Elena nods, her expression pained. “I understand,” she says. “Besides, it does feel like we have our own apartment within her mansion, which I guess, we technically do. Your mother doesn’t ever even drop by when you’re home, so I don’t think moving out would make much of a difference. I actually enjoy having dinner with her whenever you have to work late. I think I’d miss that a lot.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Jen always insisted on us moving out. She wanted an entire mansion of our own—just having one floor in my mother’s residence was never enough for her.
I glance at Elena, my heart stirring. She’s such an amazing woman, and here I am, driving to my grandfather in an effort to use her. I tighten my grip on my steering wheel, feeling conflicted.
My grandfather looks up when Elena and I walk in, and I frown at him. He’s on his knees on the floor, a large plant pot in front of him, his hands covered with soil.
“Come help me with this, Alec,” he barks out.
Elena and I walk over, and I sigh. My grandfather is always up to something. Why can’t the old man just rest every once in a while?
“Grandpa,” I say. “This is Elena Rousseau, my girlfriend. You’ve met her before, when she was much younger. Do you remember her?”
My grandfather barely glances up at Elena, and I tense. Jennifer always hated being rebuffed, but Elena merely smiles and drops to her knees. She sticks her hands into the soil and helps my grandfather repot his orchids.
“The leaves are too dark,” she says, a finger tracing the edge of the stem. “When they’re this dark, it means they aren’t getting enough sunlight. Orchids are a little moody,” she adds, laughing.
My grandfather pauses and looks up at her in surprise. He glances at her soil-stained hands and clothes, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. I bet he expected that she wouldn’t get her hands dirty, that she’d be too worried about her clothes.
Elena doesn’t even realize she’s being tested. Damn this old man. I bet he’s been expecting us since the very second we stepped into the car.
“You know about orchids?”
Elena nods. “They’re my mother’s favorite. We used to have so many in our house.”
She touches the edge of the white flowers, a sad smile on her face. The longing in her eyes breaks my heart.
“Orchids are a little peculiar,” she says. “They love the morning sun, but they want to be in the shade for the rest of the day. Moody little plants, I tell you.”
She glances around and points out a corner of the room. “That should be the perfect spot,” she tells my grandfather. “That angle should give them the morning sun they so love, but once the sun moves, they should be covered in shadows.”
Elena and I help my grandfather move the pot to the corner she pointed out, and my grandfather smiles.
“Come on,” he tells her. “I’ll show you my greenhouse.”
I groan inwardly, but Elena actually looks excited as she follows him.
“Oh my God,” Elena says, walking over to the vines on the wall. “Melons?”
She glances at my grandfather and shakes her head. “You sure do like a challenge, don’t you, Mr. Kennedy? These are so hard to grow!”
He smiles at her and tips his head toward the rest of his crops. “You can call me Grandpa,” he says, and my eyes widen. Elena has no idea what he’s just offered her, and she smiles cluelessly. Everyone is always trying to gain access to my grandfather, and he notoriously keeps everyone at a distance. Grandpa is reserved for his own grandchildren only, not their spouses, not any distant cousins.
He wraps his arm around Elena, showing her every single one of his vegetables, and my heart nearly stops when he starts to create a basket for Elena to take home. The only one that’s ever walked out of this greenhouse with any of his babies is my mother. Not even my uncles have managed it, neither have I, and I’ve tried many times.
“Oh, this is amazing,” Elena says, her eyes twinkling with delight. “I can just imagine how good this is going to taste. How about I make lunch for you soon, Grandpa?”
I frown. My grandfather doesn’t eat anything that isn’t made by his own cook. He doesn’t even go to restaurants. The only person whose food he’ll eat, other than his cook, is my mother’s.
“I’d love to,” he says, and I stare at him with raised brows—not that he notices, all his attention is on Elena.
I’ve brought Jennifer over a handful of times, and each time he acted like she didn’t exist. I wonder if it’s because she wasn’t the type of person he wanted for me, but then again, he let my mother marry my father.
I grab my phone and pull up Jen’s text messages. She’s been contacting me more and more frequently since rumors about Elena and me started to spread. I can’t figure her out. Does she want me now that she thinks she’s truly lost me? Or did she realize that being with Matthew isn’t all she thought it would be? I don’t know, and each day, I’m more tempted to text her back. I want answers.
“Tell me your favorite dishes,” Elena says, and I look up at her. She and my grandfather are lost in conversation. I stand back as the two of them talk, discussing recipes and ingredients. I can’t help but think about Jennifer. Would she ever even consider offering to cook for my grandfather? I don’t even recall her ever offering to cook for me . I shake my head and snap out of it.
“I look forward to it,” my grandfather says, his smile genuine.
Elena glances at her soil-stained hands and brushes them against each other, trying to get them clean. Grandpa points out the sink at the back of the greenhouse, and she walks off with a smile, promising to return soon.
I cross my arms and glance at my grandfather. I expected him to drop the sweet-old-man act the second she walked away, but instead, he’s still smiling, his eyes twinkling.
“She’s a nice girl, Alec. Very kind. I’m old, son. I’m old enough to know, to see how genuine she is. She’s the type of person I want raising my great-grandchildren. You’ve chosen well. Now don’t fuck it up. You let her slip away, and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
I nod, my gaze trailing towards Elena. “Yes,” I tell him. “I know.”
Chapter 24
E lena
I wake up with my head on Alexander’s bare chest and snuggle closer. He’s got one arm wrapped around me, and I bury my nose against his neck.
I smile at the memory of last night. He came to bed late last night, waking me up with countless kisses on my skin. The way touched me… he’s both rough and tender with me at the same time.
Most days he’s gone by the time I wake up, but every once in a while, I wake up in his arms. I love those moments right before he wakes up, those moments when he’ll hold me close, when he makes me feel cherished. Those moments make our marriage more bearable—they help me forget that what we have isn’t real.
“Your hair tickles.”
I freeze in his arms, my entire body tense. I push away from him, but he won’t let me go. Instead, he pulls me closer. I blink, turning my head just a little. He’s got his phone in his hand, scrolling through his emails leisurely, his other hand on my waist.