Page 139 of The Truth of Us

I walked away to cool down and get ready. And when I emerged within the hour he mentioned, wearing wide leg light wash jeans, a white tank top and a soft pink cardigan, just a touch of makeup and my hair pulled up in a claw clip, I was honestly a little nervous.

This wasn’t the glamorous, polished me that Elliot had been drawn to.

But he pulled me to him with a fire in his eyes whispering how beautiful I was while peppering little kisses over my jaw and up to my forehead.

When we drove towards the city, I got nervous; I wasn't dressed for anywhere we’d normally go. But Elliot reassured me, and I needed to trust him, or this would never work.

We parked, and he ran around to open my door. I slipped on my oversized sunglasses in hopes of hiding most of my face, and Elliot helped me out.

We walked into a little cafe and Elliot ordered us coffees while our fingers remained threaded together the entire time. Hand-holding had never felt so intense before.

The cool spring air wrapped around us as he led me around the corner from the coffee shop and right to the farmers' market. I noticed a few people watching us: a girl who recognized us right away and pulled her phone out as soon as the recognition clicked.

Elliot pulled me to his side protectively and whispered, “Just focus on me.”

So I did.

Elliot bought maple butter that he said would be perfect with some of the bread and biscuits we'd seen at one of the bakery tents. When we returned, the baker, still looking at us as if she'd just watched the ending of her favorite romance after Elliot pulled me to his side so I could steal a bite of the sourdough she'd offered him, smiled warmly.

"Do you think we could make bread?" Elliot asked.

"I think so," she laughed. "Here." She slid a small jar of her sourdough starter across the counter with a handwritten note explaining how to keep it alive and bake with it. "Every good loaf has to start somewhere."

We shopped for the better part of the morning, Elliot assuring me we could have a picnic with everything we were buying. We talked to a farmer with cured meats, and Elliot asked if there were any farms that we could visit. He chatted away, looking so comfortable in this environment that it made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt.

When we came across a stall that had daffodils and tulips, I absolutely squealed. I grabbed a couple of bouquets for the house, and Elliot slipped them under his arm with the bag of goodies we had bought along the way. We kept walking until we came across a young woman with a guitar. We stopped to listen to her, and Elliot grabbed a card from her guitar case. I hadn't even noticed I was swaying until Elliot turned me with a flourished twirl. Pulling me closer to him, he rasped into my neck, “Dance with me?”

And even though we experienced a spring sun shower, and most people found cover in booths, Elliot held me close and danced with me. The guitar notes mixed with the sound of the rain, and I got lost in him. My heart beat in time with his and I felt the words wanting to burst out of me, but I couldn’t say them yet.

When the song was over, Elliot dropped money in her case and wrapped me in his arms; the rain stopped and everything looked brighter.

We walked, and Elliot led us to Central Park, where the rain looked like it had woken up every inch of the area. Raindrops glistened on the cherry blossoms; the smell of warm magnolias wrapped around us as we walked leisurely and people-watched.

A little girl with rain boots and pigtails ran past us with a bubble wand, and a mother hustled to keep up with her, pushing a stroller. I smiled at the scene, and Elliot kissed the top of my head, then my nose when I twisted to look up at him. So many things were being said with the look he was giving me.

The day went on like that, Elliot silenced his phone when the pings of us being tagged in social media posts became too much, so I did the same and it was so refreshing not to be focused on what people were saying about my life and just living it.

The weekend was beautiful, and Elliot found ways to woo me, his words, even during the week, even when calls in different time zones kept me glued to my computer well past dinner.

Elliot set my laptop up in the sitting room and had a tray of bite sized foods I could eat while I worked.

He was working hard to show me he could be the man who respected me, took care of me, and loved me.

Near the end of the week, when he had to go to Chicago, I got nervous. Worried that once he left, it would all stop. He said he had to stay overnight and promised he would be back for the weekend to continue our dates he had planned.

I breathed out a sigh of relief when he came back late Friday afternoon. He seemed a little stressed when he got back. Elliot wrapped me in a massive hug and asked if he could just hold me for a little while, and then we could figure out dinner together.

That weekend we visited a rescue animal sanctuary near Hudson Valley, ate homemade soup and fresh baked pie from a tiny family-owned neighborhood restaurant, and volunteered for a park clean up initiative where no one cared how much money you had in the bank, just that you showed up and cared enough to help clean and pick up garbage.

The next week passed, and then came another weekend of dates. A sunset ferry ride with no plan of what to do on the other side, just enjoying the journey.

Elliot was working hard on finding regular everyday things for us to do together that still felt incredibly special. We were building a real relationship, a foundation that hadn’t been there before, and day by day I could feel my walls lowering.

37

HARPER

Coming out of the library after a long day and finding Elliot with a shiny white gift box in front of him in the sitting room had me feeling all kinds of things. The last time I had received a gift from him, or better yet seen a box like that, was when I had packed up everything Elliot had gifted me in our month together and sent it back to him on my way out of Chicago.