“Ella, hey, come in.”I smile at her, and she smiles back, for a little too long.Long enough to tell me something important is on her mind.Not that I didn’t already know.But now I’m sure it hasn’t faded since yesterday.
“Your place is lovely,” she says, stepping into the open kitchen-living room space.
“Thank you.”I keep smiling back at her.“Let me take your coat.You can put your purse down wherever you’d like.”She thanks me and hands me her coat, which I hang by the entrance.
“Is this your band?”she asks, pointing at a picture of me and the guys, held up by a fridge magnet.
“Oh, yeah.That’s me, Asher, Finn, and Elliot.”I list the names in order so she can match them to the right faces, though she’s already met Asher.
She smiles at the picture, lingering on it for a moment.Then she glances at the blender resting on the counter next to her, momentarily distracted.
I know Ella.She walks around rooms and circles around topics when she’s nervous or when something is difficult to say.There’s a very specific reason why she’s here.But she’s having trouble getting to it.
“Is everything ok?”I ask, easing us in.
She meets my eyes.Something tense building between us almost pulls me closer to her.
“Can we sit?”she asks, glancing toward the couch.
“Of course,” I say, and she heads to it.I follow.
“Miles…” She lets out a breath and lowers her head.“I don’t know how to start this conversation.”
“Ella…” I gently place my hand over hers.“It’s me.You know you can tell me anything.”
Her face looks hesitant, apprehensive, for a few silent seconds.We stare into each other’s eyes once again, but this time, there are tears in hers.
I feel restless.
She realizes it.
And after another deep breath, she tells me.
Chapter 64
Ella
August 14th, 2009
Friday
We took Miles’s car.It’s a very quiet ride.I glance at him many times.He’s in the driver’s seat, staring at the road, focused and unfocused at the same time.
I had thought about flying in.But the train was simpler, easier, faster.So I bought a last-minute ticket and arrived at the Grand Central Terminal a few hours ago.
After nearly an hour of silence, he rests his hand briefly on my left knee.Maybe to assure me he is still here.Or maybe to make sure, for himself, that I am.
When we reach our destination, I guide him with hand signals to where he should park his car.
I lead him into the Elmwood Center.
We walk slowly through the corridors.
When I stop at a door, he stops too, and he understands it.
I watch his breath quicken, his jaw tighten, his eyes fix on the slightly open door.
My hand reaches for his.“I’m right here,” I tell him, offering a soft smile.He nods once and lets go of my hand as I open the door, leaving him waiting for a few seconds more.
