“This is a great coat closet,” Elijah called from where he stood by the main building, thirty feet away. “For coats. Nothing else but storing coats should take place in this closet.”
The lady, Rebecca, who was giving us the tour of the venue, gave him a confused look. “The wedding is in September. There will be no coats.”
“Oh, yes, you’re right. I guess it’s open for other things then.” He threw a smirk my way.
I didn’t humor him with a reaction. When Michael couldn’t come, he’d sent his brother as a replacement, probably not realizing Tara had found her own replacement. Either Tara hadn’t known he was coming or she was a really good actress because, when we’d pulled into the parking lot and saw him standing there, she’d seemed genuinely surprised. Had I not driven over with her, I would’ve found an excuse to leave by now. We’d already been here twenty minutes, and this was not the firstlook at this place where adventurous people who aren’t uptight can have sexcomment Elijah had made.
The venue was gorgeous: gazebos and man-made rock waterfalls and flower gardens and even a small lake. There were so many good spots that Tara was having a hard time picking a place for the ceremony. Both Elijah and I had given our opinions when asked. I’d picked the dock by the lake, he’d picked the rock garden. But those opinions didn’t seem to help her choose.
So now we were in the pavilion, where the reception would take place, going over details about food and décor. It had a large stone fireplace at one end and a walkway to the main building and kitchen at the other end. And apparently a coat closet.
We needed more plants in our restaurant, I decided, as I stood by one of the large pillars holding up the pavilion, andstared out at vast amounts of green. Our restaurant had an outdoor patio and we had a large tree and some plants, but not nearly enough. I wondered how hard it would be to drape greenery in the overhanging beams of our patio. It could use a water feature too.
“Tara,” Elijah said. “I’m stealing your friend for five minutes. We have some homework to do.” He took me by the hand and started leading me away.
“Not in the coat closet,” I said to Rebecca, who I could tell now, by the expression on her face, wasn’t oblivious to all the less-than-subtle comments Elijah had been making. “We’re not even together.”
“You needed to make that clear?” he asked.
“Very much,” I said.
When it was obvious that I was following him without coercion, he dropped my hand. I wasn’t sure where he was leading us until he stopped at the waterfall spot we’d seen earlier. The one we’d all decided was a little too distracting for a ceremony. Water poured over a large slab of smooth rock, coating its face and landing in a narrow horizontal opening at the bottom, where it then traveled around a square sitting area. It was very pretty but also a bit echoey and demanded attention. No bride wanted to compete with that—well, Tara didn’t and I didn’t blame her.
Elijah swung his leg over one of the chairs, straddling the back, then nodded to the chair positioned behind his.
I sat.
“I didn’t think I’d see you today,” he said. “But rules are rules, and it’s convenient for me that you’re the rule-following type.”
He draped his arms over the back of the chair. I crossed my legs.
It was one of the first warm days since I’d arrived, and the birds were enjoying this fact. They chirped in the tree branches above.
“Did Dr. Franklin tell us we couldn’t talk during these staring sessions?” he asked.
“No, she told us we couldn’t touch,” I said.
“Right, she knows us so well.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I mean, she’s not far off on your side.”
“You think I’m having a hard time not touching you, button?”
I leaned forward, our eyes still connected, and said quietly, “Don’t worry, I don’t feel special. I think you have a hard time not touching everyone.” With those words, I reestablished the distance, pressing my back into the chair.
“Oh, but you are special,” he said with a smile full of sarcasm. “Coming back to your childhood home after some kind of setback. On a healing journey or something. Oh, wait, that’s not special, that’s pretty standard.”
I nearly laughed out loud at how wrong he was. But I didn’t. I wanted him to think all the wrong things. The more wrong things he thought, the easier it would be for the therapist to tell that he didn’t know me at all. “Healing is important,” I said.
“That’s why you promote therapy?”
“I mean, I’m not running its marketing campaign or anything, but yes, I think therapy is important,” I said.
“If you lose this bet, are you going to change your mind?”
“When you lose, are you changing yours?”
He smirked. “I’m not going to lose.”
