He is in fact talking about the dice tattoo that I wanted to add on my wrist.
I look at him, deadpan. “Since when do you believe in the universe? You’re a man of science and exact measurements.”
“I believe in signs.” He shrugs. “And you’ve been talking about this new piece for months. Maybe the hold-up is a sign to rethink the design.”
I shake my head. “It’s not the design. It’s the principle. Although… I did fuck this tarot reader three weeks ago who told me I was blocking my own chakras with indecision.”
Eli chokes on his water, coughing. “You slept with a tarot reader? How did I not know this? Did she read your palm or… other things?”
“She read my fortune in more ways than one.” I smirk, leaning back. “And you didn’t know because you’ve been a little distracted lately, brother. You’ve been walking around with your head in the clouds, smelling like a flower shop. I haven’t had a chance to tell you about my love life because you’ve been too busy hiding yours.”
Eli adjusts his glasses, a nervous habit I’ve noticed him doing more often lately. He picks up his water glass, taking a long sip to avoid my eyes. “You, Fallon McKenna, do not have a love life. A sex life? Sure. Love life? No.”
“You’re deflecting. Give me details about the florist. Go.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Bullshit.” I stand up, rinsing my plate in the sink. “When are you going to tell me about Amber? And don’t say ‘there’s nothing to tell,’ because I saw your face when you brought those flowers home. You looked like a lovestruck teenager.”
Eli sighs, setting his glass down on the counter with a clink. He looks down at his hands, then up at me. A faint flush creeps up his neck.
“She’s… she’s pretty,” he admits, a small smile tugging at his lips. “She’s funny. And she’s incredibly hardworking. She runs that shop mostly on her own, deals with crazy brides, takes care of her daughter. She’s resilient.”
“I know all that. I met her, remember?” I dry my hands on a towel. “The question is, why aren’t you with her right now? It’s Sunday evening. It’s almost seven o’clock. Shouldn’t you be wooing her with more lemon tarts?”
Eli’s smile fades slightly. “She had a crisis at the shop. Some big wedding order went wrong, or a supplier messed up. She’s been handling it all day. I didn’t want to get in the way.”
“So you like her.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out, the word heavy with emotion. “Fuck. Yeah, I do.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“I don’t know.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up. “I don’t know what we are yet. We’re just… having fun. We’re taking it slow. I don’t want to rush her. She’s… she’s got a past, Fallon. Things she’s working through. I don’t want to be another source of stress in her life.”
I study him. Eli is the gentle one, the nurturer. It makes sense that he’d fall for someone who needs healing.
But he doesn’t do casual well. He wears his heart on his sleeve, even when he tries to hide it behind a recipe book.
“Just be careful,” I tell him, my tone softening. “You’re a good guy, Eli. Don’t let yourself get hurt if she’s not ready for what you’re ready to give.”
“I can handle it,” he says, though he doesn’t sound entirely convinced.
The silence stretches between us, loaded with unspoken worries. I need a break from the heavy atmosphere. I need butter and salt and flashing lights.
“Alright, enough of the heart-to-heart,” I say, clapping my hands together. “I need to get out of this house. I looked at the listings for the Fox Hollow Cinema. They’re doing a screening ofHow to Train Your Dragontonight. The animated one.”
Eli looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “The kids’ movie? Didn’t that come out like ten years ago?”
“It’s a repeat screening. Probably some nostalgia night.” I grab my jacket from the hook by the door. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Eli wrinkles his nose. “Fallon, we are grown men. We can go to a bar. We can go to the Smokehouse, play darts, you can pick up women. Why do you want to go see a cartoon?”
“Because I’m too tired to deal with people. I don’t want to shout over music. I don’t want to dodge drunk patrons. I want to sit in the dark and eat overpriced popcorn.” I look him dead in the eye. “I miss movie theater popcorn, Eli. Come with me.”
Eli stares at me for a long moment, then glances back at the dining room, at the wilting flowers on the table. He sighs, a long, dramatic exhale.
“Fine,” he says, grabbing his own coat. “Fuck it. Let’s go see the dragons.”
