That Thing Between Eli and Gwen (26 page)

“It was.” He smirked, mostly to himself, taking my hand and not going into it further.

I squeezed his hand, smiling to myself. “I have this image of you up late, researching me.”

“That doesn’t sound like a stalker at all. It was after our debate at NYU. I saw how all the students were in love with you, and I wanted to know more. Then you showed me your gallery, and I wanted to know what other people thought, too.”

“Oh no,” I groaned. “I got a few really bad reviews.”

“Screw Jeffery Carlyle from the
New York Times
. Only a man with a defective heart could be such a critic of your work,” he said.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s what Mr. D’Amour said about you.”

“I wasn’t a critic, I was just…” He tried to think of the word.

“A critic?”

“Uneducated. You can hardly blame me for that. Once I knew a paintbrush from a canvas, I was able to realize you really are talented…stop smiling at me like that.” He leaned toward me, laughing, and rested his head in my lap. “Honestly, though. When I first saw it, I was moved, and you keep moving me.”

“Why can’t I see his head?” my dad yelled.

Eli quickly sat back up.

I wanted to jump out of the car. “Dad!”

“Sorry, sir.” Eli held me back as I turned to the man whistling in the front seat like he hadn’t just killed our moment.

“This was a bad idea,” I muttered to myself.

“Why? You don’t think I can take it?” he asked when we pulled to a stop. “Don’t worry about your dad, Guinevere. Whatever he throws, I’ll do my best. Plus, look at this face. How could anyone hate it?”

Rolling my eyes at him, I stood up.

He jumped out first, reaching up to help me.

“She’s been jumping out of things since the day she was born; she doesn’t need your help, city boy,” my father called out, letting Taigi off his leash.

“It’s called being a gentleman, Dad,” I said to him, jumping down on my own.

“It’s called being a—”

My mother gave him a look, and he didn’t finish his sentence…thankfully.

Eli brought our bags out from the car.

I turned back to him. “You can still run. The airport is only twelve miles from here, that would be a breeze for you,” I said quickly.

“I’m not running from your father, Guinevere, especially after only a few verbal jabs. By the way, your house is beautiful,” he said, stopping to take it in.

Our house was a large log home that sat on the right end of the lake. It was only when you stood at the lake's edge that you could see all the other homes around it. The mountains hung in the background. I took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth.

“Gwen!”

I jumped back when three grown men in plaid shirts and mountain boots ran toward me, lifting me up.

“Guys! Down, now!” I yelled at them as they threw me up.

They laughed, catching me and putting me back on my feet.

Eli’s eyebrow lifted up as his gaze shifted to each of them.

I wished I could read his mind. “Eli, this is—”

“Boys, don’t mind the city slicker. Come in, we've got supper ready,” my father yelled from the door.

I just looked up to the sky.
Kill me now!

“City Slicker, good luck.” They patted him on the shoulder on their way into the house.

“And they are?” Eli pointed to them.

“Okay, crash course, my dad most likely invited them to make you uncomfortable. The boy with the longish brown-blond hair is Jeremy Lawrence, he’s 23, and was Stevie’s first boyfriend. Never bring her up, because he still has a thing for her. He’s now the town mechanic. Malik Washington is the one with the short, curly afro; he’s the same age as me and works for the Cypress Police. Last, and most important, is Roy. My dad’s been trying to set me up with Roy Griffin since we were kids. He’s like the golden boy after my dad's heart, and he teaches photography at the high school,” I finished, taking in another breath, and yet he didn’t seem one bit concerned. “Did you get all of that?”

“Yep,” he said, taking our stuff toward the house.

When I stepped inside, they popped streamers at me. “Welcome home, Gwen!”

Pulling streamers off my head, I laughed. Maybe this would be all right…

Chapter Twenty-One

The Inquisition of Eli Davenport

Eli

It was cute how worried and nervous she was for me, but there was nothing she could do or say to her father that would make him ease up, nor did I want her to. What her father wanted was for me to prove to him that I was worthy of his daughter. In most cases, for fathers, that’s impossible. I would never be worthy, I would just become tolerable. That was fine; tolerable was good. It was just I had no road map to get there, and what made it worse was the last person who had tried was an absolute buffoon of a man. Masoa Poe now had as much faith in me as he did in a snowman lasting in the desert.

“I made all your favorites, Gwen.” Her mother led her to the table where she had laid out a whole spread, from baked chicken and salmon to gravy, bread, rice, and pies.

Guinevere looked down the length of the wooden table, and then back to her father. “Thank you, but please tell me you haven’t been eating like this. Dad, you had a heart attack. Shouldn’t you be eating fruits, vegetables, and nuts?”

She had a point.

“Do I look like a deer to you?”

She frowned.

He shook his head. “Your mother’s been keeping me on the health food, okay, sweetheart? This is just to welcome you home. Maybe if you remembered how good home-cooked meals are, you would come home more often.”

“Eli’s a great cook,” she said proudly, taking her seat.

I noticed the boys all quickly sat around her, forcing me to sit across from her and right next to her father at the head of the table. Her mother sat at the other end.

“You cook?” her mother asked me, placing the dishes around.

“Ma’am, my mother wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She nodded proudly. “Now, if someone else would listen to their mother.”

“Who will say grace?” Guinevere changed the subject, quickly raising her hands.

I looked at her and she nodded.

“You don’t say grace?” Roy questioned.

“I do.”
Not.

“I’ll say it, then.” Guinevere clapped her hands together. “Bless this food, and the people who prepared it. Many thanks for the meal and the company, may it fill our stomachs and electrify our souls.”

“Not bad.” Roy nodded toward her. “I like the ‘electrify our souls’ bit.”

“City Slicker, what does your mother do?” Jeremy asked, grabbing a piece of chicken.

“She’s the acting chairwoman of the hospital I work for.”

“So, you are both doctors? What type? You look like a dentist,” Malik questioned next.

I shook my head at Guinevere, telling her not to jump in. I could see what they were doing: asking all Masoa’s questions so he didn’t have to.

“Dentists are important to a person's health. I, however, am a neurosurgeon, while my mother’s specialty was pediatric surgery.” I took a bite of the salmon. “This is incredible, Ma’am.”

Guinevere grinned. “What did I say? Home of the—”

“
The
best wild salmon in the country!” I replied, shaking my head as I fought the smile spreading on my lips.

“And you thought I was joking.” She nodded proudly while stuffing her face and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud; she was cute. She glanced up at me and I kept staring at her.

I was about to say something when her father coughed beside me, reminding us we weren’t alone.

“Thank you, Eli. I’m glad you enjoy it,” her mother cut in.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed in on me as I ate. “Neurosurgeon, huh? Fancy, but does it count if your mom runs the hospital?”

“I graduated top of my class at Yale Medical. I was offered the choice to stay there, but I wanted to be closer to my family. So of course I went to work for my mother’s hospital.”

I knew it was coming. I felt it.

Don’t ask. Don’t.

“And your father?” Roy pressed.

Called it.

Guinevere put her fork down. “Guys, we just got back. Can you save the questions for another time—”

“It’s fine. My father was also a neurosurgeon. He died of a heart attack when I was eleven. I was there with my mother and younger brother when it happened.” I looked to her father, who had yet to say anything, but whom I could feel watching me. “So, sir, I truly hope you are taking much better care of yourself. The last thing I want is for Guinevere to feel like she was cheated out of time with her father.”

Just like I knew it would, the dinner table became silent; it was why I hadn’t wanted them to ask—I knew it would just make them feel awkward.

“Okay.” Jeremy cracked his neck side to side. “Lightning round. You ready?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“How old are you?” Malik asked, not answering me.

“31.”

“Born on?”

“June 23
^rd
.”

“Where do you live?”

“Right next door to Guinevere.”

They all looked to Masoa, then Guinevere, and back to me.

“He lived there first, and I moved in next door,” Guinevere replied. “No, I didn’t know.”

Roy picked the questions. “Where did you grow up?”

“Townhouse on East 63
^rd
Street in New York.”

“This your first time ever leaving the city?”

“No. I’ve traveled, but mostly to other cities.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“No.”

“Do you want kids?”

“Eventually.”

This time, they looked to Guinevere, who quietly finished off her salmon. Finally, she gave up and glared at them before turning to me. “I’m not a kids person,” she replied.

I found that hard to believe. “You love kids. You spent most of your time visiting them in the hospital.”

“Oh, I love them, but in expected, limited doses. Plus, I can always just give them back to their parents,” she replied.

“She wants her mother to die of a broken heart is what she is really saying,” her mother replied, frowning at her.

Guinevere sighed. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve gone from a hard no to a maybe.”

The boys looked at me.

“Are you out of questions?” I asked.

“What’s your favorite movie?” Malik asked as seriously as he could.

“Guys, really?” Guinevere frowned.

“I have to agree, that was a weak one.” Her mother laughed.

“
Ocean's Eleven
.”

“Me too.” Guinevere smiled.

“Wait!” Roy raised his hand. “Which version, 1960 or 2001?”

“2001.” I hadn’t even known there was an earlier one.

All of them—including Guinevere—groaned.

Her mom shook her head.

“He can’t be perfect.” Guinevere tried to defend me, but ended up frowning. “Really? Clooney over Sinatra?”

“I really didn’t know there was an earlier one,” I said to her, causing a few sighs.

Malik grinned. “No one thinks it’s a weak question now, huh?”

“Did you know Eli owns a Black 1965 Aston Martin DB5 Vantage Convertible?” Guinevere asked, trying to save me.

All the guys looked to her.

“No way.”

“I took a picture.” She sang happily and tried to get her cell phone.

“No phones at the dinner table,” her mother said.

“It’s a 1965 Aston Martin,” Malik said to the older woman.

“Mrs. Poe, it’s James Bond’s car,” Jeremy added.

“No phones at my dinner table,” she repeated sternly.

“Yes, Ma’am,” they both said.

I chuckeled.

For the most part, Guinevere kept them entertained with her stories from the city, everything from randomly dancing on subway platforms to local musicians, the mural she had painted, and even her failed attempt to run. I noticed she spoke with her hands when she told her stories, as if she was trying to paint a picture in the air. Every once in a while, she would shift her hair to the side, shoot me a small smile, and then focus back on the men around her. When she stood up to clear the plates with her mother, so did I, taking them from her.

“It’s fine, I got it. Finish your story,” I said, following her mother.

“I’ll admit it, City Slicker is pretty smooth.” Malik whistled.

“Keep talking, Malik. I will get you back, I promise,” Guinevere threatened him.

“I’m an officer of the law now, Gwen. I’m not scared of you—”

“Is filling your truck with spiders against the law?”

I looked back as as I put the plates in the sink; she and the rest of them just laughed at his horrified facial expression.

“Aren’t we a little old for pranks like that?”

“Said the man who’s ‘not scared,’” Roy muttered, drinking his water.

“Like giant children, aren’t they?” her mother whispered, shaking her head.

“Don’t we all kind of revert to giant children when we’re around our siblings? As mature as I hope I am, I still enjoy messing with and teasing my little brother,” I said as I rinsed the dishes.

“So they don’t make you nervous?” Her eyebrow rose.

“Not at all.” They were at least talking. My eyes shifted to her father sitting at the head of the table, listening to his daughter.

 “I got it, thank you, Eli. You can head back to the table.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Besides, once you sit, Guinevere will come over and the boys will go for some fresh air on the lake. Good luck.” She winked at me.

I wanted to know if she was in my corner or not, but figured I’d just have to wait and see. Sure enough, when I headed back, Guinevere got up to help her mother.

“It’s too warm in here,” Jeremy said, right on cue.

“Should we go outside for some fresh air?” I asked him.

All three of them looked me up and down before their gaze moved to Masoa, who stood, turning to his wife. “Sweetheart, we are heading out.”

“Really? All right, we will join you all soon,” she said as if she was surprised.

Yep, the one I have to really watch out for is her mother.
“I’ll be fine, ma’am.”