Love Unwritten (Lakefront Billionaires, 2)

It took me only a few seconds to put a name to the man who cornered Ellie in the back hallway near the Last Call bathrooms. I might not be up-to-date on tabloid headlines or celebrity gossip, but everyone with internet access knows about this particular musician’s undesirable reputation.

Drugs. Women. Anger issues and drunken rampages.

Ellie is the last person Cole Griffin should be dragging into his destructive spiral, and I plan on reminding her of just that once he disappears through the emergency exit door.

She turns to head toward the main hallway that leads back to the bar, but stops midstride when I speak.

“You can’t seriously be thinking of going on a coffee date with him?” is the first thing I say.

The very first—and very wrong—thing to say.

I can’t help it, though. I’m a suspicious person by default, so even though Cole said he isn’t interested in Ellie, I don’t believe him, especially with the few articles I’ve seen making their rounds.

She spins around. “I’m not thinking about it. I am doing it.”

“He’s bad news.”

“I’m not the kind of person who believes everything that’s in the media.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Why?”

“He’s a cheater.”

She tucks her arms against her chest. “So? Not that it’s any of your business, but I plan on grabbing coffee, not falling into bed with him.”

An unwelcome image of the two of them doing just that makes my stomach churn. I do my best to banish the thought, but not before I picture Ellie smiling up at him, blushing the same way she did a few minutes ago when he smiled at her.

Being jealous of Ellie’s relationship with my son is one thing, but feeling that same burning sensation in my gut at the idea of her with another man?

Concerning, to say the least.

I’m supposed to be thinking about Ellie as Nico’s nanny, not a single woman who has every right to smile, blush, and laugh at another man.

I wipe my face with a frustrated huff.

“What do you really want to talk about, Rafael?” Ellie’s tone snaps me out of my funk.

“I need you.” The comment slips out before I have a chance to consider how it sounds.

Fuck.

Uncertainty flickers in her eyes. “You need me?”

“Nico and I,” I amend. “If I thought things were bad between us before, nothing compares to the way he is now that you’re gone.”

Her shield of bravado drops. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too. For a few things actually.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Your comment earlier got me thinking.”

“What comment?”

“About not valuing you or your time.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t say anything else, so I take it as a sign to continue.

“It made me realize that you’ve never complained about your job. Not even when I threw last-minute plans at you or acted like a dick when you didn’t deserve it.”

She makes a half-snort, half-scoff sound, and I shoot her a look, but keep going.

“Even though I was upset about the secret and Nico’s accident, I should have treated you better after everything you’ve done for my family. You helped bring my son back, and for that, you deserved far more than what I did… You deserved a second chance.”

She blinks rapidly, although it doesn’t erase the mistiness in her eyes. “Thanks. I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”ConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”

She glances away and wipes at the corner of her eye.

“Things aren’t the same without you,” I say earnestly.

She turns to face me again.

“He’s not the same,” I add.

Her reply is nothing but a long exhale. “That makes me feel awful.” She focuses on an invisible point behind me. “But…”

I’ve received enough brush-offs in my life to recognize the first sign. “I’m willing to do anything to bring you back. A raise. An extra day off every week. Name it and it’s yours.”

“My salary or PTO was never an issue, and you know it.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Something that was broken between us.”

“What?” I ask.

“Trust.”

My shoulders tense. “I’m going to need time.”

She exhales. “I’m not only talking about you.”

I stare at her in confusion.

Her eyes fall to the floor, as if looking me in the face proves too difficult of a task. “You made it clear that I’m disposable at a moment’s notice, and I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I wouldn’t let someone else make me feel that way again.”

My teeth smash together. “I can’t go back and change the way I reacted.”

“I know, and as much as I hate to admit it, you were right to fire me. If Nico’s accident proved anything, it’s that I’m grossly underqualified to be his nanny.” Her voice shakes.

“That’s bullshit.”

She stares at me with wide eyes.

“We went through seven nannies before you. All of them were beyond qualified for the job, yet none of them brought my kid back like you did.”

Her chin wobbles. “I was doing my job.”

“No. You were doing so much more than that.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to see Nico change back into the quiet boy who didn’t laugh, smile, or play music. God, it would destroy me to see him like that all over again. So I’m pleading—hell, I’m even willing to beg—if it convinces you to come back.”

Uncomfortable silence follows, and my anxiety spikes. Her hardened gaze seems to soften, which gives me some hope about our situation.

“You don’t need to do that,” she says with a soft voice.

“I’m desperate, Eleanor.” My voice is strained.

She gives me a little shove, and I lose my footing, not because of her strength but because of the small laugh she lets out. “Desperate enough to stop calling me by my full name? Because although I love her, it reminds me of my grandmother.”

I scoff, pretending the warmth in my chest is a result of my nerves rather than a reaction to her touch. “Anything but that.”

At first, I did it solely to annoy her, but then I found myself enjoying how flustered she got each time I called her by her given name. She always did this cute little eye roll—

Cute?

Shit. Not cute.

Funny. A funny eye roll.

“Figures,” she mutters. “Well, this little chat was great and all…”

“Okay. I’ll stop calling you Eleanor.”

She rocks back on her sneakers. “I should say no…”

“But you won’t because we need you.”

“Fine. I’ll agree, but only if you repeat that again while begging on your knees.”

A short but deep laugh bursts out of me, and it surprises us both.

“Oh my God.”

I lift my palm in the air. “Don’t—”

“You laughed!” Her smile cuts through the icy outer layer of my cold heart. I’ve spent months wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of Ellie’s unbridled happiness, and it’s so much better than I expected.

But the last thing we need is me getting all soft-hearted over a single smile, no matter how much I loved it. So I look up at the ceiling and pray for help.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh since high school.” She seems to speak to herself.

The comment surprises me. “Keeping tabs on me since back then, huh?”

Her cheeks turn pink. “No.”

My body buzzes from the thought. “Are you sure about that?”

“You know, not everyone at Wisteria High was obsessed with you.” Her cheeks morph from a rosy hue to crimson.

“It’s okay if you had a crush on me.” According to Dahlia and Lily, most of the school did.

“You weren’t my type.”

“I was everyone’s type,” I tease, loving the way a flush spreads to her neck.

“First, you laughed, and now you’re making jokes? Who are you and what have you done with the old Rafael?”

I don’t know, but I have a feeling that Ellie might push me into finding out who the new me is, whether I want to or not.