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It was just like Phillip to overthink everything when it came to Eloise.
He knew it was his anxiety getting the better of him. He knew it was his deep seated need for everything to be perfect, and wanting to make the fairytale scene in his head into a reality, because, well, she deserved it.
But he also knew that Eloise despised fairytales, and dismissed them as trite romantic fluff devoid of any deeper meaning.
So what was he (Pragmatic to a fault to the outside world, but an absolute hopeless romantic when it came to her) supposed to do in this situation?
He wanted to fill her apartment with flowers and candles, sprinkle flower petals across the bed, and have a chilled bottle of champagne ready when she walked through the door. But while other women might swoon as such a gesture, he had a feeling she’d view it as a tired cliche. So he dismissed that idea and thought to himself - he should just tell her. He didn’t need to make a show of it. Eloise would appreciate the sentiment more than the production.
But try as he might, he could never seem to find the perfect opportunity to tell her how he felt.
One
The first time he tried, he was driving her to the airport to see her off to a work conference. It was to be their first time really being away from each other since they started dating, and for some reason the nerves gnawed away at him, even though she’d only be gone for a week. It wasn’t that he was worried about the state of their relationship. On the contrary, he was very, very sure of his own feelings, and wanted to tell her so. But in typical Eloise fashion, she was chattering away for the entire car ride and he couldn’t seem to find a pause to get a word in.
“... And so it took forever and, like, twelve emails back and forth just to be able to book the hotel room, because our Finance Department kept insisting I had to pay for it with my own credit card and then doing a travel reimbursement instead of just bundling it altogether with the conference registration, which didn’t make any sense at all because it cost a lot more doing it that way, so I had to go hunt down our head of Finance to explain it to him, and…”
He glanced over at her in the passenger seat, her hands becoming more and more animated as she reached the crescendo of her story, finally, slamming them down on the dashboard as she expressed how irritated she was at the entire process.
He found it incredibly endearing.
Even her frown was adorable, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it if he told her so. So he just let her rant on until it finally died as he was pulling into the parking garage at the airport.
Then, he tried again as he waited in the security line with her, but he always seemed to be interrupted by some blaring announcement over the loudspeakers, or one of the harassed looking agents waving them into one line or another. She was checking her boarding pass on her phone, looking increasingly stressed as she glanced at her watch and then eyeballed the mass of people ahead of them in line.
He rubbed her shoulders. “Don’t stress,” he said calmly. “You’ve got plenty of time.”
“I just don’t understand how people still don’t know they’re supposed to take off their shoes and belt,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This line would move twice as fast if everyone just did what they’re supposed to.”
He smiled gently at her. “You’ve never struck me as the type to blindly follow instructions.”
“I’m not, unless it’s in the name of efficiency.”
He cleared his throat and hurriedly changed the subject, in hopes of distracting her before she ground her teeth into nubs. “I’m going to miss you.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s only a week. But I’m going to miss you, too.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed.
He bent his head down and pressed his forehead to hers, hoping to create a little private space that was just for them in the midst of the hubbub. She looked startled for a moment, then her lips curled into a smile and she closed her eyes, leaning into him. He inhaled the scent of her before steadying himself for what he wanted to say. “Eloise, I wanted to tell you something before you left. I-”
Something hard crashed into the back of his knees, knocking him forward and making his forehead clatter against hers. When he looked up, he found himself looking into the face of an older gentleman in line behind them, who had tufts of gray hair actually sprouting from his ears. It would have been funny if not for the deep frown on his face and the fact that he’d just wheeled his carry-on into Phillip’s legs.
“You’re holding up the line, Casanova,” he said, clearly displeased. And indeed, when Phillip glanced ahead of them, a large gap had opened up.
Eloise muttered a grimaced “Sorry!” before hurrying forward. Phillip sighed, swallowed his disappointment, and caught up to her. They were only a few parties back from the front of the line, now.
“I guess this is where I leave you,” he said quietly.
She gave him an apologetic look and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll call you when I get in, okay? Don’t miss me too much.”
“Impossible,” he answered, but offered her a smile anyway. She gave him a quick hug just as the agent waved her forward. He stepped out of line and waited until she had made it through the security checkpoint and turned around to wave at him one last time before leaving.
Two
The second time, he was seated at Violet Bridgerton’s enormous dining room table with Eloise and all of her siblings and their spouses. There were at least four separate conversations he could hear going on around him, and he kept getting pulled back and forth between them, making it impossible to keep up with what anyone was saying. Despite having been to many Bridgerton Sunday dinners by now, he still hadn’t mastered the art of splitting his attention, so he kept mostly quiet unless addressed directly. Thankfully, most of the Bridgertons had accepted this facet of his personality, though they all found it hilariously ironic that he was with chatterbox Eloise.
Right now, she was arguing with Benedict (it might have started off as an observation about controversial modern art but eventually evolved into a squabble about whose Spotify Wrapped was more pretentious).
“Does she force you to listen to NPR with her?” Benedict was asking him, reaching across the table to grab another dinner roll.
“Only in the car,” Phillip admitted. “But I don’t mind it.”
“So NPR is pretentious, but your weird ‘Global Sounds’ playlist isn’t?” Eloise asked, rolling her eyes.
Violet put a halt to all the conversations, tapping on her water glass sharply with her fork. “Eloise, darling, what is this I hear about you winning an award?”
Eloise looked surprised for a moment, and dabbed at her lips with her napkin before responding. “Oh. Um… an article I wrote was recognized for outstanding critical literary analysis,” she said.
“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Kate exclaimed.
“How wonderful,” Violet gushed. “I wish you would have told us earlier, I could have planned a better surprise for you!”
“Thanks, mom, but I don’t need a surprise. All of this,” she waved her hand to indicate the general chaos, “is more than enough.”
“And how do you feel about that?” Colin asked, elbowing him in the ribs.
Phillip looked up, startled. “Me? My opinion doesn’t really matter, but I’m proud of her, of course. I’m always proud of her.”
The table went quiet, and all eyes turned to look at him expectantly.
Phillip clamped his jaw shut, unsure as to why he was suddenly the center of attention.
Did they expect him to keep talking?
The seconds ticked by.
“Er…” he continued, feeling uncomfortable. “Because she’s brilliant. And persistent. She’ll follow a story to the very end to find what she’s looking for.”
Eloise looked at him with a soft smile of appreciation.
“Don’t you mean ‘obstinent’?” remarked Anthony, dryly.
“Determined,” corrected Violet. “Which Eloise has always been. It’s a compliment.”
Phillip nodded in agreement. “Yes. She forces me to think more than anyone I’ve ever known. I imagine she does the same for her students as well. She’s… amazing.”
Hyacinth leaned forward and propped her elbows on the table. “So you think of yourself as her student?” she asked, trying not to laugh.
Phillip flushed. That had been a slip of the tongue, but it wasn’t untrue. “Well, why not? I think she brings out the best in me. I know she brings out the best in me, because she inspires me to be better. Because -” He stopped then, suddenly. Swallowed his next words.
Eloise blinked at him, her eyes suddenly searching his as if she could see the unspoken words between them.
Perhaps she knew what he had almost said. What he would have said, if they hadn’t been surrounded by a rapt audience.
Because I love her.
Daphne cleared her throat to break the silence. “Well said, Phillip.”
The table nodded in agreement, and the spell was broken. Someone asked for the potatoes, and the various conversations resumed around them. He looked down at his plate and studied it intently.
Phillip could tell Eloise was still staring at him, so he met her gaze and smiled weakly. There might have been the faint hint of tears behind her eyes. “Want another glass of wine?” He asked, for lack of any other thought coming to mind.
She nodded and he refilled her glass. And the words stayed lodged in his throat for another day.
Three
The third time was during their first argument. The fight was inevitable. Not that topic of the fight - that was completely forgettable. Of course they would eventually come to a disagreement about something. Up until then their relationship had been full of passion mixed with sweet, tender moments. Phillip had never been so drunk on unbridled happiness. So when he found himself facing off with Eloise over something completely stupid, it was like someone was trying to sober him up by dunking his head in a bucket of ice water and then slapping him with a brick.
“I can’t believe you did that!” She said, her voice rising along with her temper. She stood in the doorway of his bedroom, her arms crossed over her chest. And her face was thunderous.
His heart constricted. He’d seen Eloise angry before. Plenty of times. But that anger had never been directed at him. He felt his face go hot. “I was just being stupid,” he answered weakly. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Clearly,” she retorted.
He didn’t know what to say to that. Every response that came to his mind didn’t actually convey what he was thinking, which was that he didn’t want to fight with her. He didn’t want to fight with anyone. He’d grown up being yelled at by his father, and now whenever someone raised their voice at him he couldn’t take it. So he just kept his mouth shut and turned away, unable to stomach the fury in her eyes.
“Oh, so you’re going to ignore me now?” Her tone became dangerously low.
“What? No! I just - I just…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just don’t know what you want me to say!”
“Say whatever you’re thinking! Don’t just sit there in silence and make me feel like I’m overreacting!”
He just gaped at her. “I can’t control how you feel.”
Her glare was like ice water being poured over his soul. “You know, it’s fucking patronizing when you say that,” she growled.
Phillip stared at her, his mouth working wordlessly. Finally, he managed to choke out, “I didn’t mean to patronize you, Eloise. I would never do that.”
She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands like she couldn’t believe what an idiot she was talking to.
He felt the panic rising in his chest. It was the same feeling he’d had as a child whenever his father’s face had tightened in that stony way that promised, at best, a blistering scolding.
And at worst, a lashing with a belt.
He fought it down, because if he let it overtake him, he wasn’t sure what he would do. “I’m trying to be logical.”
“Once again, patronizing.”
“I’m just trying to not make this worse!”
“And you’re doing a brilliant job at that,” she answered snidely.
He took a deep breath. “Eloise. Please-“
“Don’t Eloise me in that calm voice. You sound like you’re talking to one of your plants.”
“Would you rather me yell?”
“Honestly? Yes! Like, at least pretend you feel something instead of just being all stoic and silent!”
A bark of a laugh escaped his throat. Or maybe it was a sob. There was clearly nothing he could say or do that would fix this. He shook his head, trying to tamp it down, but there was no stopping it now. The panic rose like a tide and came crashing down over him. He felt the sting of tears behind his eyes and possibly the gag of vomit rising in his throat.
His father hated weak, sniveling crybabies.
Abruptly, he stood and ran out of his apartment, leaving Eloise angry and bewildered in his wake.
He ran around the side of the building, sank to his knees, and retched into the bushes.
He wasn’t sure how long he was there, kneeling in his own humiliation, when he felt her gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Phillip,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”
A sob tore from his throat as he buried his face in his hands.
“Phillip,” she whispered, sounding alarmed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you like this. I didn’t think-” Her arms went around him and she hugged him tight.
He wanted to shake her off, but even in this state he couldn’t do it. Because her touch was his savior.
“I can’t yell at you, Eloise,” he finally managed, his voice low and shaky. “I won’t yell at you. I won’t be like him.”
He cracked then, and all he could manage was a harsh whisper. “Don’t ask me to be like him.”
In his mind, all he could think was, Because I love you. I love you so much it feels like I'm being ripped apart. I love you so much I would die before I let myself hurt you.
But he couldn’t say it, not with snot running down his face and smelling of vomit.
A soft cry escaped her. “No,” she whispered. And then louder, more firm. “No. You’re not like him. You’re nothing like him, Phillip.” She kissed his temple, the only part of his face she could reach with his head bowed. “You’re you, and you’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever known.”
“I thought you hated me,” he said brokenly.
She sucked in a breath. “Hate you? Why would you think that?”
“We’re fighting. You’re angry. You’re yelling.” Even as he said it, he knew it sounded stupid. But it spilled out of him like a confession. Because all he had ever known was that anger equaled contempt. Yelling equaled disgust.
He felt her freeze as the realization hit her.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered in his ear. “I don’t hate you. I didn’t realize me raising my voice would affect you like this. In my family we’re always yelling, because otherwise no one will hear you. It’s just what we do. It doesn’t mean anything more than we’re just loud. I’m so sorry, Phillip.”
He leaned into her and wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling like a child. It was embarrassing. But he needed reassurance.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you…
He chanted in his head, hoping that if he thought it enough, she would hear him.
Four
The fourth time, they were standing in a glass topped butterfly house.
He and Eloise were babysitting the twins and had taken them to the local botanical garden, where he’d happily answered every question they had and spent far too long pointing out things like the pattern of veins on different leaves or how cactus spines grew in a spiral. After two hours, the kids had begun to grow restless, which Eloise had gently pointed out to Phillip after pulling him aside.
“Why don’t we go see the butterfly house?” She suggested.
“YAY!!!” The twins shouted, jumping up and down.
So they’d bought their tickets and after impatiently waiting in line, were admitted to a humid little enclosure filled with floating butterflies in all sizes and colors.
Oliver and Amanda immediately ran ahead, peering into a large flowering shrub that was covered in the insects. “Watch where you step,” Phillip called anxiously. “You don’t want to accidentally crush any.”
Eloise smiled at the kids’ enthusiasm and slipped her hand into his. As humid as it was, he knew that his hand was probably clammy, but she didn’t seem to mind. “This is fun,” she said into his ear. “We should take the kids for a treat later. I know this great place that makes the best hand churned ice cream.”
He smiled down at her. “I love that you’re getting along with them. They seem to really like you. That doesn’t always happen, you know. They can be kind of weird around strangers.”
Eloise scoffed. “I told you. I’m the world’s greatest aunt. I’m a pro at kids. Babies, not so much, but kids are easy.”
“Just bribe them with ice cream?”
“Shhh. Don’t give away my secrets.”
He grinned, and was about to lean down to kiss her, when he heard Oliver shout exitedly from up ahead. “Oliver!” he called, looking up. “Use your inside voice, please.” He extracted his hand from her grip and hurried ahead, looking for the twins. He found them squatting near some low flowers, their hands reaching forward, only inches from the tiny blue butterflies that fluttered amongst the blooms.
“Don’t touch!” He admonished, more strictly than he intended. “They’re delicate. Their wings are made from scales and if you touch them too much, you can damage them.”
Both kids looked chagrined, and they pulled their hands back ashamedly. He suddenly felt bad for his tone. “Sorry. I should have said that in a nicer way.” The kids pouted for a moment, but were soon distracted and stumbled off again.
Eloise approached and wrapped her arms around him from behind. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a dad. A hot dad. Actually, I’m kind of surprised you never get hit on while you’re out with the twins. Women love a man with kids. Or a puppy.”
He snorted. “Would you have hit on me if you thought I was a dad?”
She thought for a moment. “If I overheard you explaining to them the difference between thorns and spines? Absolutely. I adore nerdy men.”
He laughed then, and turned to face her, but immediately sucked in his breath.
“Don’t move,” he whispered, stepping back. “You’ve got three monarchs on your head.”
Eloise froze, but her face lit up. “Really?”
He nodded, and quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hold still, I’ll get a photo.” As he lined up the shot, he couldn’t help but grin at the absolutely giddy expression on her face. She looked breathtaking, with a smile that, in his mind, lit up the entire room. The three orange butterflies gently flapped their wings, perched in her hair. She looked like some sort of ethereal forest fairy.
He took several photos then turned his phone to show her. She let out a soft squeal and he could tell she was trying not to reach up and touch the butterflies on her head. And in that moment, he was struck so hard by a wave of utter devotion that he nearly staggered. The words came without thought.
“Eloise, I–”
“Uncle Flip!” Amanda was suddenly at his side, tugging at his shirt.
He blinked and looked down.
“I have to go to the bathroom. Really bad.” She looked up at him with wide eyes and shifted suspiciously back and forth on her feet.
“I told you not to drink that whole slurpee,” said Oliver, rolling his eyes before turning back to a row of milkweed plants.
Amanda stuck her tongue out at him, but kept bouncing.
Phillip glanced at Eloise, then back down at his niece. Perfect timing, he thought with a sigh. “Okay. I’m not sure where the bathroom is. I’ll have to ask–”
“I saw it on the way in,” Eloise interrupted. The three butterflies flapped and lifted off her head, settling into a nearby tree. “I’ll take her.”
Amanda looked grateful, and reached for Eloise’s hand. “Oh good,” she said. “Because it’s kind of an emergency…” She squeezed her thighs together.
Eloise nodded. “We’ll meet you outside,” she told Phillip, before grabbing Amanda’s hand and taking off with her at a jog towards the door.
Phillip looked after them, a rueful smile flickering over his face. Then he shook his head slightly and went to join Oliver.
Five
The fifth time was after they made love.
Well, it wasn’t really the fifth time - it was after every time they made love. As they lay there, basking in the afterglow and each other’s warmth, the words always came to him. He didn’t want to say it right after sex, because that would cheapen it. But the words ran through his mind incessantly as she snuggled in his arms, their heartbeats slowing to back normal.
“Mmm,” she murmured, the sound vibrating against his throat as she nuzzled against him. “You smell good.”
He kissed her forehead gently and chuckled. “You always think that when I’m sweaty.”
She shrugged and inhaled again, loudly. Her breath tickled his skin. “Must be pheromones or some other silly science thing.”
She was teasing him, he knew. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their post sex banter. It might have been his favorite part of the day, almost more than the act itself. He adored their sweet kisses, and the way her body felt so soft when she was languid and lazy next to him, her skin reddened from arousal. He loved the way her hair spilled over the pillow in sweaty tangles and tickled his face. He loved the way she traced patterns on his skin with her fingernail, then tenderly pressed her lips to that spot like she was soothing him. He loved the way she giggled when she teased him, and the way her breathy voice did unspeakable things to him when she whispered in his ear, and especially when she moved her body over him, hands roaming, bringing him back to life so she could seek her pleasure once more.
He loved her, he thought breathlessly, every time he let his eyes wander over her features, whether they were in bed or not. He didn’t know why he was having such a hard time telling her. He thought it all the time. He just wanted to make it special. Because he wanted her to understand just how much she had changed his life the moment she had walked into it.
And, finally...
He was still undecided how to approach the topic.
She’d come over to his place and he’d cooked her dinner, which had become a weekly routine. He’d watched her as she chattered about her students and her classes, her fork hovering over her plate of roast chicken and vegetables, food momentarily forgotten as she relayed to him a funny, slightly exasperated story about having to explain over and over that Wikipedia was not a legitimate source to cite when writing papers for class. She got so animated over it that he finished his plate before she was even halfway through hers. But he didn’t interrupt; he just watched her with a half formed smile quirking on his lips. She liked to talk with her hands. Her forehead got a crease in the middle when she was especially annoyed. The same lock of hair kept slipping into her face and she reached up and tucked it behind her ear so many times without thinking that he had to actively keep himself from reaching out and wrapping it around his finger.
They ended up on the couch together after dinner, watching a movie that neither of them were particularly invested in, but gave them an excuse to cuddle. She pulled the blanket over them both, her legs curled up and hands tucked inside the hem of his hoodie. Her head settled into that little space that was somewhere between his chest and his armpit, and he always marveled that his body seemed perfectly designed to fit around hers. They were smashed into the corner of the couch, two-thirds of it unoccupied, but Phillip didn’t mind. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head, wondering what heroic feat he’d done in a past life that he deserved such bliss as this.
It was a good thing they’d chosen the film just to have something playing in the background, because there was no way he could keep up with the plot with Eloise keeping up a running commentary on its believability - namely, that it didn’t have any.
“Oh my gosh. Why would she make such a stupid mistake? That doesn’t fit with her character at all,” she complained.
“I mean, sometimes you just need to suspend belief for the sake of having a plot,” he replied, amused.
She snorted.
A few scenes later: “Ugh. Why are men so allergic to normal communication? If he was just honest about how he felt then they wouldn’t even be in this situation.”
He swallowed nervously at that, and opened his mouth - but the words still didn’t come out. Which was probably a good thing, because she kept muttering about how if he just said sorry…
He tightened his arm around her and let her ramble on. The movie kept playing, and after she’d been uncharacteristically quiet for a long time, he glanced down and was surprised to find she’d dozed off. The flickering light from the TV reflected off her serene features, and he found that his heart skipped a beat just gazing at her.
The warm weight of her leaning against him. The feel of her soft breath tickling his neck. The way her hands burrowed into his shirt until her fingers found the skin of his abdomen. Her lashes grazing across her cheeks. Rosy lips, slightly parted, and the damp puddle of drool on his chest. God, she was perfect. This was perfect.
He closed his eyes and inhaled the fragrance of her hair. “I love you,” he murmured into the top of her head. “You are all I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’ll ever need.”
And once the words started, he couldn’t seem to stop.
“I love your bedhead and morning kisses. I love when you text me just to tell me what’s happening in your day. I love cooking dinner with you and taking walks with you and just sitting here with you. I even love it when you put your freezing hands on me because I want to touch you forever. I want to laugh with you and cry with you. You’re the reason I feel alive every day. I love you, Eloise.”
He didn’t expect her to hear, but she stirred against him, pressing her face into him before tilting her face up and blinking sleepily.
Those beautiful gray eyes gazed at him for a long moment. Then her lips curved into a soft smile as one hand came up to stroke his cheek.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
And the comfort of those words was all that needed to exist.