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I take it upon myself to dish out the breakfast pastries, choosing an apricot tartlet for myself while Elliot demolishes two sausage rolls and an almond croissant.
“Hungry?” I chuckle as brushes flakes of pastry off his hoodie.
“Always. You have a little pastry”—his thumb glides over the corner of my mouth—“right here.”
His thumb lingers and without thinking, I dart my tongue out to flick the pad.
“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes flaring with lust.
“Sorry, I?—”
Elliot’s hand curves around my neck as his mouth comes down on mine.
The kiss isn’t soft or gentle, it’s full of heat and yearning, and I can’t help but climb into his lap to get closer.
“Easy, Red,” he murmurs as I press closer.
“Sorry.” I pull back, shame staining my cheeks.
“Don’t apologise. I love you like this. But I didn’t bring you out here for this. Okay? We have time.” He touches his head to mine, inhaling a ragged breath.
“Yeah, okay.” I go to slide off his lap, but Elliot wraps his arm around me, pulling me into his side.
“I haven’t been out here in a long time.”
“You used to come here a lot?”
“Sometimes, when I needed to get away.”
“Because of your dad.” I test the waters, not wanting to push him to give me any more than he wants to.
“My brother Scott is the golden child. A chip off the old block. Me, not so much.”
“I find that hard to believe.” I peek up at him.
“Believe it, Red. Johnathon Eaton is a hard man to impress, and I’ve always been his biggest disappointment.”
He tenses beside me, anger rippling off him in palpable waves.
“What about your mum?” I ask, because everyone talks about the formidable Johnathon Eaton but Julia Eaton rarely comes up in conversation.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Oh, okay.”
Silence turns to awkwardness, and I feel the icy wall start to build between us again.
“Fuck, Abi. I don’t… I’m not…” Anguish coats his voice, tugging at my heartstrings. “I don’t do this.”
“Hey, hey.” I twist around to him and take his face in my hands. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Elliot. But I want you to know that you can trust me with your secrets. And when, if you ever want to tell me, I’m here.”
He stares at me with utter disbelief and then mutters four little words that crush me.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“It won’t be easy,” he says. “Being with someone like me.”
