A Symptom of Love (GERI Labs #1)

33. Return Letter

33

Return Letter

T he first thing Eleanor does once they’re back from NYC is go visit Gordon. Antoine brings his mighty little Fiat to a stop as he drops her off, promising to shuttle Gillie and Alannah back to the apartment. He also promises to stick around for dinner, because Eleanor’s mom wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eleanor walks down the quiet street and takes the three front stairs to the house. Gordon is sitting on a rocking chair at the front porch, staring into space.

“Hello Gordon,” Eleanor tries a few times without success. She comes closer and pats him on the shoulder. He turns his head toward her but his eyes don’t show any sign of recognition.

“Gordon, it’s me, Ellie,” she says, bending over so their eyes are level. “I’m a friend of Aiden, your son.” He seems lost somewhere far away. “Let’s get you inside,” she offers, not sure whether he should be alone outside in his current state. It’s actually the first time since they’ve met that she’s seen him like this. Absent.

She holds out her hand to him and he takes it, stepping inside with her, still holding her hand as she gets him situated in the living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Eat?” she asks and he shakes his head. His gaze fixes itself on the blank TV screen, so she turns it on.

What are the chances he remembered to give Aiden her letter? Probably close to none—maybe involving Kim wouldn’t have been such a bad idea. Her heart squeezes at the thought of Aiden seeing his dad like this.

She takes a sit next to Gordon, determined to stick around until someone shows up. Then she picks up the pile of books and papers, checking to see if her letter is still there. A little envelope comes into view; it has her name written on top with Aiden’s slanted handwriting. Hands trembling, heart shuddering, she opens it slowly and unfolds the paper.

Dear Ellie,

Thank you for the letter. It was actually a very good letter, and if I get a chance I’ll be sure to let your English teacher know.

I am not mad at you, and there’s really nothing for you to apologize for. I am the one to blame here. I am the one who should be apologizing. I am infuriated with myself for giving in to my feelings. For giving in to this unbelievable pull between us, for losing control and losing myself in you. I would not regret any of our moments together if it weren’t for the consequences that you now have to face.

You see, being with you was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I don’t care about the investigation, or about what people say or think about me. I don’t give a shit about any of it. What I do care about are these horrible comments about you on social media and what this may do to your career. And for that I am deeply sorry.

I’m glad you decided to deal with the culprit for your symptoms. Thank you for walking me through your logic there. I might not have experienced nosebleeds, but I have been experiencing my fair share of Ellie-induced symptoms.

You were honest with me from the beginning. Honesty was the one thing you had asked for. Your one single rule. You had warned me you weren’t interested in a serious relationship but I kept hoping that with time you’d be willing to give us a try. Being your fake boyfriend was my way of showing you how good we could be together.

For me, none of it was fake. Everything I said about my feelings, about how I fell in love with you—it was all true. Ellie, from the second you fell into my lap at the airport I wanted you to be mine.

I am sorry for not coming out about us publicly after San Diego. I’m sorry for hesitating. For putting that distance between us. I thought making us public would scare you away. But I guess I was the one who scared you away. Scared you all the way back to your ex’s arms. And I’ll fucking regret my hesitation for the rest of my life.

I just can’t see how. How, despite everything you wrote in that letter, how you can just go back to being with him as if nothing ever happened between us. So, there is one more thing I’m mad about—that asshat of a drummer named Oren Hason.

Was it just me thinking that what we had for each other was this once in a lifetime kind of thing? Heck, I bet most people live their entire lives without ever experiencing something like that even once, so I guess at the very least—I should be grateful.

Ellie, I hope you can forgive me for letting my heart come between our science. And at the very least, I hope you’ll come back to the lab to finish our collaboration, your discoveries are too goddamn important to throw away. And just so you know—I do not accept your resignation.

Yours and only yours, always and forever,

Aiden

“Gordon,” Eleanor says, eyes welling up, still focused on those words that are getting more and more blurry by the second, “Where do you keep your papers? I need to write another letter.” She lifts her head, but all she can see is him. The man who’s been hunting her thoughts and her dreams.

Aiden is leaning against the kitchen doorframe, staring at her with his favorite-shade-of-blue eyes. His hair is disheveled, and a week-long stubble decorates his beautiful jaw. He looks sad, so sad. And tired, and hopeless. And lonely. And it breaks her heart.

Has he been there the whole time?

“No more letters,” he says and his voice awakens this entire volcano inside of her.

“It wasn’t just you,” she says when she finally gets her voice back and her ability to speak with actual words. “It is a once in a lifetime thing. But you see—” She gets up and takes a step toward him. She feels lightheaded, as if her legs will give out if she doesn’t get closer. “I don’t believe in regret. Life’s too short for that. And I think that due to my lack of literary talent, I failed to include an important detail in my letter. That photo with Oren? It’s a total mishap. It was taken about five years ago when we were still dating. If you look carefully you’ll see, it was taken at a beach in Tel Aviv. Which, by the way, I probably haven’t been too since.”

“Right.” Aiden gives her an incredulous look and pulls her by the arm into the kitchen. The touch of his hand brands her skin. “It looks pretty new to me,” he says, irritated. “Even the bathing suit you’re wearing in the photo is the same one you brought with you to San Diego… I’d recognize this cheeky thing—“ He pulls out his phone and shoves the image in her face.

“Well, it’s been a while since I’ve gone bathing suit shopping. Although got to look at the bright side—it still fits.”

“I’m serious Ellie, seeing you like this with him , it makes me so unbelievably jealous.”

“Wait, show me that again.” She grabs the phone off his hand as details of the image register, zooming in on that cheeky bikini bottom. “Looks like I have a built-in proof. Not that I need to prove myself to you,” she says and hands him back the phone.

“Don’t provoke me,” he warns in his commanding tone.

She looks around, making sure his dad is out of sight before she pulls on the side of her sweatpants, revealing just enough to show that little hideous butt tattoo. “If you don’t believe me—"

“What are you doing?” His eyes darken and the temperature in the room climbs to a dangerous zone all at once.

“Tell me what you see,” she demands.

“Ellie, stop it, my dad is in the next room for fuck’s sake.” He struggles to keep his eyes above her waist line.

“So you better look quickly, then. Let’s see if you can spot the difference.” She aligns his phone with her side. Tell me what you see.”

He clears his throat. “You’re wearing the same watch,” he says.

Seriously? Is that the first thing he notices?

“Okay,” she goes with it. “Which confirms this is my left side in this image, right? I know some people like to wear their watch on their right wrist, but nope, not me. What else?”

“Your butt tattoo is missing.”

“Correct!” she says victoriously. “Because it’s from before—before I got that stupid tattoo. Who thought this would actually serve as evidence one day! So here is your proof Professor Kowalski, this picture is at least five years old, if not more. But you know, I’m kind of mad that you even needed proof and wouldn’t take my word for it.”

Aiden looks distant and cold. Not the reaction she was hoping for. And since her heart won’t survive being on the breakup receiving end—not when it comes to Aiden—she offers him an easy out. “We aren’t supposed to speak to each other anyway according to the GERI lawyers’ stupid guidelines, so I’m gonna go. I appreciate your willingness to take me back into your lab, but I don’t think I can…” Be around him again without thinking what could have been. She pulls her waistband back up and leaves this shocked, sad, handsome man standing in the kitchen.

“It was good to see you Gordon.” She steps into the living room and kisses Aiden’s dad on the forehead. “I’ll come visit soon,” she promises. Gordon gives her an empty look and turns his gaze back to the TV.

She closes the front door behind her gently, so as not to alarm Gordon, despite the urge to slam it. It feels like a goodbye, although there’s nothing positive in it to justify the first part of this word. There must be a more suitable expression for situations like this—maybe badbye would be a more accurate depiction.

She hopes Aiden will come after her. Call her name. Grab her by the hand and pull her into him. Because that would make this entire world right again. She even stalls for a few minutes at the front steps leading back to the street.

But unlike any of the romantic movies Alannah has made her watch for the past few months, Aiden doesn’t come after her, doesn’t call her name. Guess it would take more than a badly written love letter and her tattoo evidence to get him back.

She walks down the steps and into the quiet street, not so much into sampling Gordon’s impressive mint crop anymore, mumbling some incoherent words to herself, because this whole thing really didn’t go as planned. Like most of her attempts to fix what she breaks.

A metallic taste in her mouth draws her already distraught attention as she reaches for her nose to realize it’s bleeding again.

That’s just great. Superb timing.

With one hand still against her nose, she quickly searches her bag for a tissue—which of course she doesn’t have at the moment when it’s needed the most.

Ugh…

This always happens at the worst possible time. At the airport—right when she fell into Aiden’s lap. In his office—when she found out who he was. Probably a few other times she can’t quite recall, mostly when Aiden was around. And now—when she’s so desperately trying to put a distance between them. As if her body decided to put its foot down. Or in this case—her nose.

A stupid symptom of love.

Blood starts gushing down her chin, staining her shirt. Attempting to get to the bus stop like this might alarm innocent passersby. And she could really use a tissue right now. So with the lack of any other sophisticated options, Eleanor turns around, takes those three stairs again and opens the front door.

“I’m not back to beg for forgiveness or any other terrible out-of-character ideas. Just need a tissue and I’ll be out of your hair,” she says without looking up.

But it doesn’t take more than a second before she feels his hands helping her into a chair. A tissue presses to her nose, like all the other times when her nose decided to bleed around this man. Aiden gently smooths the bangs off her forehead before bringing an ice pack to that same spot. He’s still angry, she can tell, but concern has now taken over his handsome face.

He’s taking care of her, again. Whatever words they’ve said or haven’t, whatever distance they’ve put between themselves, their bodies demand otherwise.

They sit in silence, waiting for the unwarranted situation to end.

“Looks like the bleeding stopped.” Aiden determines eventually. He removes the obstructions and hands her a glass of cold water. “Dehydration?” he half-asks, half-knows. “Did you drink enough today?”

“Possibly not.” She takes the cup and chugs it. Although really, drinking water right now is the last thing on her mind. “It’s been a long day. A long weekend. I just came back from New York. Went to see Oren.”

“I see.” Aiden tenses. The disappointment and disdain in his voice are unmistakable.

“No, it’s not what you think,” she says quickly.

“How do you know what I think?” he asks, as usual for him. Only this time he sounds impatient.

“I just do,” she says. Jealous-Aiden is kind of endearing. And since she has his full attention now, she continues with her confession. “It’s ridiculous, but I didn’t even have his current phone number. Alannah got us tickets to his concert in NYC—would you believe I actually paid money for that after years of free—“ She trails off but the sight of his tortured stare snaps her back to the main story. “Sorry, as I was beginning to say—I went there to ask him to fix this social media mess. And he promised he would. So… he doesn’t always keep his promises, obviously,” she points to herself. “But this time he will, I know he will. He felt really bad about it all. Just so you know, he had nothing to do with it.”

Aiden’s tense features relax just a tad. Jaw still clenched as he asks, “Why did you leave?”

“Leave?”

“Why did you just leave? And why did you quit?”

“Ah, that,” she stalls.

Yeah, why did she leave?

“Yes, that,” he says, still upset.

“It’s like a long list of things,” she starts, but for the life of her she can’t come up with a single good reason now. “First of all, we’re not supposed to communicate with each other while this goddamn investigation is ongoing.” She tries for a technical excuse that only partially aligns with the current schedule of events. “And also, because you wouldn’t take my word when I told you there was nothing going on between me and Oren. That was over a long time ago. You should have trusted me.” She stops for a breather. ”You were so mad. Still mad. Like you’ve changed your mind. And mostly because you didn’t stop me.”

“You wanted me to stop you?” he asks, surprised.

“Duh,” Eleanor says, nodding her head.

“I’m allowed to be angry,” he sighs, but something in his expression shifts as understanding and relief cross his features. “It doesn’t mean I love you any less.” His voice softens. “It’s not easy to see your girl in someone else’s arms. I got so fucking jealous when I saw that photo, I could barely breath. What was I supposed to think?”

His girl… How can two little words make her shattered heart whole again?

“You of all people, Professor Kowalski, jumping to conclusions based on partial data?” Eleanor means to sound serious, but she can feel the corners of her mouth starting to pull up. She tries to will her lips to attention without much success.

“Ellie, when it comes to you, I’m at a complete loss,” he admits, taking her hand, bringing their interlaced fingers close to his heart.

“Oh,” is the only thing she can muster at the moment.

Good to know that she’s not the only one suffering from uncontrollable heart palpitations when the two of them are in the same room.

“Now, what’s the second part?” he asks.

“What second part?”

“You said ‘first of all,’ which would normally imply there’s a second part to your speech.”

“Oh, the second part was that I freaked out. I… I wasn’t looking for a serious relationship and all of a sudden, I found myself falling. Deep. Too deep, and that scared the shit out of me. And you were hiding us, like not wanting people to know you’re with me. And I get that. I mean—I am weird.”

“You’re not weird,” he objects but she continues at full speed.

“I’m always late, forget myself when I’m focused, my head is always somewhere in the clouds, I always run and bump into stuff—so irresponsible. A real astronaut. Do you use that term in English too, outside of the obvious job assignment, or is it just in Hebrew? And there’s a lot more weird stuff you still don’t know about me. Like, I color outside the lines, possibly even outside the paper… Read books from the end, put together puzzles in the wrong order. Oh, actually you do know that already—”

“Are you kidding me? I love everything about you! Those things are definitely on the list.” He chuckles, smoothing a stray hair off her face. “You are perfect.”

“I am far, far—as in light years away—from being perfect.”

“You are perfect to me. Please don’t ever change. Well, maybe just be there in time for my lab meetings. And make sure to walk me through your complex thought process next time you get mad.” He smirks, taking her other hand now too. “Ellie, I know you said Oren had stopped choosing you. And he’s an asshole for breaking your heart. But I’m not Oren. I may play the drums sometimes, but I have no intention of running off with my rock band or choosing any other scenario without you in it, Ellie. I promise to choose you every single day of my life.”

“How can you promise something like that?”

”I already told you, the way I feel about you is irreversible. Permanent. There are no off-switches.”

“And I argued against it.”

“You did. But remember your sandwich philosophy? Just trust the magic,” he chuckles.

Go ahead, turn her own words back at her…

“And that still doesn’t resolve the issue that you didn’t want anyone at GERI—except Alannah—to know about me. I hate that you want to hide us. I mean so long as HR will keep their investigation confidential… And I hope people will forget about that stupid post.”

“Ellie, I want everyone to know about us. I want to shout it from the rooftops. I had asked you to be my real girlfriend. But you never said yes.”

“I thought my brain was hallucinating that. Let me remind you, I was still half passed-out from the fever and dehydration.”

“You weren’t hallucinating.” Aiden smiles, lowering his gaze to the floor in that special way of his rarely smiling self. As if embarrassed to let this glorious true feeling shine through.

“You’re just saying it now, to make a point.”

“Now who’s not taking whose word?” Aiden teases. And when she insists, he says, “Alright, but this is the last time we’re asking each other for proof.” He rolls up his sleeve, exposing his attractive left forearm. And a little tattoo. Identical to the one she has.

And it doesn’t look hideous anymore, not on Aiden. When did this ink-hating man get a tattoo?

“This tattoo,” Aiden continues, resting his palm on the left side of her sweatpants, where her own matching tattoo is. “This aleph initial, does not belong to Oren anymore.” He pulls her into his lap in one swift motion. “It belongs to me.”