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The Stardrop was crowded for a Tuesday afternoon. Harvey was seated at the bar having a quick lunch with Maru. The two of them were busy discussing the clinic. You could make out small snippets of conversation wafting over between lulls in noise.
Caroline and Jodi were seated in a booth, chatting over drinks, while Leah was perched at her usual corner table, sketchbook in hand. She had offered up a quiet nod and a smile as she walked in, selected a song from the jukebox, and sat alone, content to draw patrons as they went about their lives.
You were waiting for Elliott. He had walked you home last night, the two of you giggling and giddy; begging in that wonderfully over the top way of his to see you again.
“Lunch tomorrow?” You had said, throwing him a lifeline.
In his elation, Elliott had picked you up and spun you around right there on the dirt path in front of your home. It was all you could do to just laugh and throw your arms around him.
“Tomorrow it shall be, my muse. Noon? Gus? Some of those delightful crab cakes perhaps?”
The memory still warms you, much like the tea you ordered as you wait patiently for him to arrive.
You’re chatting idly with Gus when the saloon door next swings open. Expecting to see Elliott, you instead, tilt your head curiously at the woman who just walked in. She’s not from around here. Anyone with eyes can clearly see that. Dressed head to toe in an outfit you’re fairly certain costs more than your entire autumn harvest brought in, she walks up to the bar, heels clicking along the plank floor; a noise, you realize you hadn’t known could sound expensive until just now. Removing her sunglasses, she perches them atop her glossy blonde hair and wanders over to Gus – and by extension – you.
“Excuse me,” she begins in an impatient tone. You watch how she almost leans in and touches the bartop, before deciding against it. Instead, she stands with her hands raised to her chest busying themselves with removing her cream-coloured leather gloves one finger at a time. “I’ve come to collect my fiancée. Perhaps you know where he resides?”
She has a vaguely Parisian accent. Polished, poised, and capable of making the room go quiet as everyone in town leans in to the drama they know just walked through the door. You catch Leah, furiously drawing her from the corner of your eye.
“Might be able to help with that, ma’am,” Gus says casually as he continues drying cups with easy practised movements. “Who’s the lucky soul?”
“His name is Elliott March. I’ve been sent to collect him. It’s time for him to come home.”
The moment Elliott’s name is said, Gus’s eyes dart to you, reaching out a steadying hand as he watches the colour drain from your face. It feels like the world has gone sideways. Fiancée. You play the word over and over in your head. You know Elliott comes from old money: a fact he admitted to you early in your relationship as you were curled up in his bed.
Was it all an act? The thought comes unbidden, unwanted. Like ripples on a pond as a stone breaks the surface. You don’t know what to say, don’t know what to do. Simultaneously want to shout and be sick at the sight of her.
Instead, you focus on the warmth of the tea and the gentle squeeze of Gus’s large, callused hand on your arm before he turns his attention back to the impatient woman.
“I’m fairly certain his home is here in Pelican Town. What makes you so sure he’s eager to go back?” It’s said casually. Warily. For your benefit, even if she doesn’t yet realize she’s standing in the presence of his current… what exactly were you?
He told you he loved you. Called you his muse. But this woman was so damn sure of herself, and stunningly beautiful. It would be so easy to imagine the two of them arm in arm, with that quiet elegance they would naturally lend each other.
“Pelican Town was an experiment,” she says flippantly, clearly bothered she didn’t immediately get her way. You suspect she isn’t accustomed to being talked back to. “His family has told me he’s been seen with some local farmer. It’s time to remind him where he truly belongs and stop the play at domesticity. He was made for greater things.”
“I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for here, miss. They’re quite happy together.”
Gus doesn’t mean to, but his eyes travel back to you, checking in. The woman sees it though. Cold. Calculating, suddenly ignoring Gus and honing her gaze in on you. Somehow, you can tell she’s already found you lacking with just a glance.
“You’re the farmer, I suppose.” It’s less a question and more a bored statement of fact. She doesn’t seem threatened by you in the least. In fact, there’s a smug half-smile forming on her face, a soft but subtle chuckle leaving her lips in a single burst of mirth.
Yoba take it all to hell, she even sounds rich when she laughs.
“My goodness, what did he tell you, my dear? That he loves you?” She laughs coldly. “Has he composed a sonnet about your eyes yet? Called you his muse?”
She sees the way you flinch at that, her smile suddenly turning predatory. Like a shark sensing blood in the water. You’re sure she’s gearing up to say something more, but Elliott walks through the door, smile going from warm to incredulous as his eyes lock on her in shock.
The shock fades when he sees your face.
“Yvette. That’s enough.”
Even her name sounds lovely.
“Elliott! I was just telling your fun little fling here about our engagement,” she begins, voice as smooth as honey, her entire body language changing as he comes storming into the saloon headed straight for her.
It stings as you blink back tears, watch the exchange that you’re sure is about to happen. She’ll stand by his side, two halves making a whole.
Only, it never does.
Instead, he strides right past her, wrapping his arms around you.
“Are you alright my muse?”
It’s whispered for your ears only. Spoken with such care that you break, tears falling with hot embarrassment down your cheeks. Because for a split second, you had believed it. Let yourself be relegated once again to a past where no one had ever chosen you over someone else before.
He holds you close, ignoring the increasingly insistent huffs and scoffs behind him from Yvette.
“Pay her no mind. We were engaged to be married once. That much is unfortunately true, but I ended that relationship before moving here over a year ago and cannot fathom why she ever would have thought that status had changed.”
You take deep breaths. Elliott rubbing circles along your back until you’ve calmed. Then, and only then does he press a kiss to your temple and pull back.
“There you are,” he murmurs, running the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, wiping away the last of the tears. “Let me deal with this ghost and I shall be with you presently.”
He’s so commanding – a far cry from the soft, romantic Elliott you’ve come to know and love – as he turns to face his past.
“Was it my mother or brother who put this foolish notion into your head?” He cuts right to the chase. Yvette is still smiling, but it seems strained, more forced now.
“Is that any way to treat an old love?” She laughs, and you swear you could hear a pin drop with how quiet the saloon has gotten.
“You never held an ounce of love in your heart for me, only my name. I am going to assume that remains the same.” Elliott sounds tired, like he’s been through this song and dance many times before. Like the words are costing him more than he is now willing to give.
“I ran into your poor mother at a charity function and she described the life you ran off to cultivate. The break from the family and the legacy you left behind and I knew that I had to at least try and talk some sense into you.”
Her eyes flicker curiously back over at you, but Elliott steps in her way, blocking her view.
“This is between the two of us. I will not have you filling their head with fallacies of everything our relationship was not.”
“Oh, come now, Elliott,” she says, resting her hand on his arm for a moment before he calmly lifts it by the sleeve and removes it from his person. Yvette chooses to ignore that, and carries on. “You always were so dramatic. What we had was a good match.”
Elliott pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“I did not merely want a good match, Yvette. I wanted love. Someone to share my hopes and dreams with. Someone who care enough to love and inspire me back.”
You watch as she rolls her eyes and laughs at him. “Elliott, you were always such a romantic fool. Love like that isn’t real.”
You’ve had enough. “Yes, it is,” you say. Surprised that you’ve spoken up, let alone directed your comment at her. “I love him exactly like that.”
Yvette’s eyes narrow, while Elliott’s whole face softens.
“And I, you, my muse.” Elliott reaffirms.
“Elliott, can you not see she’s using you? Clearly, she saw a meal ticket to a better life and has attached herself to your person because of the name.”
“Yvette, she knew nothing of who I was when we met. Didn’t know a thing of my family until long after we had fallen in love,” he says, reaching for your hand, gently urging you closer. “Unlike some people.”
Yvette glares at Elliott, cheeks going flush with anger. “And when you burn through the last of that trust of yours. When you still haven’t published anything and don’t have a cent to your name, she’ll leave you.”
“No, I won’t.” you say instantly. “He’ll always have a place with me. That will never change.”
You see the way Elliott’s eyes light up at that, so you go on, just to drive the point home.
“Besides. He’s not going to fail. He will publish. There’s no doubt in my mind. It’s a shame you hadn’t realized that when you had his heart… though, I suppose I should thank you for not cherishing it, because I don’t know where I would be without him.”
“Hell YEAH, she just said that!”
Three pairs of eyes land on a red-faced Leah all at the same time. “What? It’s not like that woman is being subtle or anything. She really thought she was going to come in here and, what? Fetch Elliott like a stray dog?” Leah snorts with laughter. “Like that would have ever happened.”
She seems to have set off a chain reaction, because soon you notice Caroline and Jodi giggling behind their hands, Harvey looks completely flustered as Maru hoots loudly, picking up Leah’s sentiment. “That was most improbable of her. Assumptions should always be backed concrete evidence, not confidence.”
Even Gus is chuckling softly, shaking his head at the absurdity of the situation. “Told you they were happy together, miss.” Is all he says.
“Your mother will be heartbroken,” she tries one last tactic, but Elliott just shakes his head.
“You and I both know mother is only angry because she no longer has me under her thumb. Goodbye, Yvette. I do hope you find what you are looking for someday, but it will not be with me.” He says, completely shutting her out with his body language. Turning to give you his complete, undivided attention.
“Now, my muse. I believe I owe you a lunch date.” He says warmly, turning to Gus. “If you don’t mind, we’ll be switching seats to the booth in the far corner.”
“Of course,” Gus smiles. “Emily will be by shortly to take your orders.”
The two of you walk away, listening as Gus turns to the woman in host mode. “Would you like anything for the road? We can make most of our meals to-go. Though, I wouldn’t recommend travel soup. Not if you’re driving.”
And that’s that.
Everyone resumes what they were doing before that chaos rolled in, completely on your side. All that remains out of a place is a cross, petulant Yvette, who turns her nose up at Gus and storms out of the Stardrop with her head held high. She practically elbows Shane in the ribs at the door, as he jumps out of the way in confusion.
“Fuck was up her ass?” He says to Gus, leaning against the bar.
“Came looking for something she was never going to find.” Is all he says, handing him a drink and going back to his cleaning.
It’s cryptic, you both can tell Shane is confused, but in the end he just shrugs, takes a pint and heads to his usual perch by the fireplace. Life resumes as normal, but with a warmth pooling in your chest. A feeling of seeing and being seen that goes right down to your core as Elliott takes your hand in his and leans in for a kiss.
“She never held a candle to the spell you’ve cast over me, my heart. Never forget that.”
And just like that, old hurts are banished like ghosts to the past where they belong.