“Reginald was shameless,” Mrs. Greenwood laughs. “I bet you miss him.” Her kind expression elicits a pang of sadness.
“Um . . . yeah . . . I do.”
“And how’s your mother doing? It’s always so hard to lose a parent, no matter how old they might be.”
“You know my mom. I think the money is some consolation.”
Mrs. Greenwood laughs knowingly, but Elinor looks at me askance. She’s right—I shouldn’t have said that, true as it might be. “Er... I mean... I think we all grieve in our own way.”
“That’s why I don’t paint anymore. I lost my muse when their father died. For a few years I was a total mess. I don’t know how we would have made it without Elinor.”
Elinor rolls her eyes as if to say,here we go again. I give her a sympathetic smile. But I’ve given up trying to change the topic. This is my one night to find out everything about her. Tomorrow she might not be speaking to me. So when she gets up to do dishes I follow her into the kitchen, and when we play Scrabble, I make sure I sit next to her. I’ve never found it so easy to talk to or tease someone. I’m nearly as shameless as Mrs. Greenwood and Annie. When Elinor mentions her favorite running trail, I ask if she’ll show it to me in the morning.
The only person who doesn’t acknowledge the obvious attraction between the two of us is Elinor. When the only free spot in the living room is on the loveseat next to me, she chooses to sit on the floor. When her mom suggests she take mestargazing, she begs off.
“Annie can take him. I need to go to bed.”
“I don’t think The Boy wants to go withme,” says a not-so-subtle Annie.
Elinor turns to me with a strained smile. “It’s been a day. I really need some rest. If you want to go stargazing, Mr. Frechette, feel free to go with my sister. As for me, if you will all excuse me, I’m going to call it a night.” She stands up and goes upstairs. My inclination is to follow her. But my better judgment prevails.
“GoodnessMr. Frechette,” says Annie. “You certainly got under her skin.” Mother and daughter break into laughter. Upstairs I hear a door close. I could find Elinor’s eagerness to get away from me insulting, except I get it. Meeting Ellie again has been sweet and surreal, and it feels almost destined. But fate sure has a twisted sense of humor. Could this reunion be any more complicated?
I may have promised not to kick her out of her home—but until I know how to deliver on that promise, this is not the time to start anything between us. Nothing good can come of the two of us spending more time together under a starry sky.
I do not attempt to deny... that I think very highly of him—that I greatly esteem him, that I like him. —Sense and Sensibility
8
Elinor
I flop onto my bed, put my pillow on my face, and let out a muffled scream. My mother and sister’s laughter drifts up through the floor beams. They mean well, I know. But why are they such relentless teases? What good do they hope to accomplish? Nothing can happen between Edward and me—not when his mom is my boss and probably making plans to sell the resort.
And Edward promised that we could stay in the cottage. When he first said this I was so relieved, I was nothing but happy. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if he can actually keep that promise.
It’s so incredibly frustrating to finally meet someone I really like and have the timing be so wrong. I spent the whole evening trying (and failing) not to notice him. Meanwhile, Edward seemed completely unbothered by my presence. Though there was that moment on the stairs... I don’t think I imagined him staring at my lips.
Footsteps in the hall interrupt my thoughts. The bathroom door slams closed. Someone is in the bathroom next to my room. It’s a Jack and Jill bathroom between my room and Annie’s, also accessible through a door in the hallway. Who thought it was a good idea to put three doors on one bathroom? I try to replay the sound of the door shutting in my mind. Was it the door from Annie’s room or the hall?
My ears strain for any clue to determine if it’s my sister or Edward next door. One of the reasons I went to bed early was toavoid a chance meeting with Edward in the bathroom. But now I can’t tell if it’s my sister or him who has turned on the shower. Annie always sings when she showers, so it’s probably Edward.
The thought of him in my shower unsettles me far more than it should. I can feel my face blushing and cover it with my hands, even though I’m alone in my room. I’m so embarrassed by how embarrassed I am.
It’s truly bizarre how much—and how quickly—I like this guy. How I keep wanting to touch him. I’m not a touchy-feely person—but around Edward I’m different. It’s as if my normal bubble of personal space dissolves when he approaches.
I could blame pheromones, I suppose, but the pull toward him isn’t just physical. He gets my humor, which is no small thing. I have a dry sense of humor, and not everyone—read: almost no one—can even tell when I’m kidding. But Edward can; I find that incredibly attractive.
And then he is just so easy to talk to. The same way my personal space bubble dissolves around him, my emotional barricades disintegrate after a few minutes of conversation.
For goodness sake, I cried in front of the man.
Whatever this is—this remarkable connection, this tug I feel toward him—it could be something amazing. Except my gut tells me he’s keeping something from me. Something about the cottage, or my work—or maybe both.
This attraction is simply an annoying inconvenience. He’s leaving tomorrow. We’ll go for our run, tour Norland, and then I’ll avoid him for the rest of my life.
***
I start awake. I’m laying on topof my covers still wearing the shirt dress I wore to work. According to my phone it’s 12:43 a.m. I must have fallen asleep while waiting for the bathroom to clear. The house is still. One good thing about falling asleep, I won’thave to fight anyone for the bathroom. I change into my silky pajama shorts and a tank top.
