Why hadn’t she waited for me? I slam a hand into the steering wheel and click off my phone without a goodbye.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I groan, feeling my heart racing. I’m here to protect her, and I let her slip away.
When I get to the house, I take the garage steps two at a time. Bypassing Pam in the living room, I call out, “Where is she?”
“She went to her room, but…” I don’t hear the rest of her explanation as I push through the swinging door of the kitchen and take the stairs to Ella’s room two at a time. Faintly, I hear my name called behind me, but I ignore Pam. Ella stands near the large window in her bedroom. Her arms cross over her middle, and I rush up to her. With her back to me, her only warning is her name on my lips as a plea of forgiveness, and then I circle my arms around her and tug her to my chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” My face buries in her neck. The right side. Ella rests her cheek on my head.
“I panicked.”
“I didn’t listen,” I admit.
“You didn’t,” she softly admonishes. I’d ignored her fears and should never have left her alone.
“Ethan?” Pam’s voice comes from behind us, and I straighten, spinning only partially. I don’t release Ella. I refuse to let her go. I need to feel her in my arms.
“Pam, please.” It’s a plea for understanding and privacy. This isn’t her concern. Pam shakes her disapproving head, caution written on her face, but Ella and I are adults. We don’t need Pam condescending us. After a long, hard look, she acquiesces.
“Call me if you need anything,” she offers.
I nod back at her, thinking she’s speaking to me.
“Ella?” Pam questions, clarifying her concern is for her boss’s sister.
“Thank you, Pam,” Ella states as her hands cover my forearms around her middle. Her touch makes a statement. She wants me.
Once Pam leaves, I’m quiet for a moment, just inhaling the flowery-spicy scent of Ella as I press her to me.
“You can’t run off like that,” I softly admonish of her disappearance. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I panicked,” she repeats.
“But I’m here for you, so don’t leave like that ever again,” I warn.
“You can’t protect me every second, Ethan.”
I can, and I will. “I want to, though. I want to be with you.” The admission is a lot, considering her fears, but I want to reassure her that I want to be wherever she is.
She leans back into me, her eyes lower. We stand without words for another second.
“In a few weeks, Karyn and Tom host their annual Halloween party. I thought meeting them would make you more comfortable because I want you to go with me as my date, but I won’t ask. I won’t push. The invitation is open, and you tell me if you want to attend.”
Ella nods, but her silence gives me her answer.
She isn’t going in public ever again.
Card 21: Lobster Treats
Melted butter, a must
[Ella]
After the football game fiasco, we remain in the house for days. It’s cold and blustery outside as October can be, and Ethan stays close. He’s always reaching out to touch me or press a kiss to my skin when he can sneak one. I don’t mind. It’s sweet, but after days of his nearness, I sense him hovering. Is he being romantic or paranoid?
I don’t mention the man at the football game to Jacob. I might have recalled a face if I had been closer to him, but from a distance in the high school bleachers, I just didn’t see him clearly. He wore glasses that reflected in the bright lights. There was no doubt he was talking about me, and I freaked. I should have waited for Ethan and asked him to take me home, but my sense of fight-or-flight kicked in, and flight won the battle. I snuck up to the top of the structure after telling Karyn I needed a restroom. A ladder took me down the backside of the bleachers.
A week later, I enter the kitchen to find Ethan mixing all kinds of ingredients that smell heavenly.
“What’s this?” I giggle with enthusiasm at the scent.
“I’m making a cake. Pumpkin spice.” His eye dance as he looks up at me, and my body shivers. It’s nice to have someone look at me like he is, look me in the eye and not see the damage to my face. Ethan’s told me repeatedly he doesn’t see the scars, and he assures me often how beautiful I am, but does he see inside me? I’m still damaged deep down, but does he know how much I want him? How my feelings have gone from zero to a zillion in a matter of weeks?
“A cake? Did Pam tell you it’s my birthday?” I tease.
“It’s your birthday?”
Oops.
“I’m thirty today.”
Ethan sets down the spatula and stares at me. “Thirty? This is big. This is huge.” His hands fly into the air.
“Well, it’s not that big,” I state, suddenly feeling old.
“No. I mean, we should celebrate. We should go out.” He steps toward me and then pauses. He asked me to go out with him last night. Town Tavern on Thursday evenings is a family tradition, he’s told me, and he wanted to introduce me to the rest of his friends. His sister and I didn’t speak much at the game last week. However, I declined his invitation even when he told me Pam would be there. I argued he could use a break from me, and I wanted to work on my collection. He stayed home instead.
“This is special,” Ethan says, lowering his voice. “We could go someplace quiet and secluded.”
“We already are,” I tease, my voice weak. Ethan nods.
“I want you to go upstairs and take a bath. Do your hair or whatever girls do for a special night. No shit on your face, though, and don’t come down until I tell you to.”
“Okay.” I laugh, feeling suddenly a little giddy.
“And put on something nice. Something that makes you feel sexy.”
Oh my.
“Maybe keep it appropriate, or the second I see you, the rest of the night will be celebrating in only one way.”
His eyes fixate on mine, and I know what he means without asking for clarification.
Ethan wants to have sex with me.
And I want to have sex with him.
+ + +
Hours later, Ethan calls me downstairs. I enter the kitchen to find it empty and press through the swinging door and stop. My breath catches as I take in all the candles. Large and tall ones light the fireplace mantel. Skinny and elegant ones stand on the dining room table, and between are scatterings of collections. The only light in the room is the dozens of candles, and then I see the flowers.
Peach roses.
“It’s the closest I could get to your hair color,” Ethan states stepping to me. “Happy Birthday, Ella.” He leans forward and kisses my cheek. Then he steps back and looks at me. I’m wearing the plum dress which I redesigned to show off my scar instead of covering it. Ethan stares, taking in my exposed skin. His gaze eventually travels over the body-hugging material. The silk feels incredible, and the outline suggests curves—the ones my body really doesn’t have. Still, I feel feminine and elegant in the dress. The way Ethan’s eyes roam my body, he looks ready to devour me.