Two days pass, and Colton and I spend every hour working hard, sprinkling in dares to keep us energized. Though as of yesterday, the dares have morphed into things like ‘I dare you . . . to take a five-minute break’ because we’ve been working nonstop. We did at least kiss like teenagers on a make-out date for the five minutes, but going further had to wait as the timer dinged and we got back to the grind. And not the good kind. Well, work’s good, but not the sexy kind of grinding.
The phone calls to Gary and Debra back home are progressions of Colton’s plans but nothing new. Just bullet points on a list checked off. Necessary but not a huge victory.
We haven’t heard from Edwin or Mary, and Eddie apparently has gone on a bender with Ava, according to Nan and Lizzie, who stopped by for quick spot of tea yesterday. It was a much more pleasant experience than tea with Mary and her cronies. And Lizzie also joyfully reported that Will hasn’t so much as looked her way since she nailed him.
At this point, I’ve been in London for several days and have barely seen beyond the hotel windows. It looks like a beautiful city, and I would love to see more of Colton’s haunts, but with the clock ticking, there’s just no time.
There’s one person in my life who has no concept of time, though, or at least not as it applies to her. She’s all-access, all the time.
Tiffany.
“Oh, my gosh, girl! It is so good to hear your voice!” I scream it, even though she can see me through our laptop screens. The time difference means I’m eating lunch and she’s settling down in my bed. “Show me Sophie so I can talk to her.”
Tiffany raises her brow but does as I say, shoving her screen in front of a sleeping Sophie. “Hey, baby girl. Is Auntie Tiffany taking good care of you? I’ll be home soon for snuggles and treats.”
And yes, it’s all in baby talk. There’s no shame between Sophie and me.
Sophie raises her head from her paws and walks over to plop in Tiffany’s lap before lying right back down. “She just turned her back on me! Laid in your lap and gave me her back. Grr, I think you stole my cat, Tiff. Hope she gets along with Kevin because when I get home, she’ll probably want to go with you.”
I’m salty about it. I’ve raised Sophie since she was just a tiny kitten, but the fickle beast is picking her current food-giver over me.
“Sorry!” Tiffany’s apology doesn’t sound sincere at all, and she’s scratching behind Sophie’s ear. Sophie’s tongue lolls out, proving her switcheroo loyalty. In baby talk of her own, she whispers to Sophie, “I’m not sorry at all, Miss Sophie-Tophie-Pants.”
“I can hear you. And what did you call my cat?”
“That’s between me and your pussy. Wait . . . I didn’t mean it like that.” Her brows raise, waiting for me to break, which I do.
I laugh hard, and Tiffany does too. And it feels like there’s no time difference, no mileage difference between us. We’re the same as we always have been.
Except I’m not, and she knows it.
“All right, bitch, tell me all about that BBC. How many times, how many ways, and have you gotten Big Ben tattooed on your ass yet?” Her smirk feels like home.
“No tattoos. Been too busy to get out and find a decent artist.” I’m not getting a tattoo, no way, no how, but if I told her that, it’d be a dare faster than Tiffany could say ‘dare you’. “Colton and I have been working so hard on this deal. There’s a lot of research and paperwork to fill out, and he’s gone to meet with a council member this afternoon to get a feel for the process of rezoning the property.”
Tiffany rolls her hand at the wrist, telling me to get on with it. “That’s not what I’m asking and you damn well know it. Work, work, work, yada, yada, yada. Tell me about you . . . and him . . . personally. Slowly, with lots and lots of details.”
I bite my lip, thinking of the promise I made. I won’t say anything about his secrets, but I can tell the parts of it that aren’t something Colton wants held quiet.
“I met his family. He introduced me as his girlfriend.”
Boom. Mic drop.
“What?” Tiffany screeches so loudly that even Sophie looks pissed, getting up and hopping out of frame.
I nod. “I know. I haven’t said much, but there’s something between us. I mean, other than just sex.”
The admission feels significant. He brought me into his world, and I’m bringing him into mine. Not just for friendly threats and casual sex, but telling Tiffany this is serious is step one in Colton being mine on my side of the globe. And in me being his.
“Are you okay with that? I mean, where’s your head? Where’s your heart? This isn’t just because of the BBC, is it?” Tiffany’s face is close to the camera, searching mine pixel by pixel as if she can read my mind through the screen.
“More than okay. There’s a lot you don’t know about him, a lot I’m still learning too. But this is . . . something. He’s more than just the big, bad Wolfe.”
“And you’re sure this isn’t about the HQ2 thing, about getting one over on Daddy?”
I make a sour face. “Ugh, puh-lease stop with the Daddy shit right now. And no . . . I mean, yeah, I’m sure it’s not about that. We don’t even talk about that, just us and the London proposal.”
Tiffany nibbles her lip. “And after the site is chosen? What if it’s London? What if it’s Tennessee? Then what?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far yet. Still flying by the seat of my pants here like usual, you know?”
But she brings up a good point. If we succeed, Colton will be moving to London, and Dad and Tiffany—my family—will be in the States. If Dad succeeds, he’ll be in Tennessee, and Tiffany and Colton will be in California. Or maybe they’ll all scatter—London, Tennessee, and California.
And where will I land?
“I feel like this might be my fault a bit. I told you to be reckless, be bold, and I know that’s like waving a red cape in front of a bull. Toro, Toro.” She flips the blanket around a bit, miming a cape, though she’s no matador. And my blanket’s not even red. It’s yellow. “You’re already halfway to reckless anyway, but this might be a bit much, even for you.”
She might be right. But I can’t think about that right now. One thing at a time, that single touch to the surface of the puddle that is my life, and then I can see where the ripples lead me.
“It’s gonna be fine, Tiff. This isn’t your fault, but that means you also don’t get credit either when it all goes right.”
“The hell I don’t,” she balks. “If this goes to shit, that’s on you. But if you end up becoming Mrs. Elle Wolfe, I want a fucking dedication credit in the wedding program for bringing you two together.”
“You are crazy, girl. I love you.”
“Love you too. Miss you like crazy, though. Too bad Sophie doesn’t.”
I stick my tongue out at her and hang up, laughing but feeling something deep and questioning start to take root. I really do tend to just put one foot in front of the other, trusting that I’ll end up somewhere amazing that’s right where I was meant to be. But this situation calls for a bit more finesse than that and a hell of a lot more planning and direction.
My next call isn’t nearly as easy, and Tiffany’s existential questions about what I’m doing were anything but straightforward.
“Hey, Dad! How’s Memphis?”
“Elle, baby girl! Hell, I’ve been missing you. How are you?” He doesn’t answer my question, but I don’t think he’s avoiding it, rather just doing his dad thing . . . focusing on me.
“I’m good. London is beautiful.” What little I’ve seen, that’s true. “Though Colton and I have been working hard so I haven’t seen much.”
“How is the proposal coming?” Dad’s voice is tight, like he’s fighting the words. But is he trying to hold them back or not wanting to seem too worried about our progress? I’m not sure.
“Dad, I don’t think we should talk about that. You do you, and I’m doing me. I want to make sure that whatever happens, we’re good after this.”
He sighs, looking off screen at something in his hotel room. “I know, baby girl. I’m stuck here because I truly want this for myself, but there’s that dad side of me that wants to see you succeed too. I hate that we can’t have both. I don’t want you speaking out of turn, but this is what we do . . . talk about our days, what’s happening, funny stories. And I know the proposal is what you’re doing.”
He throws his hands in the air like he doesn’t know what to do with them, or me, or this whole mess. “I don’t want to ignore the hard work you’re putting in, but I don’t know how to ask about you without it seeming like I’m hitting you up for insider trading secrets on Wolfe. I just . . . I’m trying, baby girl. And not doing too good of a job of it.”
“Dad . . .” I laugh, so relieved I can feel it down to my toes. And though I’m not usually a crier, there’s a bit of a sting behind my eyes because I can see the honesty in his eyes, even through the screen.
He’s not over it, but he’s making some peace with my working with Colton and being in London. I was right. Standing up to him hurt like hell, but I think it was the only way to get us to a new level.
“Help an old man out. What am I supposed to say here?”
“I think you just said it. We’re fine, Dad. And I am doing well, learning a lot, no matter what happens.”
Dad’s teasing banter is back with the awkwardness dissipating. “Oh, I know what’s happening there. Don’t be disappointed, baby girl, but I’m winning this race. Memphis all the way!”
“Team London, old man!”
It sounds like we’re cheering on our favorite sports team, not cheering for a corporate decision that’s going to determine so much of our lives in the next few years. But I’m glad to have my dad back, for us to be back to some semblance of normalcy.
I realize just how special that is after spending time with Colton’s family. Dad didn’t apologize for going a bit caveman and trying to keep me from going on this trip, but he doesn’t need to. I know where that’s coming from, and it’s a place of love. I can feel his heart, can hear it in his hopes that I somehow succeed even if that’ll kill his own success.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, baby girl. Did I tell you about the cute little apartment complex I found down the street from the new headquarters? It’ll be perfect for you when we move here.”
I roll my eyes and can’t help but laugh. My dad’s the best, even at his worst.
