CHAPTER TWO
Elijah
Special Report: Gift Return Policy Loopholes.
What the major department stores don’t want you to know.
—Charleston Post
Walking up the stairs to a second-floor apartment in an unfamiliar part of town feels like a dream. I don’t know the girl in front of me from Adam, but I follow her in a trance. Laughter drifts from an unseen source, a baseball connects with a metal bat at the park across the street. Life as usual. Except for mine. When I woke up this morning, my entire life was plotted out on a strict timeline. Now it’s like someone used their backhand to sweep my milestone markers off the table…and they’re all left suspended in midair.
Was I really just left at the altar?
If I had my cell phone, it would be shrieking like a fire alarm in my pocket. But I didn’t bring it to my wedding, since everyone I knew was going to be there. And they were. My parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and colleagues came expecting to witness a union, before retiring to Gadsden House for dinner and cocktails. They bought clothes for the occasion, booked hotel rooms and purchased gifts. What are they going to eat for dinner now that their plans have changed? I pause on the stairs. Maybe I should have carried on with the reception. It wouldn’t kill me to smile for a few hours and let everyone enjoy the party they were promised.
“Are you coming?”
Several steps ahead of me, Addison leans against the wobbling railing, inspecting her nails as if she couldn’t care less whether I follow or not. Moving fast, I grip the unsteady wood in my left hand, in case it decides to give way behind her, little thing though she is. Her eyes cut to mine at the action, somewhat startled, before she goes back to examining her nails.
Lord. She’s such a departure from the mayoral aides, campaign volunteers and Charleston residents who beam as I pass them in hallways and streets, addressing me as Captain Du Pont. Yes, Addison is indifferent. Insulting, even. When I drifted down the steps of the church, at a loss for the first time in my life about what to do, an invisible wind seemed to push me toward the car. An outlandish notion if I ever heard one. I was merely hoping to avoid making everyone feel awkward. Southern manners dictate that each and every guest pat me on the shoulder and tell me I’m better off without Naomi. Jumping into Addison’s car was simply the easiest way to spare them from that obligation.
It has nothing to do with the instant…kinship I felt for her when she smiled and shook the half-empty bottle of Grey Goose at me.
“Yes. I’m coming.” I clear my throat and continue up the steps, raising an eyebrow when Addison shrugs, as if she can take me or leave me. It’s not a reaction I’m accustomed to—and it’s somehow exactly what I need. Because I’ve just been abandoned in front of an entire congregation. And I’m not ready to unpack why I’m more upset about the guests being cheated out of dinner and a party…than I am about my newly forced singledom. Addison’s nonchalance gives me an excuse not to think. To leave the mile markers of my life hanging in the air.
Just for today.
When we reach the door and Addison turns the key, it sticks, so she jiggles it, black hair falling into her face. She must belong to Naomi’s side of the family, since I don’t recognize her. There’s no doubt I would remember Addison. Dressed in leather and scuffed boots with a permanent sulk to her mouth, she’s the polar opposite of my fiancée. Ex-fiancée. Not to mention, this neighborhood and her car don’t suggest a high income. Whereas Naomi will never have to work a day in her life, thanks to family money.
“Where did you come from?”
“Huh?” Addison finally gets the door open, but pauses in the doorframe at my unrehearsed question. “New York. I’ve been there about six years, but before that I—”
“No, I mean today. Where did you come from today?” The last hour is a blur, but I try and recall the timing. “If you were in the church to see what happened, you only had about a minute to go get your car. Before I walked out.”
“Anyone lucky enough to be near an exit would have fled, too.” She rolls her lips inward and lets them go with a pop. “It was painful.”
I find myself fighting a smile. This girl is kind of mean. Have I ever met a girl who doesn’t hide a mean streak behind backhanded compliments and bless your hearts? “Yet you picked me up. If it was so painful, why bring me along as a reminder?”
“Do you always question basic human decency?” She gives an annoyed flick of her hair. “So, before we go inside, I have to prepare you. The place is decorated for Christmas. You will lose count of Santas and Frostys. It can be jarring at first.”
“You seem like more of a Halloween girl.”
Addison pats her head. “Is it the devil horns? I thought I hid them better.” A twist of her lips, then she’s pushing into the apartment, flipping on a ceiling light. “This place belonged to my grandmother. She passed away a few weeks ago and left it. To me.”
Just as promptly as she makes that pronouncement, she’s gone from the room, vanished down a back hallway. My sympathy sits on the tip of my tongue, waiting for her to come back so I can express it. But the longer she stays away, the more I start to think she doesn’t want it—and left the room for that very reason.
Shaking my head over Addison’s unique nature, I turn and get my first glimpse of the open-plan living and dining area. Well I’ll be damned, she wasn’t lying. There’s fake snow on every surface, Christmas lights—although not plugged in—are strung from every corner of the ceiling. There are no less than eight Christmas trees, some floor-sized, some perched on brightly skirted tabletops. Suspended from the middle of the living room ceiling is a giant plastic sleigh…and eight reindeer being lead by Rudolph.
When Addison returns, she’s mid-sentence by the time she clears the hallway. “There’s a master switch to all the Christmas stuff. When I flip it on, this place turns into Kevin McAllister’s house in Home Alone when he’s trying to convince the robbers his parents aren’t in France. That they’re actually home having a party?” She wiggles her fingers. “It’s like having the nuclear codes, except I drop fake snow instead of bombs.”
“I like it.” I turn in a circle, noticing a mural depicting a trio of carolers. “Think of all the time you’ll save on decorating in December.”
Her shock of laughter brings me up short. It’s nothing like the husky purr I would have expected from her. No, it’s bright and clear and appreciative. “Exactly.” She scratches her eyebrow. “You want to see?”
“Dying to.”
“Well…if you feel like getting comfortable…” Her indifference is back in place as she struts to the kitchen. “No one is stopping you.”
There was a moment in Addison’s car where I thought she was propositioning me. Clearly I was way off. Although, she’s nothing like the women I’ve dated, so reading her in that regard is something of a challenge. Everything about her is bold. Her clothing, the long, black hair that moves with her, the spontaneity. The way she looks me in the eye like we’re adversaries even when she’s smiling. Like I said, nothing like the polite, often predictable—God forgive me for saying so—women of my experience. Considering her lack of interest in me, I’m probably nothing like the men she sees, either.
Searching the room for signs of a man, I’m not sure why I relax upon finding nothing since I’m only here to check out for a while. When I try to pinpoint where everything went wrong, though, a throb starts behind my right eye. Dating. Couplehood. Based on today’s events, I’ve been doing them wrong. For two years, I’ve been telling Naomi I love her. I’ve been her plus-one to parties, we’ve gone skiing together, double dated, posed for engagement photos. Wasn’t that love? Weren’t the two of us in love?
Yeah. Yeah…I think we were. When I came back from my three tours overseas, our parents began putting us in the same place often enough that it seemed natural to start dating. We talked about having children and picked out china patterns. She smiled and waved at my campaign events. People don’t do those kinds of things for one another unless they’re in love. For some reason, though, I missed the signals telling me she wasn’t going to show up to the church today. I missed whatever was wrong—and I missed it hard. Last night at the rehearsal dinner, Naomi seemed like her usual smiling self. Not a hair out of place. But someone doesn’t just skip town to avoid their own wedding if they’re happy. And I had no clue.
“Ready?”
Addison’s voice calling from the kitchen snaps me to attention. “Yes, ma’am.”
She groans. “Ma’am this.”
The apartment roars to life. Roars. “Carol of the Bells” clangs from several reanimated toys. Rudolph’s nose turns a bright red and the sleigh begins to travel in a circle around the living room. Monkeys slap cymbals together, at least ten different versions of Frosty begin to dance and millions of Christmas lights twinkle, giving the space an ethereal golden glow. It’s like standing in one of the department store windows on Fifth Avenue in New York City. Just overwhelming and comforting and…a little terrifying all at once.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” Not having heard Addison approach, I turn to find her standing beside me, her head only reaching my shoulder. “Do you get to the City Market very often?”
“I used to.” Thinking of the stack of paperwork and emails and invitations waiting for me at City Hall, I sigh, knowing the sound will get swallowed by the abundance of noise. “Used to sneak in for free praline samples when I was young. Haven’t been in a while, though.”
“Running for mayor is time consuming. That’s why I’ve never done it.”
My laugh sneaks up on me. “Oh, is that why?”
Her lips twitch. “My grandmother had a coveted vendor permit at the market. She’s been selling Christmas ornaments there since I can remember. The booth is aptly named Jingle Balls.” The floorboards move under our feet as she shifts. “She left me that, too. Added my name to the license and never told me.”
“Are you going to run from the room again before I can offer condolences?”
Her arms drop, mouth opening and closing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“No explanation needed. But I am very sorry, Addison.” I take pity on her by changing the subject. “Are you going to work at the booth?”
It takes her a few beats to answer. “I wasn’t going to. I was going back to New York as soon as I tied up her loose ends,” she says, sounding somewhat dazed. “But when I went to collect her things…I figured, maybe one more day? And now I’ve been selling Christmas ornaments for two weeks. In freaking March.”
“You like it.”
“Yeah. I like it.” She turns to me with a far-off expression. “My grandmother raised me. She was really good to me, even when things got hard. It doesn’t seem right to abandon her life’s work quite so fast.”
Underneath the glow of Christmas lights, something is becoming very hard to ignore, though I’ve been doing a good job until now. Addison is a beautiful woman. That’s an understatement, actually. When I was a young boy, I overheard my grandfather describe a woman, saying, “That one could end friendships, start wars and make a glutton suck in his gut.”
Seems to me a woman shouldn’t be blamed for wars, simply because of her appearance, but I understand the sentiment. Long story short, Addison is a complete knockout.
What the hell am I doing here? My relationship just ended without preamble. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be headline fodder. What happened today might even affect the campaign. I’ve probably got a search party looking for me by now. Hell, I’ve somehow offended my fiancé enough that she jilted me. The last thing I should be doing is standing in another woman’s apartment, noticing she’s gorgeous.
“You’re freaking out on me,” Addison says. “Is it the dancing Frostys?”
“No.” I press two fingers to my eye socket. “I’m sorry. Impulsive decisions aren’t like me. I should be back at the church saying goodbye to everyone. Denying southerners their chance to give condolences is a sin. They’ll want to hear me say I’m fine.”
Maybe I should be trying to find Naomi. Weird how I’m only thinking of that now.
“Are you fine?”
“I don’t know,” I say on an exhale. “That’s why I got in your car. I needed somewhere to go figure that out.”
She hesitates before asking her next question. “What did the note say?”
I dig it out of my pocket, unfolding the pink, scented stationary, complete with a glitter border. “I’m sorry, Elijah. I couldn’t do it.” Just like the first time I read the note, I’m somewhat alarmed by my reaction. There’s surprise. Confusion. But not the kind of pain I would expect from a man being stood up by his bride. “I didn’t want to end it this way, but it’s for the best.”
There’s only a flash of sympathy on Addison’s face, before she nods and leaves the room. A second later, Christmas powers down and I’m back to standing in the cool, hazy apartment in the muted afternoon light. Before and after. Full speed straight into stagnancy, just like my day leading up to the note being delivered mid-aisle. Bootsteps signal Addison’s return and I put the note back in my pocket.
She takes my arm as she passes through the living room. “Come on.”
“Now, hold on, Goose…”
We come to a halt halfway down the hallway. “Goose?”
“You greeted me with a bottle of the stuff.”
“Thank God you won’t be around long enough to make that stick.” With a decisive nod, she keeps going, leading me into a bedroom. It’s big, sparse and clean, not much more than a queen-sized bed and an antique bureau. Any suspicion I have that she’s going to invite me to join her in the bed fades with the wide berth she gives me. “If you don’t want to go home right away, you can stay here for the night. But I’m not cooking for you.”
A reprieve from the responsibilities that face me sounds like heaven. My father is probably dying to strategize a way to spin today’s events into getting votes. Reporters are more than likely already camped outside my…my what?
“I don’t have a choice,” I say slowly. “We were leaving for the Bahamas tonight. When we returned in two weeks, the house was going to be ready.”
“What house?” I rattle off an address and her jaw drops. “That corner mansion on the Battery? The one right across from the park?”
“That’s the one.” I lower myself to the bed and drop my head into my waiting hands, the reality of my situation finally registering. “The lease on my apartment ended and I moved out. Been staying at the Dewberry Hotel until the wedding, but I checked out of there this morning. Most of my things are in storage, waiting to be moved into the new house.”
Addison sits down on the bed next to me. “Do you have a friend you can call?”
“Yes, but…” I shake my head. “He has a family. I can’t bring a bunch of press down on their heads by showing up there. And they would show up. They always do.”
“Parents?”
I tuck my tongue into my cheek and don’t answer.
“I’ll get you some sheets so you can make the bed.” She rises and starts to leave the room, but stops with a hand on the frame. Without looking at me, she sighs and asks, “Grilled cheese and tomato soup sound okay?”
“Better than okay.”
“Don’t get used to it.”