19. Alessandra
CHAPTER NINETEEN
alessandra
I’ll come to regret this decision tomorrow.
It had been one day since I escaped the cabin, when I bumped into Claire yesterday afternoon in the grocery store.
I was on the hunt for an easy, one-person dinner and hadn’t expected an invitation to Christmas at the Sadler household, let alone that I’d accept.
She’s good, I’ll give her that.
After politely declining for five times, she came out victorious.
Her only request: a dish for the table.
After leaving the store—armed with the ingredients needed to make my grandmother’s melomakarona— I spent the day baking and mentally preparing to see Booth again.
The Greek spicy honey cookies are a crowd-pleaser when my mom does them.
But just in case, I bought a bottle of wine to wash it down with.
The disappointment of not spending the holidays with my family is the only explanation for why I said yes.
Nothing else.
Claire is nice.
Her son is…complicated.
Regardless, he didn’t play any part in my decision-making .
Nada.
So why does my skin still tingle from where his fingertips brushed my shoulders?
“Everyone, I think you’ve all met Alessandra by now,” Claire announces to the room, and I’m met with a mixture of greetings.
Some friendly. Most cautious.
I avoid Martin’s gaze, but it proves difficult when I’m seated next to him at the table.
Fortunately for me, he’s deep in conversation with George .
To my left is a new face and one of the cautious greeters.
“ Hi , I’m Harriet , Johanna’s sister.”
“Ah.” I take her outstretched hand.
“ Nice to meet you. Alessandra .”
Nodding slowly, she releases me.
“ I know who you are.”
Okayyy.
“Not a fan, then?” My question catches her off guard, and the attention of half a dozen sets of eyes around the room.
“I’m impartial.” She takes a sip of water before relaxing into her chair.
“ On one hand, you saved my family’s business, so some would argue I should be eternally grateful.”
“And on the other?”
“I think you went about it the wrong way. Plus , you clearly have it out for Booth .”
“You don’t hold back, do you? Not even sixty seconds in my seat.” I sling an arm over the back of my chair to face her fully.
Something about my tone or posture has her shedding a little animosity.
She’s blunt, but I can tell from the way she’s fiddling with her napkin it’s not natural.
“Shit, I’m so?—”
She clamps her mouth shut when I clink my glass with hers.
“ Don’t apologize. Stand by your words.”
Everyone decides a catfight isn’t going to break out and returns to their conversations .
Ignoring the strange tension, I ask, “ You and Booth talk a lot?”
“You could say that. Not about you, though. Don’t let it get to your head.” Maybe Booth put her up to this.
Like her sister, she says what’s on her mind, and I can’t fault her for it, but this act seems forced.
“No ego will ever be bigger than his.” I nod toward the man on the opposite end of the table, who averts his intent gaze in a panic.
Harriet tries to hide her amusement.
“ Oh , believe me, I know. When he visited me during the summer, I thought it would be too big to fit into my apartment.”
Who knows why, but my grin slips and a weight drops in my stomach.
“ Does he stay with you a lot?”
“No. My sister lived with me until February , so I didn’t have the space. We’ve always kept in touch since high school. It’s been nice to reconnect more this past year.” She finishes with a smile aimed at the other end of the room.
I don’t need to follow her gaze to know who is likely smiling back, dimples popping.
“You’re close then?” Shut up, Aly .
“Yeah, he’s a great guy. I’m lucky to have him.” Someone shouts her name and our conversation ends.
With my spine flush to the chair, I take a large gulp of water and push down the brainless green-eyed monster trying to make an appearance.
Before I overthink it, the food is served, and we dig in.
I feel out of place at first, but I’m made to feel welcome.
With each bite of the mouthwatering food, with each joke, my tension fades.
Once the table is cleared, I dab at my mouth with my napkin when a low voice murmurs, “ I’m sorry to hear you couldn’t visit your family.”
I’d almost forgotten Martin sat beside me.
Almost . He’s wearing a dark gray dress shirt with a tie, and slacks.
They’re a little tired looking—like him—but something pulls in my chest at the effort he’s put in.
With a steady gaze, and hopefully steadier voice, I say, “ I appreciate that. Can’t imagine I’m the only one stranded in town.” My next question is pushing it and my conscience screams at me.
“ I hope the storm didn’t ruin plans with your family?”
His gaze drops, a forlorn expression pinching his lips.
“ No . It’s mostly quiet. Claire has been kind enough to invite me the last couple of years.”
My throat clogs with emotion.
So many, it’s a struggle to swallow.
“ I —uh… No family at all?”
His reaction is unreadable, and before he responds Claire grabs everyone’s attention.
With all eyes on her, no one notices the way mine stray to Booth as he towers above her.
His hand hovers behind her, ready to keep her steady if she wobbles on her broken leg.
A warm, happy air surrounds them both as she thanks him for making dinner and for their guests.
When Claire gets choked up talking about her late husband, he swoops in, tucking her under his arm and asking everyone to raise a glass for his dad, and Johanna and Harriet’s mother.
Robotically, I mirror everyone’s movements.
Dessert is passed around and Quinn gasps around a mouthful of melomakarona.
“ Boh , ma gob. Deez are delish.” She swallows and gapes at me.
“ You have to share the recipe with me. I’ll serve them at the bakery. Oh ! Oh ! I’ll call them”—she flourishes her hands above her head—“ Alessandra’s Cookies .”
Dex, who I’ve met today, coughs into his fist. “ Booth would love a bite of them.”
I take a sip of wine, brushing off the comment, and mentally planning Booth’s demise .
The chef of the hour has the humility to cower and slumps down in his seat.
My smile is aimed in Quinn’s direction.
“ Thank you. My cookies always go over well. People love them so much, they get overexcited. Some might say…” I flick my wrist in the air.
“ Prematurely .”
Water sprays across the table like a geyser.
“What the fuck, Booth ?” Florence cries as she wipes her face.
“Florence, language. Booth , behave,” Claire scolds.
It’s like a tennis match.
Everyone’s eyes bounce back and forth between Booth and me.
Maybe coming today wasn’t such a bad idea.
But alas, I speak too soon.
“My son,” Martin whispers, carrying on our conversation like it didn’t end almost an hour ago, “hasn’t visited in a while. He wouldn’t recognize the town if he did.”
The sight of my grandmother’s dessert turns my stomach.
“How old is he?”
Stop, Aly .
He thinks for a few seconds.
“ He’ll be forty-seven in April .”
A buzzing drowns out all other voices.
“Do you visit him?”
Shaking his head, he sighs, the sound heavy with contrition.
“ He wouldn’t want to see me.”
Don’t push it.
Now isn’t the time.
“I’m sure he misses you.” There’s a slight hitch in the last word, but I push through.
It’s not easy. More like running headfirst through a brick wall, only to face another.
“ Does he have a family?”
I watch his shoulders slump with the weight of his guilt.
It’s written plain as day across his face.
Why ? That’s a question I can’t bring myself to ask.
I’ve gone too far .
“I wouldn’t know.”
And I don’t want to.
Like a record jumping, the sound of my chair scraping across the hardwood floor silences everyone.
“Excuse me.” I’m already halfway around the table.
“ Where’s the bathroom?”
“There’s one at the end of the hallway.” I barely catch Johanna’s response as I speed out of the room.
My skin is tight. Throat tight.
Everything is tight.
Worst of all, my stomach constricts as my dinner threatens to make an appearance.
I bypass the small door leading to the bathroom and make a beeline to the back of the house.
When the cold air slaps me in the face, I finally take a breath, and reality comes crashing down.
Linking my fingers together behind my head, I open up my chest and slow my heart rate.
The stars twinkle high above, winking and sparkling against the midnight black.
It looks different here.
Clearer . Brighter .
Like I’m looking at a newly discovered night sky.
As my mind clears, frustration at my stupidity creeps in.
There was a plan. One I didn’t follow.
“I’ve always loved the skies here. The Milky Way is so bright during the summer.”
My heart stutters as a deep voice ripples through the air.
I don’t turn at the crunching of shoes over the snow.
“When I was little, my dad told me it was a runway in the sky where dreams went to land while we were sleeping. The brighter the band of the light, the happier the dreams.”
It’s only when the heat from Booth’s body warms my right side that I realize how cold I am.
He speaks carefully, like I’m a skittish animal about to break loose.
“ I doubt you’ll answer, but what happened in there? ”
I should tell him it’s none of his business.
To demand he go back inside.
Ask why he even cares.
But really. Deep down.
I don’t want to do any of that.
He’s right that I won’t answer his question, though.
“ I like that.”
I risk a glimpse at him.
His head is tipped back, the muscles in his neck stretching as his eyes glitter under the tapestry of stars.
“When did you lose him?” I ask.
His breath plumes in front of him with his heavy sigh.
“ It’ll be seven years in May . Sounds insane to say that out loud. Still feels like yesterday.”
“Everyone I’ve spoken to speaks highly of him. His legacy is stamped everywhere you look when you step into the restaurant.” Booth twists toward me.
“ I wish I’d met him.”
His brows jump.
“ Don’t take this the wrong way, but if he were still here today, you wouldn’t be in town. That’s not to say he wouldn’t enjoy meeting the woman who turns my brain into soup and boils my blood at the same time.”
Huffing, I tug at the sleeves of my dress.
“ That’s the most descriptive compliment slash insult I’ve ever received. Unless turning your brain into minestrone is also an insult?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that.” He winks.
Damn him and his winks.
“Did you want to come back inside? We’re exchanging gifts.” He laughs when my eyes go wide.
“ You weren’t required to bring anything. It’s mostly for Lottie . I can drive you home if you want to leave.”
Ten minutes earlier, leaving sounded like the best solution.
Since Booth stepped outside, staying doesn’t seem so bad now; plus, I remember what else I brought.
“Oh, I have a present for Lottie .” Spinning on my heel, I take a step toward the house, only to be jolted back with a firm grip on my hand.
My head snaps down to where Booth’s fingers lock around mine, then up.
“ I know I haven’t met her properly, but I didn’t want to come empty handed. Is it weird?”
A short burst of laughter bubbles from him, eyes gleaming in a mix of surprise and amazement.
“ You’re the most complex woman I’ve ever met. Do you come with instructions? If you do, they’re probably written in a foreign language because I’ve been trying to work you out for weeks with no luck.”
I move to free myself, but he tugs me forward, the tips of our shoes touching.
“ I don’t want you to work me out,” I say flatly.
“Yeah, that much is clear, all right.” He scans my face.
“ You fire me. Rehire me. Drive me insane. Then drive me more insane with that unforgettable performance in the cabin. You act sweet one second, then ghost me the next. You tell me we’re better off hating each other, yet you turn up on Christmas Day with a present for my niece and baked goods for my mom. I can’t work out if I want to solve the beautiful riddle that you are, or continue wandering around aimlessly with no answers, so long as it means I can spend time with you. So , yeah, you’re complex. Turns out my feelings toward you are too. Want to know why?”
The shiver that runs through me vibrates up his arms. Finally , he drops my hand, only to grip me by my shoulders.
His touch is firm. I stop breathing.
The lack of oxygen is the only explanation for why I step forward.
My heavy breasts brush against his chest, and I stifle a gasp when I feel the hard length of him press against my hip.
“ If I say no, you’re going to tell me, anyway.”
Nodding, that smirk stretches wide across his face.
“ See , you’re catching on.” He bends, nose brushing the edge of my jaw.
“ My feelings for you are complex because when you scowl at me, it gets my blood pumping. Makes me want to bend you over the nearest flat surface so I can hear those sweet little moans of yours again. The same noises I jerked off to this morning.”
My body ignites into an inferno at his filthy words.
“But?” I tilt my head a fraction, baring my throat to him, and closing my eyes as his hot breath tickles the sensitive skin below my ear.
“No buts.” Gently —so fucking gently—his lips coast along the column of my neck.
“ I light up like a bonfire when you look at me like you want to kiss me.”
I do want to, I’m tempted to scream.
If I open my mouth, whatever comes out will be unpredictable and break whatever spell he’s cast on me.
I want to savor this moment for a while longer and remain enchanted under the moonlight with him.
So I stay silent and let my body do the talking.
Pushing my hips forward, his hands fall to my waist, rocking me against him.
The movements are subtle yet turn my legs to rubber.
Then the conversation with Harriet booms in my head and the spell breaks.
Noticing the change in my body language, he pauses.
“You’ve only looked at me like that once. And I’m burning, Aly . When you looked at me just then, you wanted my lips on yours,” he murmurs against my pulse point.
“ What changed?”
I refuse to verbalize my misplaced jealousy.
“ Our lips will not be meeting.”
The heat cocooning me disappears as he gently pushes me away.
His eyes glitter with promise, fueling my silent rage.
“ They will. But only when you know exactly what you want.”
And then, he walks away.