Page 70 of Sizzle

Huh?

“I mean, that sounds like something he would say,” I say slowly, turning onto her street. “But I would have thought after last night…”

“Yeah, me too. But one of the other cooks caught us kissing in the stock room—”

“Really?” The idea of Anna and Elliot sneaking around at work turns me on to an embarrassing degree but now is clearly not the time to ask for details.

“Bertie went and told everybody else in the damn restaurant, and Elliot has the nerve to act like it’s my fault when he’s the one who kissed me in the first place!”

I want to comfort her, to tell her Elliot’s probably overreacting because last night shook his world up too, but what can I say? He’s a grown ass man; he can speak for himself. And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it didn’t mean as much to him.

Yeah. Right.

The idea of them sneaking around at work distracts me enough that we’re pulling up to her dad’s house before it occurs to me to ask.

“Wait, if your dad kicked you out, what are we doing here? And where are you staying?” By the looks of the place, nobody’s home.

“I need to pack a bag,” she says, avoiding my other question.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

She looks at me, pulling her coat tight around her body.

“Are you offering?”

I should. I want to. But a not-so-small part of me feels like offering to let her stay with me is somehow disloyal to Elliot, so I hesitate.

“Did you tell Elliot?”

“Yes.”

“Did he ask you to stay with him?” What the hell am I playing at? This isn’t two against one.

If anything, it’s me trying to put the two together.

Joelle snorts. “Sure he did. Right around the time he told me it was my fault we got busted today.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it. So yes, he offered. I declined.” She looks at me evenly. “Does it matter?”

It doesn’t. I want to help her. I want to take care of her. But Elliot should be the one. They belong together, and he knows it. I know he knows it. I think maybe even she might know it, if he doesn’t fuck it all up.

I haven’t answered Joelle’s question, and the look on her face tells me I’m too late. She’s heard all she’ll listen to from me.

“Stay with me, then. I’ll wait for you while you pack. I have a guest room,” I say, but she’s already holding up her hand, disgust written all over her face.

“Forget it, Alex.” She shoves the door open, powdery snow swirling in around her. “Thanks for the ride.”

The door slams shut behind her.

21

Joelle

Connie comes back into the living room, shaking a bottle at me.

“This one okay?”