Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hazel
Nostalgia is a file that removes the rough edges from the good old days. ― Doug Larson
Is it Saturday yet?
Nope, it’s still Thursday. I sigh heavily, moving the loose strands of hair floating around my face. It’s been a long week. Like every Thursday, I send my reports to my grandfather. Tomorrow morning, he’ll call to discuss them and implement any changes he might consider necessary. I miss having breakfast with him on Fridays and planning my weekends around him.
Why did I think I wouldn’t miss my family when I moved?
And with the renovations in Santa Cruz, I don’t know if I’ll be going to visit them soon.
My phone buzzes just as I’m searching for the updates from North Bay Construction.
Elliot: How’s work?
My heart clenches as I read his text. A couple of weeks ago, he sent an email with the letter I mailed along with the divorce papers. I stared at that email for hours, chewing my lip and working through the emotional punch he served me. Elliot wants to try again. The letter hit me down to my very core. I’m still shaking with sadness and anxiety.
I remember writing it after the one he sent begging me not to leave him. I close my eyes for a second, gathering my strength to keep myself afloat. Those were dark days, but he’s right. What we had was unique. Is our love still alive? Do I want to try?
Don’t overthink it.
Hazel: It’s been a busy week.
Elliot: Do you want to go for lunch?
My stomach growls, complaining about the lack of nourishment. I pat my tummy.
Hazel: Yes.
Elliot: Then come downstairs. Your carriage awaits for you, my lady.
Hazel: Give me one second. I’ll be there in a few.
Locking my computer, I grab my purse and drag my jacket along. I rush through the hallways and jump into the elevator that takes me down to the main floor. When I reach the door, I see him leaning against his old truck. This old version of Elliot McFee makes some parts of my body get too excited just with the view—the stretched over the chest T-shirt, those worn-out jeans hugging his muscular legs, and that stubble peppered along his strong jaw.
“You still have her?” For a moment, I’m transported back to high school.
“Dad said it would be the only car he’d buy for me,” he answers, opening the passenger door. “I have a newer truck, but I like to use this one from time to time. She holds a lot of memories I want to keep forever.”
“The memories,” I whisper.
He cocks his head to the side. I chew my lip because he’s right. If this car could talk…
At ten o’clock, my shift at the diner ended. I rushed to the employee room to clock out and change my blouse and my shoes. Then I made my way to Elliot. He leaned against his new black truck. He held a lilac rose and wore his cocky smile. I waved at him, exiting the diner and speeding toward him. He opened his arms, and I jumped into them.
“We are like a cheesy teenage couple from those books you love,” he murmured in my ear, kissing my neck and finally capturing my lips. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
I kissed his lips one more time. “How’s school?”
He opened the door of his truck and holds the rose in one hand and a Ghirardelli bag in the other. “I went to San Fran today.”
My heart skipped a few times. “I might like you, McFee.”
“You better. I missed you like crazy last night.”
“Well, I have all night to make it up to you.”
I opened the bag of chocolates, but before I ate them, I asked, “So where are you taking me?”
“Bed.” He caressed my thigh, and my heart thumped hard. “But we can go to our secret place. My father is home, and he might not let me stay past midnight.”
“Hazel, where do you want to go?”
Not to bed or to the bowling alley parking lot. That was a shitty “secret place.” There wasn’t anything mysterious about it. None, nada. We had sex in a parking lot.
“Any preferences?” he continues asking.
I rub my eye with the heel of my hand, pretending to clear the dust. Not thinking about sex. “I’m not familiar with the area. What do you recommend?” I shake off the R-rated images that almost played inside my head.
