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“Remember?” Elliot still looks like he’s trying to solve a math problem so difficult even he finds it tricky.
“Yes.”
“Okay. But what do you remember?” He shakes his head like a dog with something stuck in its ear. “I don’t know what any of these words mean.”
“Telling you that you have nice arms.” I don’t mean to shout it, but it does come out kind of shouty.
“Ah,” Elliot says, realization finally dawning as he turns back the second cuff one more time. As upset as he is, his mouth quirks up at one corner.
“And now you’re showing them off to me again.” I put the crook of my elbow over my eyes to shield them from the beauty. “To try to get me to change my mind because of your lovely, strong, and perfectly shaped forearms.”
“You’re the first person on this planet who has ever complimented my forearms.”
“Then you’ve been mixing with the wrong people.” I uncover my face and point at him again. “Because they are spectacular.”
“Thank you. But I’m not trying to manipulate you by showing you perfectly ordinary parts of my body you’ve seen many times before. I’m actually just very warm. So is that an okay reason to roll up my sleeves?”
“I suppose. But they won’t make me change my mind.” I stand straighter, able now to put equal weight on both feet. “I always knew I shouldn’t go anywhere near them. I always knew they’d ruin everything. And… they’ve ruined everything.”
“Max will come around. Please let me talk to hi?—”
“No.” I show him both palms. “I’ve told you. I’ll fight my own battles.”
“You are definitely a one-woman army. A force to be reckoned with. And your brothers wouldn’t be where they are now without you.” He stands up and puts his hands into his pockets, which only highlights his forearm muscles more. “And I totally get this is your time, Charlotte. I truly do.” He’s sure of himself. Certain he’s right. “But Max is being a dick. And he might listen to me.”
“I said no, and I meant?—”
My phone pings in my bag. I pull it out on instinct. “Holy fucking shit.” I look from my phone to Elliot. “You’re right about one thing. He is being a dick.”
“What’s up?” He steps closer to look.
“Text from George. He’s in the driveway to pick me up. Max told him I need to go home now.”
That’s it. Max is so furious he’s sending me home. He’s pulling the career rug right out from under me.
Elliot snatches the phone from my hand and looks at it in disbelief. “That is a total dick move.” He hands it back and strides off, all assertive again. “Seriously. Wait here. I’ll go find him.”
“No, Elliot.” I do mean to shout this time. “You can’t fix this. I have to fix it myself.”
He throws his palms to the sky. “How?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to start by getting in that car and out of Max’s sight. And yours.”
30
ELLIOT
“U
ncle Elliot can’t manage a third dance, Braith,” I tell Gwyneth’s eight-year-old daughter.
Her little fingers cling to mine. “But you’re the best dancer.”
I’m not actually her uncle, since I’m her mom’s cousin, but there doesn’t seem to be a word for that, so we all decided on uncle long ago.
Max pushes behind me to get to Polly, who’s dancing with Gwyneth and Connor’s fiancée, Rose.
I grab his arm. “Here you go,” I tell Braith and join her hand to his. “Uncle Max will take over while I have a rest.”
