Dante
I drive into the city later in the morning when Elliott messages me that he is awake. There is the usual ritual of him buzzing me into his apartment, offering me a seat at his hexagon table, and then offering me a drink (it's 5 o'clock somewhere), but I am only interested in a coffee. He is still in his pajamas, hair messy, bathrobe lazily tied shut. Eloise always looks so refined even when she is an explosion inside. She has that natural grace; everything that Elliott does perfectly always seems like a fluke.
"So, you managed to pull it off?" Elliott asks with dark rings around his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter as the coffee percolates. He has done a deep clean since I've been here last time and it really emphasizes the modern sterility of his home. He adds: "Hope you
