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“It’s harder than I thought,” he says. “The lying.”
It is. Even harder as my feelings grow. Because I’m not just lying to Maggie and others about what Eli and I really are to each other, but in a way, I’m lying to him about what I want us to be. I’d prefer to steer us away from this conversation before I do something stupid, like make a declaration in the darkness.
“I had an issue at work today,” I say, and when he hums encouragingly, I proceed to tell him about Dr. Evil refusing to write my recommendation.
I can feel his anger growing in the way he tenses beneath me. Without allowing myself time to overthink it, I reach up, running my finger over the whiskers on his jaw, remembering the way they left my cheeks pink and raw after kissing in thebathroom. He sighs under my touch but doesn’t completely relax.
“Why would she do that?” he asks.
“She isn’t a very nice person.” Which is being generous. “And I think she might be … jealous.”
“Of what?”
“Of you, dummy. Or, I guess, ofmefor having you.”
“Well, that sucks.”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. I’m not even sure why—maybe because Eli’s answer was so simple. Some people might have blamed themselves unnecessarily, when this is clearly a Dr. Evie problem, not anyone else’s. It’s also a relief to talk about something—even if it’s a stressor—unrelated to the marriage situation.
“It does suck,” I say. “Especially considering I need to turn in applications soon.”
Two professors from my undergrad program at UNC-Asheville wrote recommendations, but it would be better to have someone from a work environment.
“You know,” Eli says, “I think one of the women in Mom’s book club works for a vet hospital. Give me a few days, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“No one’s going to write a recommendation for someone they don’t know,” I protest.
“Give me a few days,” he insists. His hand glides up my back, then down again in soothing strokes.
I want to protest more, to tell Eli he doesn’t need to fix all my problems. He’s definitely trying—earlier he insisted that when he’s out of town, I’ll be driving his car while mine gets a tune-up and some new tires. I couldn’t argue my way out of that either.
And honestly? After being completely on my own for a few years now, it feels so incredibly nice to have someone taking care of me.
“Now that we’ve solved all your problems for the night”—Eli ignores my snort at this—“go to sleep.”
“If nighttime Bailey is feisty, nighttime Eli is bossy.”
I swear, I can feel him holding back whatever it is he wants to say, but after a moment he only huffs out a small laugh. I’m almost asleep when that deep voice rumbles again, his lips brushing my forehead.
“And Leelee? I don’t want Van borrowing any of your books. Or coming anywhere near your bedroom.”
“Bossy,” I murmur.
“You have no idea.”
I wake when the bed moves again. It takes a moment to shake off sleep and remember Eli climbing in here with me. I smile, rolling to face him, missing his warmth and his hand on my back.
But as I turn and find myself staring at a pair of navy eyes, it takes me a few seconds to make sense of what I’m seeing.
Because it’s not Eli next to me in bed.
I bolt upright in bed, clutching the comforter to my chest. The woman —who shares Eli’s eyes and his winsome smile—bolts up right next to me.
“Sorry to scare you,” she says, grinning and not looking the least bit sorry. “I’m Annie. Nice to meet you.”
CHAPTER 19
Eli
