sarah and got a quick reply:

Oh my God. Keep writing.

So I did.

Barrett walked through my door that evening with Chinese takeout in one hand and flowers in the other.

He walked right over to me, placed everything on the coffee table, and took my face in his hands and kissed me, desperate, hard.

The subtle hint of crisp pine needles and cotton lingered in the air.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured.

I could still taste him on my lips. A delicate smile spread across my face. Our relationship was growing quickly and so was my word count.

"Elle, I have this idea, but I want to run it by you." Barrett turned onto his side and faced me. His hair was tousled, and his head was resting on his arm. The bed dipped slightly, and my body fell closer to his. I would never get over the warmth that emanated from him.

I was about to reply when a little cardinal landed on my windowsill and let out a chirp.

"Ellz, are you listening?"

I readjusted my eyes and turned my gaze back to him. "Yes, of course. What's your fabulous idea?" I said with my morning lisp. My mouthguard was still in, and Barrett's mouth pulled into a cheeky grin. He wrapped his other arm around my body and pulled me into his bare chest.

"What if"--he kissed the tip of my nose--"we went away to Nantucket for a weekend?" Another kiss on my cheek. "After Thanksgiving?" He placed another kiss on my forehead.

Surprised, I arched my eyebrow and gave him a playful glare. "Nantucket? Wait, are you serious, or are you messing with me?"

"I'm totally serious." He let go of me and rolled onto his back and stretched his arms toward the headboard.

"We have a townhouse there, and I think it'd be nice to get away for a weekend, just the two of us.

What do you think?" He paused for my reply, but I was too stunned to form words, so he continued.

"The island is incredible the whole month of December.

We'll get to see the Festival of Trees and do the Christmas Stroll since they start right after Thanksgiving. "

I snuggled my head into his shoulder and emitted a low anticipatory groan. I'd always wanted to go to Nantucket, especially after the Gilmore Girls revival showed Emily Gilmore living her best life there. It had always seemed like a magical place to visit.

"I can't believe you want to take me to Nantucket!

" I rolled my body on top of his and thoroughly enjoyed watching his wide smile appear, reaching both eyes.

I leaned forward and held the tip of my nose just above his.

My hair fell over our faces and hid us from the rest of the world.

I could smell the mixture of his warm skin and my fresh lavender laundry detergent.

Anticipation glistened in his eyes, and he groaned in excited frustration.

A wry grin spread across my face. "I say yes. "

His arms wrapped around my body and held me bent over, straddling his waist. Then he rolled over and flipped me onto the bed, the white duvet swallowing me in warm goose down.

He gently pinned my arms above my head and used his knees to hold my thighs apart.

His breath was shallow and fast. He leaned in as I lifted my head to meet him, my body vibrating with raw energy.

Our lips met, and my mind blurred with lust. He left my lips tingling, then began kissing and nipping at my neck.

Barrett kept going down, down-- oh my God .

Barrett and I danced and floated as one. Every thrust, every moan, every touch was ecstasy. I was an addict for Barrett Henry, and there was never going to be enough of him.

He moaned my name with raw need, then collapsed on top of me.

With my knees still pulled into my chest, he rested his head on my shoulder, his nose nuzzled into the crook of my neck.

"I love you." The vibration of his voice tickled my ear, and his breath softly brushed my neck.

I love you. My mind spiraled as I tried to justify what he'd just said.

My adrenaline rose again, and every movement, every touch shocked my sensitive body.

I love you. Oh my God, he loves me. Barrett Henry loves me!

It was terrifying, but I had yearned for this comfort, this safety, and this connection for a long time.

I lifted my head and nibbled his earlobe. I rested my head back down and gazed at him from under my eyelashes. "I love you too, Barrett Henry."

We lay there for a few moments more, and then we heard the bedroom door open. Louie had a nasty habit of forgetting to knock. He sauntered up his doggy stairs and squirmed between us. Moment ruined.

Barrett rolled off the bed and walked into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and take a shower.

I let Louie jump over me and find his favorite spot in the center of the covers.

I sat up and petted Louie, who quickly started snoring.

His white fur was soft, and his little pink nose wrinkled with every inhale and snort.

"What do you have planned for the rest of the day?" I asked casually as I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom to pee.

"I'm headed to the office today. Dad and I have a conference call with a high-net-worth client in Miami. He's been giving me more responsibility and the lead on accounts since he allegedly wants to retire next year," Barrett said while the hot water steamed up the bathroom.

Despite his confidence, I thought I could hear hesitation in his voice.

"Barrett, are you okay?" I was standing naked by the glass shower door trying to hear him. He'd gone completely quiet.

He opened the door and walked out to grab his towel hanging on a hook.

I stepped back as he wrapped it around his waist, then leaned against the wall.

He had one hand on his chest and the other on the wall.

He was heaving and struggling to breathe.

He removed his hand and leaned forward, hands on his knees with his head down, taking quick, heavy breaths with his eyes closed.

"Barrett!" My high-pitched voice echoed throughout the bathroom. I grabbed his upper arm and bent over with him. "What's wrong?" I rubbed his lower back in large circular motions. "Sit down, Barrett, sit down. Breathe. Take big, deep breaths."

I guided him over to the toilet and had him sit down with his head between his knees. I kept rubbing his back and guided him through the breathing that Tina taught me.

"Elle, I can't do this."

My heart plummeted. What did he mean, he "can't do this"? Us? After he just said I love you for the first time? "Do what?" I asked. "Breathe, babe. C'mon, big inhale, now slow exhale. I'm here. I've got you."

"I can't keep pretending. I can't keep doing this with my dad." He sat up and reached his hand over his heart. "Elle, my chest, it hurts. I can't breathe. Right now. I can't breathe." His eyes were wide and his pupils dilated. He was scared.

"Barrett, I'm here. I love you. I'm here."

Louie woke up because of the commotion and waddled over to his daddy. He whined and licked Barrett's shins.

"Barrett, do you think you're having a heart attack? This might be a panic attack. Have you ever had one before?" I held his hand and intertwined my fingers in his, firm and supportive. "Inhale, two, three, four--exhale, two, three, four," I repeated.

"No, no, this happens sometimes. It goes away, the chest pain goes away, but--" He was hyperventilating again. "It's not working, the breathing!" He was gasping for breath. "Elle, Elle, I'm..."

I grabbed both of his hands, moved to the floor in front of him, and looked him straight in the eyes. "Barrett, focus on me."

He held my gaze. I didn't blink. His eyes were wild and his body was trembling, but I held his face between my hands and never broke my stare.

"Okay, inhale deep. You can breathe, you are breathing. Barrett, you are not dying. I won't let you. Now, inhale deep. Do it."

He fixed his eyes on me. His bright blue eyes were red-rimmed and watery, but he took a large inhale. I saw his bare chest rise.

"Now exhale, slowly, as if you are blowing on a flame but trying to make it flicker, not extinguish. Do it, I'm here." I let go of his face and grabbed both of his hands in mine. They were clammy and shaky.

He blew out slowly through his pursed lips. The lightest breath brushed my face. "Exhale as long as it takes, then inhale again. Remember, you can breathe." I watched him take each inhale and release each exhale.

After a little while, his panic started to abate. His chest stopped heaving, and he stopped sweating. He closed his eyes in obvious relief and his heart slowly returned to a normal rate.

"A little better?" I asked, still holding on tightly to his hands and kneeling on the bathroom tile between his knees.

He nodded, appearing exhausted, and leaned forward to rest his forehead against mine.

"Elle," he whispered.

"Barrett, I'm here," I whispered back.

Louie was still whining and gently nuzzled my naked thigh.

"Elle, that wasn't the first one," he admitted.

"Barrett." I reached back up and cupped his cheeks in my hands. He sighed and tilted his head into my open palm.

"When that happens, I always think I'm going to die. Sometimes I wonder if that would be better." His voice was soft and raspy.

"No, Barrett. No. Never. Promise me." I pressed up on my knees and kissed his forehead. "I know what that feels like. That darkness and anticipation of no more pain, no more anything. I know how awful panic attacks can be. But dying isn't the answer. Living is."

He opened his eyes and met mine.

I wrapped my arms around his wet body and held him. Nuzzling my face into his neck, I whispered softly into his ear, "Please, Barrett, continue to live."