Page 162 of Blue Gold

“Please, Elliot, I’m trying to make an impression.” Mathilde chuckled, walking back to the table, this time serving Elliot a bowl of soup.

“Bon appétit, mon chéri.” She caressed his cheek, then went to sit in her own chair. “The only thing I regret is that your brother isn’t here to eat with us,” she said, placing a napkin over her lap.

As she went on to speak a little bit about her younger son, Aloïs, my eyes darted to Elliot. Sitting quietly, with the spoon already in his hand, he stared at the bowl of soup. I couldn’t say I knew what was going on in his head, but on the eight-hour flight here, and during the last few days, I’d read several books to learn more. While being far from an expert, reading gave me a perspective on what an eating disorder even meant, Anorexia specifically. It also gave me an idea of how I should approach Elliot. Certainly, not the way I had thus far. It was no wonder he ran away, considering I did everything wrong.

Without making a thing out of it and with Mathilde still speaking, I placed my hand on Elliot’s thigh and gave him a slight squeeze. He looked at me immediately, and when our eyes met, I smiled at him, letting him know I was right here and that he had nothing to be scared of. To my great joy, Elliot picked up his spoon and filled it with soup. There was a moment of hesitation before he took the bite, but I didn’t want to interrupt and instead sat quietly and waited, my heart filling with pride after he did. I kept my hand on his thigh as he took another small bite, followed by another, and then went back to eat myself, giving him the space to finish his own food. Which he did.

I knew this took a lot out of him, and that was why I couldn’t have been prouder. In many similar cases to Elliot’s, people refused to receive help, and at first, it seemed the same applied to him. But now, only a few hours since we’d reunited, I’d noticed the change in him and the signs that he was willing to get help. And although one bowl of soup wasn’t enough to cure him, it was the beginning of his recovery, because every journey starts with the first step, as small as it might be.

If two years ago someone were to tell me that now I’d be in Provence, France, sitting around the table and sharing a meal with the love of my life and his lovely mother, I would think that person needed to commit themselves somewhere. But here I was, finally in the right place. I’d lived a life that wasn’t mine for so long that I thought there was no other way. Apparently, I was wrong, and all I needed was one push at the right time to start seeing things differently.

“So, Daniel, what do you do?” Mathilde asked as she served me a delicious-looking quiche.

“He’s a lawyer, Maman,” Elliot answered proudly. “He runs his family company.”

“Well, not anymore, I’m not,” I corrected him and in return received a shocked look.

“What?” Elliot’s worry was vivid through his voice.

“A lot has happened this last week,” I told him before looking back at Mathilde. “You see, I used to work for my father, but due to recent developments, including his narrow-minded view and my falling for your wonderful son, we’ve decided to part ways. For good.”

“Daniel.”

The distress on Elliot’s face was clear, and I couldn’t help but smile at him being this cute, worrying over me. “It really is for the better,” I reassured him, poking his cheek.

“Are you sure?”

I then thought back on the expression Father had in his office, how shocked Mother was, and how bewildered my siblings seemed. Most importantly, I remembered the sense of liberation I experienced after leaving them all behind.

A big smile spread across my face.

“One hundred percent.”

50

DANIEL

Before leaving for the airport this morning, I had the brief misfortune of meeting Elliot’s brother, who, I might admit, was a dick. Sure, he was a kid, but I didn’t care. He’s a fucking asshole, and hopefully for him, he’d grow out of it.

Seeing where Elliot grew up, meeting his mom, and spending a night in his childhood room was incredible. I wish we could have spent more time there, but currently, getting Elliot the help he needed was a higher priority. Still, I had no doubt this visit was a first out of many. Our plane hadn’t even taken off yet, and I was already eager to come back, and I was sure Elliot felt the same.

Speaking of Elliot, he’d seemed hesitant ever since we left home, and now, sitting in the seat next to me while we waited for takeoff, he was biting on the tips of his nails, shaking like a leaf.

“Would you like another drink?” the flight attendant asked with a smile, her eyes moving from Elliot to me. She probably thought he was scared of flying, but knowing the truth, this wasn’t the case, nor something a glass of scotch could solve.

I kindly refused, and after she left, I turned to Elliot.

“What’s going on in here?” I asked, tapping the side of his head.

“Are you sure Vito isn’t mad?” The words were out of his mouth in a heartbeat as he put his iPod aside.

My lips formed a small smile. “The answer hasn’t changed since you asked me that an hour ago.”

He sighed. “I know, I’m just⁠—”

“Nervous?”

Pressing his lips together, he gave me a barely there nod.