Page 59 of Drive Me Crazy
“Did she find her?” she asks gently.
“Turns out she’s remarried and lives just outside London. Even has a few stepkids. All this time, she was less than a three-hour drive away but never tried to reconnect.” I take a moment to collect myself. “I always held out this ridiculous hope that she’d show up and apologize, ask how we’re doing,say she’s proud of us, and want to have some sort of relationship. Now I realize how terribly pathetic that was.”
“It’s not pathetic,” Ella answers. “Not at all.”
I’m not sure I can even get words out. The air feels too thick to swallow.
“We reached out to her,” I say after a minute of silence. “Want to know how that went?”
Ella rubs the back of my neck, her fingers expertly massaging out the tension that’s building.
“She’s glad we’re both happy and well, but she doesn’t think reconciliation is in her best interest,” I whisper. “She only wants to focus on the future, not the past. The past, meaning us. As if we’re not important. Like we’re collateral damage or something.”
“Look at me.” Ella places her hands on either side of my face. “Anyone who doesn’t fight to have you in their lives is a damn fool, okay?”
I nod slowly, not sure how to tell her that those words mean more to me than anything. “It really fucked with me and that’s why last year … ” My words trail off.
“It’s okay,” she tells me. The sigh I release is grateful; I really don’t want to dive further into what a mess I was. “I figured something happened. I just didn’t know what.”
“Then you come along and you’re all smiles and sarcasm and sweet and sexy. And it scared the shit out of me how much I liked you, how much I wanted you to like me. I’ve been scared of falling for you, and you breaking my heart. I’d be lying if I said it still doesn’t scare me. But what we have is real and special and yeah, pretty fucking scary, but not having you in my life is even scarier. I’m ready to admit how much you mean to me. I’m still working through a lot of shit, but I want to do it so I can be the guy you deserve.”
“And you’re sure you don’t just want a fuck buddy?”
Her voice sounds nervous, like I’m going to suddenlychange my mind. It may have taken me an extra few weeks to realize it, but now I’ve never been so sure of something.
“I promise you I don’t want casual. Or friends with benefits, or no strings attached. I want so many strings attached we’ll look like marionettes.”
I can see the bottled-up doubt inside her fading away. “Or a tangled-up ball of yarn.”
“There’s a lot of shit I don’t know, but I do know for certain my life’s better with you in it.”
Ella suddenly scrunches up her nose. “Dating your biographer isn’t going to be good for your image.”
“It’ll look better than me humping and dumping my biographer,” I point out. “I’m not worried about how you’ll affect my image, El.”
“What if we get into a fight and I write mean things about you?” she argues. “I bet you’ll worry then.”
It takes every ounce of control I have not to roll my eyes at her. “Ella, are you seriously playing devil’s advocate to try and convince me tonotwant to be with you? It won’t work, love. I’m all in.”
She bites her lip. “Then I’m all in too.”
Happiness spreads through me like nirvana, releasing me from the past month of stress and worry. Ella tips her head up, looking at me with those sparkling eyes. She rewards me with one of her stomach-flipping smiles. Knowing it’s because of me? Better than winning a damn Grand Prix.
The air crackles with electricity as I cup her jaw, searing my lips to hers, kissing her with all the words I can’t say, but need her to know. To think I almost missed out on this. No-holds-barred kisses just as pure as her heart and dirty as her mind leave me wanting more no matter how much I have already. If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d have Ella out of her clothes and on the table by now.
“You have no idea how badly I want you.”
I’maching with need, the bulge in my pants impossible to ignore.
“Here’s the thing.” Ella shoots me a mischief-ridden look. “You have no idea how badly I want to finish that matzo ball soup.”
The force of my sudden laughter knocks my head back. I’m not sure if I should be offended or not. Ella’s commentary used to throw me off my game, but now that I don’t need any game, I can just enjoy it. She leans into my chest, the weight of her like a security blanket, then leisurely kisses a trail down my cheeks, my neck, my jaw.
“It tastes just like my grandma’s recipe.”
I groan. “Can you not talk about your nan right now?”
She smacks my arm playfully, happily dipping a pita “chip” in spinach artichoke dip. The chip versus fry and crisp versus chip issue has reached a standstill.
