An Improper Ever After(61)

"Why?" I croak.

He gives me a couple of aspirins and waits until I down both with the disgusting water. "Traci says you drank until you passed out. Two glasses of wine."

I frown, but it makes my face hurt. Shaking my head is absolutely out of the question. "But I didn't. I had an iced tea and some ice cream."

He helps me lie down again and scoots over, pulling me into his arms. I sigh at how nice it feels to be held, and burrow my face into his neck, inhaling the soap and clean, freshly showered skin.

"Can we turn off the light?"

"There's no light to turn off. I also left the blinds down."

"Then why does it feel so bright in here?" I whisper.

He doesn't answer. Instead he strokes my scalp and back, gently massaging the tender tissues. It isn't often I'm the one being taken care of, and it makes me feel important … and loved.

"What happened after work? I thought you supposed to go to a bar, but you were at Traci's apartment."

"We were going to do happy hour, but something happened with the market, so most of the guys couldn't come. I didn't feel like staying and thought we should just reschedule, but Traci said we should go hang out at her place. Her roommate was out of town, so it made sense." I place a hand over his chest, feeling the slow, even movements of his ribcage expanding and contracting with every breath. It comforts me for some reason, and I keep talking. "I had this super-rich ice cream and iced tea. She had wine with hers. But then I started to feel bad and wasn't sure if I could drive home because I was dizzy."




 

 

"So that's why you texted me."

"I didn't." I know that for sure, although I have no clue how Elliot knew I was at Traci's. "Maybe Traci did." My memories are sort of unclear, like a scene playing out behind a thick layer of fog.

He goes still for a moment under my palm. "Remember anything else?"

"No. I just felt really bad, that's all. But I swear I didn't drink." I bite my lower lip. "You know why I don't … "

Elliot knows the whole sordid story. He is the only person-other than me and the boy who raped me-who knows what happened. Unlike my rapist, Elliot also knows what happened afterward-the unwanted pregnancy and the mess I made of my life.

"Shhh … " He kisses the crown of my head. "I know, beautiful. Don't think about it. It's way, way in the past."

I close my eyes. "Sometimes it feels like it was just moments ago."

His arms around me tighten. "Bad memories often seem that way, but don't give them so much power over you. You overcame a lot, and you're stronger for it." He caresses my cheeks, the touch like a butterfly fluttering over a flower. "You are so much stronger than I am. I didn't know what strength was until I met you."

"I let people push me around. Mr. Grayson …  Then you … " I flush then quickly add, "Not that I think badly of you."

"It's okay. I know I've been an asshole. But you didn't just give in because you were weak. You made your deal with Grayson because you had Nonny to protect. And you pushed back against me as much as you could. I just happened to be better armed, and winning for me was like taking candy from a baby-unfair bullying."

"Well I'm glad you did, because otherwise I would've never given us a chance. Despite what you think, you're not a bad sort, Elliot. Otherwise I would've never felt anything for you."

He sighs softly and kisses me on the forehead again. "Get some rest, Belle."

Some moments later I go slack, secure in his arms. Elliot does not relax.





Chapter Twenty-Three



Elliot

I leave my wife sleeping again and go into my home office. The idiots my client is employing have screwed up the model again. I have no idea how my client found them, but they have the logic of a two-year-old with a frog's ass for a brain.

My phone is silent at the moment, but it won't be for long. I turn my focus to the overall structure of the model. The analysts put in way too many damn exceptions, and of course if you do that, it doesn't work. They were supposed to look for a pattern that fits the greatest number of people, not predict how everyone on the platform behaves. People with their idiosyncrasies are, on the individual level, unpredictable. And just like you can't apply a general aggregate level behavior to an individual and have it match perfectly, you can't apply an individual behavior pattern to a group with millions. 

I suddenly sit back. Something hasn't been right-other than my wife being passed out after drinking-and it finally dawns on me. How the hell can Traci afford a place like that? There is no way Gavin pays her enough, and from what I understand, her parents lost almost everything in Belle's father's Ponzi scheme.