I fake a smile. “After the day I’ve had today, who knows?”
“Did I tell you, I love my present,” he whispers as he kisses me.
“About a million times already.”
I took a photo of Elliot outside near his lake the other morning. It’s from behind, he’s in a suit, and staring out over his enchanted estate. The ducks are gathered around his feet and the mist is rolling over the hills. It’s a beautiful shot and I had it framed for him.
What do you get the man who has everything? Now I know.
Sentiment.
He loves it because it’s sentimental. It means something to him, just like he means something to me.
Being here in New York with his family has given me a little more insight into the mercurial man. He’s not just difficult with me, he’s difficult with everyone.
And I can’t tell you how good that feels to know.
It’s not me, it was never me, it’s him.
We park the car and walk up to the front door; Elliot knocks as I hold my breath.
Tristan opens the door in a rush. “Hello.” He smiles as he looks at us in turn, bends and kisses me on the cheek. “Come in.”
Elliot takes my hand and we walk into a large living area, a hive of activity.
“This is Emily,” Tristan introduces me, “Jameson’s wife, and this is their son, James.”
“Hello.” The little boy looks to be about three. He has dark hair and blue eyes like his father.
“Hi.” Emily smiles, leans in, and kisses my cheek. “Lovely to meet you.” She’s heavily pregnant. “Our daughter Imogen is around here somewhere.” She smiles. “She’s twenty-three months old.”
“Oh, you have your hands full.”
“As if dealing with Jim isn’t enough.” Tristan smiles. “And this is my wife, Claire.”
“Hi.” Claire smiles; she isn’t at all what I expected. Naturally pretty, with dark hair.
He takes a baby dressed in pink from her. “This is Poppy and we have a two-year-old daughter around here somewhere, her name is Summer.”
A bunch of kids go running and screaming through the house.
“That will be her,” he says. “Noisiest tiny human you ever met.”
I giggle. “Hello.”
“Boys,” he calls. “Come here please.”
I look up to see two teenagers and a small boy walking over.
“These are my sons, Fletcher, Harrison, and Patrick.”
“Hello.” They all shake my hand politely. “How do you do?”
“Come out and join the party.” Tristan smiles as he holds his hand out.
I look into the back living-room area to see everyone chatting and laughing, completely relaxed, and I let out a sigh of relief.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
If heaven was a week, this would be it.
I put my head on Elliot’s chest as we ride up to his apartment in the elevator, his strong arm around me, and I feel completely safe and protected.
We’ve danced and laughed, made love and fucked.
Spent time with his wonderful family, and to say that Elliot Miles has romanced me around New York is the understatement of the year.
In a few days we go home to London, and I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t want to.