“Now you start drinking!” Elliot exclaims.
“We all came out on top,” Mac observes. “Must be your luck rubbing off on us, Christian.”
“I’ll drink to that,” says Ethan.
I smile, settling into the plush leather of my seat. Yes. My win is a good omen. What a great way to end a most enjoyable evening.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
As we begin our descent into Boeing Field I reach for my seat belt and chuckle to myself. I’ve spent most of today buckling and unbuckling.
Elliot, sitting opposite me, looks up. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I just wanted to say thank you. For today. It’s been amazing.”
Elliot glances at his watch. “Technically, it was yesterday.”
“I had a blast. You’ve acquitted yourself well as best man. Your one remaining duty is to make a speech. Doesn’t have to be a long one.”
Elliot pales. “Dude. Don’t remind me.”
“Yeah.” I make a face. “I’ve still got to write my vows.”
“Shit. That’s heavy.” He’s horrified. “But this time next week it’ll all be over. You’ll be married.”
“Yeah. And on this plane.”
“Cool. Where are you taking Ana?”
“Europe. But it’s a surprise. She’s never left the U.S.”
“Wow.”
“I know. I never thought that I, I would…I can’t…” My voice trails off as a sudden unexpected surge of emotion sweeps over me. Is it fear, exhilaration, anxiety, or happiness? I don’t know, but it’s overwhelming.
Fuck. I’m getting married.
Elliot frowns. “Dude, why? You’re a good-looking guy. You’re a douche, but, hey, that’s because you’re a master of the universe with a big swinging dick.” He shakes his head. “I never understood why you weren’t interested in any of Mia’s friends. They were always crushing on you. Man, I thought you were gay.” He shrugs.
I smile, knowing my whole family thought I was gay. “I was just waiting for the right woman.”
“I think you found her.” His expression softens, but there’s a wistful look in his vivid blue eyes.
“I think I have.”
“Love suits you,” Elliot says, and I roll my eyes at him, because it’s possibly the sappiest thing he’s ever said to me.
“Get a room, boys,” Mac exclaims, and we touch down on the tarmac.
“I’m never going to let you forget that you’re the only groom in the Pacific Northwest who remained sober at his own bachelor party.”
I laugh. “Well, I’m just grateful I’m not handcuffed naked to a lamppost somewhere in Vegas.”
“Dude, if I ever get married, that’s exactly how I’d like to finish my bachelor party!” Elliot says.
“I’ll make a mental note.”
Elliot laughs. “Time to wake Ethan.”
Taylor is at the wheel of the Q7, driving Elliot and me back to Escala. Mac and Ethan, after some backslapping good-byes, have already left in a waiting cab. “Thanks for this evening, Taylor,” I say as I stretch out in the back. Elliot looks like he’s asleep.
“It’s been a pleasure, sir.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, and even in the surrounding darkness I notice the amused crinkles in the corners. I take my phone out of my jacket pocket.
No messages.
“Have you heard from Sawyer or Reynolds?”
“Yes, sir,” Taylor responds. “Miss Steele and Miss Kavanagh are still out.”
What? I check my watch. It’s after one o’clock in the morning.
“Where is she?” I swallow my alarm and glance at a comatose Elliot.
“At a nightclub.”
“Which one?”
“Trinity.”
“Pioneer Square?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take me there.”
Taylor’s eyes flick to mine, his expression doubtful.
“You don’t think it’s a good idea?” I ask.
“No, sir.”
Damn.
Count to ten, Grey.
I remember the one and only time I’ve been in a nightclub with Ana was at that bar in Portland, where she was celebrating her final exams.
She got so drunk she passed out.
In my arms.
Shit.
“Sir, Sawyer and Reynolds are with her.”
This is true.
Put yourself in her shoes. Flynn’s words nag me.
This is her night. With her friends.
Grey, leave her be.
“Okay, take us back to Escala.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hope I’ve made the right decision.
I rouse Elliot as we pull into the underground garage at Escala.
“Wake up, we’re here.”
“I wanna go home. But if you wanna nightcap or something, I’m up for it.” He can barely open his eyes.
“Taylor will take you home, Elliot.”
“I’d like to see you into the apartment first, Mr. Grey,” Taylor says.
“Okay.” I sigh, knowing that he’s still in mother-hen mode, concerned about my safety. He parks beside the elevator and climbs out of the car.
Elliot opens his eyes. “I’ll stay in the car,” he mutters. I reach over to shake his hand, but he grabs it, forcibly. “Fuck off with your fucking handshake,” he grumbles, and tugs me into an awkward embrace, which is clumsy and male and…welcome.
“Don’t crease the suit,” I warn, feeling oddly touched by his gesture. He releases me.
“Good night, bro.”
I slap his knee. “Thanks again. Do you need the stuff you left here?”
“I’ll be back Friday night for the rehearsal dinner.”
“Okay. Good night, Lelliot.”
He grins and closes his eyes.
Taylor accompanies me up to the penthouse.
“You know you don’t have to do this, Taylor.”
“It’s my job, sir.” He looks straight ahead.