Obviously there is no love lost between these two, indicated by Landry’s annoyed sigh when she uses the nickname she gave him years ago that he absolutely hates.
While the two of them quietly bicker back and forth, I take a minute to look at Landry. He looks handsome in his black tuxedo, just like he always does. Hair perfectly styled at the salon in town, nails manicured, clean-shaven, and smelling of expensive cologne. With my four-inch gold heels, we’re exactly the same height. I’ve never had to crane my neck or stand on my toes to kiss him. We’re perfectly matched in every way.
Every way but the one that counts. I’ll never love him. I’ll never be able to give him what he wants. I stand here looking at him, so handsome and well dressed and full of so much love for me, and all I can think about is a man who towers over me, looks just as amazing in jeans and a T-shirt as he does in a uniform and who doesn’t need to bother with fancy cologne because the smell of his body mixed with his soap is the most intoxicating scent I’ve ever experienced. If I had a fully functioning heart, it would be breaking for Landry with the way I’m betraying him with these thoughts of another man. As it is, my stomach is tied in knots every time I look at him and my head is full of regret every time he smiles at me because I can’t give him more. I can’t give him all of me, because the man that has always filled my thoughts, a man I never thought I’d see again, is now alive.
I hear Meredith softly curse beside me and I look over to see her eyes trained on the wide open front door. When my gaze moves in that direction, the gaslight lanterns hanging outside on either side of the door flicker and cast a warm golden glow of light in the doorway and my champagne glass slips right out of my hand.
The feel of liquid splashing against my arm and Meredith fumbling and bumping into me makes me realize her quick reflexes must have caught the glass before it shattered to the floor, but all I can see is the man standing in the open double French doors. The clear, starry night behind him makes a perfect backdrop and I hold my breath as he moves around a few people milling about. His eyes meet mine from a few feet away, and I press my hand to my stomach to quell the butterflies flapping around as I watch his eyes move over every inch of me, from head to toe, as he continues walking in our direction.
“Isn’t that the Eli James fellow from the news?” Landry asks. “I don’t remember him being on the guest list.”
He definitely wasn’t on the guest list. My mother would rather set her hair on fire in front of all these people than invite him to our home. Him being here can only mean one thing and that one thing does not make the nerves taking over my stomach calm down. Eli was never a fan of my mother, even before we started seeing each other. As our relationship advanced and I started trusting him enough to open up about my life, his dislike for her grew tenfold. There’s no way him showing up here tonight is for any other reason than to make her nervous and put her on edge and I know it will not end well. He has no idea that just by being here, my mother could assume I had something to do with it and go back on every promise she made me and ruin everything for him.
What the hell is he thinking?
By the time he gets to the table right next to my mother where people can pay for their tickets for dinner if they haven’t already done so, a small commotion has begun in the entryway. Everyone knows who Eli James is, thanks to the news blasted across every television station the last few months. Not only is he a hometown hero, he’s a national hero, and his presence here is not going unnoticed. People whisper and point in his direction, a few walk up to him and pat him on the back, welcoming him home and thanking him for his service. I watch in awe as he casually shakes the hands of strangers, his eyes always coming back to mine, until my mother finally notices what is happening right in front of her.
I take back everything about how I thought Eli looked better in jeans and a T-shirt. I’ve never seen him in a tuxedo, and especially not one that looks like it was made especially for him. Unlike most of the men in the room who are wearing bow ties, Eli has paired his black suit with an emerald green necktie and coordinating pocket square sticking out of his left breast pocket. In a sick twist of fate, we look like we match. Like a couple who planned their outfits to complement each other, but I know it’s just a fluke and I won’t allow myself to wonder if he did it because his favorite color is still green. The color of my eyes.
“What’s your favorite color?”
“It used to be blue, but I’m more partial to green these days, because it’s the color of your eyes. A man could completely lose himself in those eyes of yours.”
“Are you a lost man, Eli?”
“Not anymore, Legs. Not anymore.”
“Mr. James, welcome home,” my mother says, pulling me out of my thoughts when I hear the fakeness in her voice, carrying loudly over the hushed conversation so that everyone can witness what a welcoming and wonderful person she is, when I know just how much she must be seething inside at the sight of him. “I wasn’t aware you were on the guest list, but I’m sure we can make a concession.”
I move forward to stand next to her, feeling like I want to throw my body in between the two of them to protect Eli from whatever my mother might say or do.
“I hope you don’t mind me crashing the party,” Eli tells her, his baritone voice warming my chilled skin. “I’m sure you know this charity is very near and dear to my heart.”
My mother nods, clasping her hands together low and in front of her body.
“The more the merrier, but I regret to tell you the tickets are quite expensive. I’m sure you understand. It’s for charity,” she tells him with a tight smile as a few flashes from the media’s cameras go off.
And there it is. With a polite smile and a sweet voice for everyone who stands around us listening in, my mother just put him in his place by inferring that he can’t afford to buy a ticket to an event that should benefit him. After everything he’s gone through, she has the nerve to deny him entry.
As I try to formulate some valid excuse as to why he doesn’t need to pay for a ticket without making either one of them look foolish, Eli reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a black leather wallet.
“Sorry, I found out about this fancy function a little late, so I didn’t get the memo on the cost. How much is it again?” he asks, flipping his wallet open and waiting for her to respond.
She laughs at him like he’s a silly little boy who just told her a precious joke, adding in a pitying shake of her head
“It’s one thousand dollars,” she whispers dramatically, widening her eyes to emphasize the steep price.
Eli whistles and I have to bite down on my lips to stop a hysterical giggle from escaping. “Wow, that’s pretty steep.”