Page 43 of Unconventionally, Elle

Now

Nantucket was a dream I never wanted to wake up from, but once ?I was back home in Boston, reality was like a splash of cold water to my face.

A week had passed since our trip to Nantucket, and time was running out for my writing competition.

Fifty-five thousand words in, I was about twenty-five thousand words short of my goal for my first draft.

I'd read that eighty thousand words was acceptable for a contemporary romance, and so my goal was born.

How had Grandma Di done this? What was her story about?

She'd never mentioned it, and I'd never found anything when I cleaned out their New York home.

Actually, that wasn't true. I'd found her old working typewriter.

I had it on the desk in my bedroom, but I never touched it.

When I glanced at it, I thought about how she'd been alive, real, and her fingers had touched those keys.

If I didn't touch it, part of her was still in the world.

Those hidden fingerprints had created a story on that typewriter that had won this competition.

Sometimes--and I wasn't sure if it was grief or if something was wrong with me--I thought of my grandmother and questioned whether she'd been real.

Had she really existed? Now, of course I knew she'd existed.

But she'd been gone for more than five years, and without her in my life, all I had were pictures that didn't feel real.

They felt like history and longing. It didn't make sense.

I wasn't sure how to articulate how it felt to lose someone who was such an important part of your life and then try to keep living without them.

My mind would still play games with me; it made me question which of my memories were real.

Did Grandma Di really buy me all of the Nancy Drew books and fuel my love for reading?

Yes, I still had them on my bookshelf. Real, tangible books with her love notes and handwriting on the inside covers.

How could all of that exist without her here anymore?

My memories of her and my grandfather and my childhood felt like a life that happened hundreds of years ago.

Maybe even another life completely. My grandmother's typewriter was a tangible reminder of the woman I loved most and lost. One of the last reminders I had.

As I typed in my favorite booth at the coffee shop with a honey lavender latte by my screen, I thought about my grandmother. I kept wondering, had she kept a copy of her manuscript? I wished she had so I could read it and feel her presence, hear her voice, be a part of the world she'd created.

Lost in thought, I almost missed my phone vibrating with notifications on the table.

Barrett: Are we still putting up the tree tonight?

Me: Yep, that's the plan! I even got Louie a Santa hat so he can join the festivities.

Barrett: Okay, don't be mad. I'm still coming over, but it's going to be a little later than I thought.

Me: B, it's a Saturday. Your dad still has you at the office?

Barrett: I know, Ellz. I know. I promise, I won't miss this.

He kept his word. He walked through the door at ten p.m. and saw all of my Christmas decorations and boxes spread out in the living room. I'd purchased a beautiful eight-foot flocked tree online and had it set up as well. All we had to do was hang ornaments--and drink hot cocoa, of course.

"Where did you get all of these ornaments?" he asked as we decorated.

I could tell he was tired, but he was still decorating with me because he'd promised earlier. His eyes were tired, and noticeable dark circles had appeared. He yawned and hung another ornament.

"Oh, I don't know. Just over the years. Some were my grandmother's and some courtesy of Hobby Lobby." I laughed as I continued to string oversized ribbon and get the tree somewhat closer to my vision of a Pottery Barn tree.

"Damn, Elle. You're pretty good at this." He sat on the couch and watched as I went to work fluffing and putting ornaments in the precise spots I had imagined for them.

"It takes years of practice, and not to mention, I've watched many tutorials on how to make your tree look like it was professionally decorated." I winked at him and then got back to work. I grabbed our bag from Nantucket and pulled out our ornament.

"Barrett and Elle," I said with giddy delight. "You ready to put this gem on the tree?"

I looked back, and he was taking a deep breath with his eyes closed. A temporary look of relief graced his features.

"Hey, Barrett?" I whispered and walked over to him.

"Hmm?" he hummed with his eyes still closed.

"We can go to bed, babe. I know you've had a hard day."

He opened his eyes slowly and kept his mesmerizing gaze on mine. "Let's hang our ornament first. Deal?" He leaned forward and kissed me softly.

We walked to the tree together, traditional Christmas music playing low, and picked a spot on the tree for our Nantucket souvenir. Barrett and Elle.

About an hour later, we were lying in bed, my arm across his chest and his arms wrapped around me. My eyes were closed, and I let my head move with the rise and fall of his chest. Then the peaceful quiet disappeared and his phone was blaring.

He startled awake and reached for his phone but knocked it to the floor. He rolled out of bed and got on the floor to find it. It had stopped ringing by the time he had it in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed and went still.

I was still trying to get my bearings, and when my eyes focused, I saw Barrett staring hard at his phone, frozen. "Barrett, what's wrong?" I sobered up from my sleepiness and put my hand on his shoulder as I leaned over to get a look.

"Elle?" He looked up and I could see the fear in his wide eyes.

"What? What, Barrett?" I pleaded. "What's wrong?"

"Elle, I have a voicemail from my mom. I read the transcript. My dad had a heart attack. He's in the hospital." Barrett stood up and stumbled while looking for his pants on the floor. "I need to go." He looked lost, confused. Fight-or-flight was taking over his body.

"Oh my God." I couldn't comprehend the news fast enough. "Go, go! Do you want me to come with you? Drive you?"

What else could I do?

He nodded absentmindedly. I don't think he really heard what I said, because within minutes and without a word, he threw on shoes by the door, grabbed his jacket and keys, and ran out.

Louie stopped snoring and stood up on the couch to see where his daddy had gone.

I stood in the living room in only his boxers, my chest hurting and my mind reeling.

"What now?" I looked at Louie, who stared back at me with big brown eyes. I texted Emma, but she didn't answer. I texted Barrett--nothing. Finally, I called Finn and he answered after the second ring.

"Elle? Elle what's wrong?" he asked in a sleepy voice. I heard shuffling and Jackson in the background.

"I'm sorry, Finn, I know it's late, you know I never call, but--"

"Elle, what happened?" This time his voice was firm and awake.

"Finn..." I was trying not to cry. My body wasn't listening to me; I was officially freaking out, and my chest was getting tight.

Fuck. My head was pounding, and my throat felt like it was closing.

"Barrett's... dad... he had a heart attack!

" I said between sobs and choked breaths.

My chest hurt and I was hungry for air. "Barrett left, he had to go.

He's at the hospital. I didn't go. I didn't know, he didn't ask. I--"

"Elle, we're coming. We'll be right there." Finn hung up without another word.

Breathe, damn it. Breathe! Slow it down, Elle. Slow it down. I tried to coach myself through the anxiety. I had to; it was just me at the house. Inhale, two, three, four, exhale two, three, four.

About twenty minutes later, Louie started yapping. That was fast , I thought as I ran over to the door to open it.

"Stop, Louie, stop. It's just Uncle Finn," I pleaded with the Frenchie, who kept barking.

The knocking didn't stop. It was panicked and fast.

"I'm coming, Finn, I'm coming!" I yelled out. Overwhelmed by all the noise, I grabbed Louie and unlocked the door.

Barrett was standing there. He was leaning against the doorframe, eyes sunken and skin pale. His jacket was covered in fresh snow, and small flakes sprinkled his hair.

"Oh my God, Barrett, you're back?" He looked up sheepishly. "Why didn't you text me you were on your way? I was so worried!" My heart was racing, and I embraced his cold body.

I steered him into the condo and helped him to the bedroom. His eyes were vacant and lifeless. He was present but somewhere else at the same time.

"B, B, how's your dad, your mom?" I asked eagerly as he sat on the edge of the bed and shed his coat.

"I forgot my key. Sorry I knocked like an idiot.

" He didn't answer my question. "I wanted to get back as fast as possible.

It was a shit show back there, and I wasn't needed.

" He took a deep breath and lay back on his side of the bed.

His hands spread over his face and he let out a vicious groan.

Then he kept taking deep breaths. "So Finn is coming over? " he asked after a few moments.

"Yeah, I think Jackson too." I moved to lie beside him. I reached my top hand over to grasp his. His fingers welcomed mine and held on like I was the only thing keeping him here.

"They got worried when I called crying, and you and Emma weren't answering. I felt helpless. Actually, I felt scared... for you." I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed the back of it gently.

"I get it," he said, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm scared too."

"Yeah?" I said. "Is he okay, Barrett?" I didn't like his dad at all, but I certainly didn't wish him dead.

Louie, who'd jumped on the bed as soon as his mom and dad were in it, cuddled between us and began to lick Barrett's face.

"Yeah, he's okay. It was a heart attack, but they saved the bastard with an emergency procedure. Angioplasty, I think they called it? They put in a stent too."

"Oh my God, that's crazy." I squeezed Barrett's hand again and whispered, "Is he going to recover?" I stared at him while he continued to take deep breaths and stare at the ceiling.

"He will," Barrett said in a short, brisk tone. I knew their relationship was strained, but he was acting distant, hot and cold. I didn't have to wait long for an answer. "Elle, if he died, I'd be in charge. That's the last thing I want in this fucking world."

His voice changed so quickly, dark and fierce, that I flinched.

"But he's still alive, and of course I don't want him dead, but God, I don't know how to explain it." He sounded frustrated and brought his hands to his face again.

"Try," I coaxed in a soft, hushed voice.

"Elle, I'm not close to my dad, and I would say I love him in a very loose way.

Like the fact that he's my father, and that's all.

But then knowing he could have died tonight scares the shit out of me.

To be in charge of the company terrifies me.

It's inevitable, but it feels like this faraway thing, like my dad is immortal.

Does that make sense? I don't expect him to retire--I think he's full of shit.

I don't want to be in charge, Ellz. I don't want to become my father.

" With his hands still over his face, his body shuddered with sobs and frustration.

"Barrett, this means you're human. Of course you can care, but you don't have to.

The fact that you do means you're an incredible person.

" I slid closer and put my arm around his tense body.

"I love you, Barrett. I know you don't want to take over the company, and you're right, it's terrifying.

But I'm here, okay? We can make it through the tough days together.

" I kissed his cheek and nuzzled my head back into his shoulder.

"Barrett, he's okay," I said after a few minutes.

"Yeah, he is," he said in a choked tone.

We lay there a little longer with Louie snoring soundly between us. I grabbed my phone and texted Finn.

Me: He's home. His dad is okay-ish.

Finn: Thank God. We are almost there. Do you still want/need us?

Me: No, it's okay. Thank you for coming. Thank you for answering. Thank you for being you (+ Jackson). I love you both, but I'm lying here with Barrett right now, and I don't think he's getting out of bed after the night he had.

Finn: Understood. Text me tomorrow, K Ellz? We love you.

I put my phone down on the bed and turned it on Do Not Disturb. I don't know how much time went by, but I fell asleep holding Barrett close in my arms.