A smile blooms across her face and I don’t miss the pink tint that deepens on her cheeks. She steps out of the way, holding the door open. “Come in. I need to put these in a vase and we can eat out back.”
I walk into her home and she pushes the door shut behind me. I do a quick survey of the space. It smells warm and welcoming like sugar cookies.Like her.There are a few toys scattered on the coffee table in the living room to the right of the foyer. I follow her into the kitchen and watch as she moves over to the sink along the back end of the house. Ella reaches into one of the cabinets, her body elongated as she lifts up onto her tiptoes. As she reaches above her head, the bottom hem of her shirt moves farther up her torso, revealing part of her midsection.
My mouth is dry, my heart pounding erratically in my chest as I study her movements, my eyes trailing along the sliver of skin. Her fingertips graze the outside of the glass vase and she's unable to grab it. Closing the distance between us, I stop when I'm beside her and I reach up for the vase she's trying to get.
“Let me get that for you,” I say softly as my arm brushes against hers.
Ella sucks in a sharp breath and my fingers lightly brush hers as I wrap my hand around the vase and bring it down. It's not a far reach for me, seeing as I'm over a foot taller than her. Ella falls back onto flat feet, her head tilting back to look at me as I turn to face her.
“Thank you,” she says with a shy smile as our fingers touch again when she takes the vase from me. The electrical current ripples between us and I want to reach out and wrap my hand around it. I want to savor the feeling. Jesus christ, I want to savor every fucking moment with this woman.
We both fall into a moment of silence as she fills the vase with water. I take the opportunity to help, unwrappingthe flowers before handing them to her. Ella quickly snips the bottoms of the stems, cutting them at an angle while I pour the powdered flower food into the water. Standing side by side, she slides the flowers into the water and arranges them until they're sitting in the vase perfectly.
“I love them,” she says in the most gentle tone as she looks back at me with another smile. She takes a few steps to the island in the center of the kitchen and sets them down so they are the new centerpiece. “I love flowers,” she tells me as she turns back around. A soft pink tint blossoms across her cheeks, like she's embarrassed she shared the small piece of information with me. “Come,” she motions for me to follow her. “We should eat before the food gets cold. Do you want anything to drink?”
I don't tell her I don't care about the food.
I like these moments with her, away from the hustle and bustle of the bar. The soft, quiet moments where she shows me parts of herself I'm almost positive she doesn't share with anyone else.
“Sure.”
“There's some water and beers in the fridge,” she says and points toward it. “Do you mind grabbing them and I’ll have whatever you decide on too?”
“Of course.” I walk to the fridge, grabbing two waters and two beers before meeting her by the door. I don't want her to feel pressured to drink, so I'll let her choose and base my choice after hers.
Ella leads the way, heading out onto her back patio. There's a sectional set along the side of the house with a small fire pit in the center. Over to the right, there is a table with a set of chairs and a large umbrella overhead. My eyes scan the back yard, noticing the toys from Chloe scattered in the yard and a trampoline with netting around it in the back left corner.
“You have a beautiful home,” I say, taking a seat across from her at the table. Ella's eyes meet mine and I see a mixture of emotion welling in the depths of her irises.
“Thank you,” she says with a hoarseness in her voice. She opens the bag of food I brought, reaching inside before pulling out the separate containers. “It took me a while to get to where I am now and I wouldn't be here without Remi and her mother. They've done so much for me, helped me get on my feet so I can have a place like this for Chloe to grow up in.”
I watch her for a moment as she pops open both containers. Each one has two tacos and a side of rice and beans. She looks over them, realizing the tacos are both the same kind, and hands me one.
“I'm sure you already know this, but you're doin’ a great job, Ella.” I take the plastic fork from her as she hands it to me. Setting it inside the styrofoam container, I look at her. “You are an amazing mother and it's clear to see that Chloe is loved and well taken care of.”
She doesn't say a word. I swear, she doesn't breathe. Her gaze is glued to mine and emotion washes over her expression in one fluid motion before it pools in her irises. “I don't–I–Thank you,” she stumbles over the words, again struggling with a compliment. “Sometimes it doesn't feel like I am, so it's nice to hear that.”
Her words sink in as she turns her attention to her food. I watch her as she lifts a taco and takes a bite of it as I do the same with my own. I mentally make note that Ella enjoys words of affirmation. She may not realize it right now, and may struggle to accept compliments, but the emotion in her eyes is palpable. She's a single mom working to support her daughter, just out here trying her best and hoping she's doing everything right.
I know she has important people in her life, but it's clear that Ella needs to hear it more often.
She needs someone to remind her that she is doing her best and what she's doing isn't going unnoticed.
“How was your day?” I ask her, deciding to pull the conversation to a safer territory, away from a subject that is clearly packed full of emotion.
Ella looks back at me and dives into her day, telling me what she and Chloe did. I hang on to every goddamn word that falls from her perfect lips, fixated on the way they move and the shapes they take around the words she speaks. Ella turns the conversation to me, asking about my day, and it pales in comparison to the fun day she and Chloe had.
I tell her about the horses I worked with today and the calf that ended up getting into the wrong pasture. My brothers and I went on a wild goose chase for the little guy. I follow up by showing her pictures my mother sent from the work they’re doing in Argentina.
Her face lights up. “That’s so cool what they’re doing there.” She pauses for a moment. “South America is so beautiful.”
“Have you been before?”
She nods. “My ex took me to Belize before I got pregnant with Chloe.” Her words trail off, the silence enveloping us as her eyes grow distant and she looks past me into the darkness of her backyard. “That was a different lifetime.”
My heart drops into my stomach. This is the first time she's ever spoken of her past. Part of me wants to keep the conversation going, for her to elaborate. Yet, I find myself not wanting to pour salt in her wounds. I don't want her to talk about her pain unless she absolutely wants to.
I decide to take a chance, to see if she'll continue or shut down.
