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“Shit . . .” I drew out the word, scrambling to my feet. “I can’t believe we fell back asleep.” I walked over to the door and opened it for Jillian. “Hi . . . hey . . .”
“You two missed breakfast. I volunteered to come see what was going on. Oh, hey Elliot.” She waved with a gawky smile as she stepped inside.
I glanced at the living room, Elliot was still on the floor, using his elbows to hold him up—bare chest and blanket wrapped around his waist. Then there was me. Wearing nothing but my robe. Well, my pajamas were under my robe, but I didn’t really think a tank top and shorts would count as adequate pajamas. I looked at Jillian, trying to figure out what was going through her mind. I didn't have to wonder long because she finally blurted out . . .
“I thought this was a fake relationship?”
Elliot scoffed, “Yeah, well . . .”
“Elliot, why don’t you go get dressed?” I stopped him before he could say anything . . .impulsive.He smiled at me, before standing and letting the blanket drop to the ground, revealing only his boxers. He flashed us a smile and then walked upstairs and into the bathroom. I looked back at Jillian with my eyes wide. “Nothing happened.”
She pursed her lips and hummed. “If you say so. Mom was just wondering why you missed breakfast and, by the way, you and Elliot have been getting closer . . .”
“You know it’s for show.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that, but you were just canoodling on the couch.”
“Sleeping. We were sleeping on the couch!” Elliot called from the balcony. “She came to wake me up and we fell back asleep.”
Jillian’s expression only got better and better. Her smile grew, and her eyes were basically sparkling.
“I need to get ready, and we will be over for lunch before I have to head to the gallery,” I said sternly, ignoring her look.
“Is Elliot going with you?”
“Um, we haven't talked about it, but I don’t see why he would want to. I just need to talk to the director,stand by my painting, and then go have dinner with all the fancy people who may, or may not, want to buy my painting.” The knots were coming back just thinking about it. “He would just be bored.”
“What would he do instead? I guarantee you he’d rather be with you than stuck with us.”
“Actually . . .” Elliot came down the stairs wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt while his hair was still an absolute mess from the couch. I never got the gray sweatpants thing, until this very moment. “I wouldn’t mind going to that outlet mall for some nicer clothes. I saw your dress and think I should probably dress nicely for the occasion. I can meet you there before the showing starts, and I promise I’ll be the perfect arm candy for you.”
“Ooo, arm candy,” Jillian fawned.
“He's joking.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, okay, as great as this is . . . we’ll see you two at lunch?” Jillian wanted to so badly laugh, or say something else about how this was supposed to be fake. If she could, she would keep this going.
I nodded, grabbing onto her shoulders and pushing her out of the cabin. “Yes, lunch. See you soon.”
As soon as she was gone, I spun on my heels and glared at Elliot.
“What?” His voice rose at least four octaves as he raised his hands in surrender.
“Arm candy?”
“Well, yeah.”
“Maybe you need to keep some of thoseimpulsivethoughts buried.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
-Elliot-
Harrison, Holden, Will and I took the boys to the small outlet mall that sat on the opposite end of Park City. We found the men's suit store, and all began taking turns trying on new “fancy” clothes for Aunt Jamie’s first festival appearance. I settled on a simple, gray dress shirt, black tie, and black slacks. My Converse would be acceptable enough—add a bit of flair to the business-look. After deciding, I changed quickly, helped the kids pick out a nice set, and my stomach flipped when I saw the time—it was close to two. Jamie was most likely already at the gallery. She urged me to come here with her brothers, gave me a sweet kiss, and told me she’d see me at the gallery.
“Uncle Daxton.” Killian pulled on my shirt as I paid the cashier. The use of the word “uncle” always tugged at my heart. This kid wasin no way related to me, yet he adopted the term “uncle” on his own. “I want shoes like you.”
