11. Chapter Eleven - Lexie
Lexie
The remnants of summer disappear in the blink of an eye, and before I know it, I need to bundle up in a thick coat and scarf before leaving the building. I always thought summers in London would be clammy, cold and rainy, but this year has proved me wrong on that.
But fall brings another change along as well: Derek is finally leaving me alone. Thank God.
Finally, I can go out without the fear of running into him. Or close up, not having to wonder if he’s already waiting for me outside. No more pretending to live somewhere else and having to take an unnecessary detour every evening.
It feels like I can finally breathe again. The kind of deep breath that hurts your lungs, the first calm breath after a run. I didn’t even know how heavy the weight on my chest was until it was gone, and I feel so much better already now that I have some space.
Meanwhile, Jackson and I have fallen into another routine.
Our early morning coffees came to a stop once Derek started loitering outside the store before opening. I never felt the urge to have my break outside and run into him.
I miss it though. That moment of calmness in the morning, before the day started to get busy. And I really started to miss my early morning walks.
So now Jackson and I have started to have them together. Instead of stopping by like before at the end of his walk, he collects me before my shift starts and we explore the area, a thermos with coffee in our hands.
Then in the evening, whenever his schedule allows for it, we do more sightseeing. We’ve walked past Buckingham Palace, checked out Westminster Abbey from the outside and walked past Parliament.
“How about the London Eye?” he’d asked me as we strolled by it on the opposite site of the Thames, but I shook my head.
“Do you see the line in front of it?” The crowd waiting for their ride is so huge I can see it from here. “I want to go on it, but not ‘I’ll wait around for hours’ kind of urgently.”
“Good point,” he’d pointed out, quickly pulling me to him as a biker almost drove right into us. They are just everywhere. I never thought they’d be the most dangerous thing I’d encounter in London.
It might seem small, but I find myself really looking forward to those early morning walks, even though we never manage to stray very far from Bake and Books. At least I finally know a bit of the area now.
We've definitely grown closer thanks to those mornings, with him enjoying the normalcy of walking London streets without fans running up to him and me in awe of the, albeit highly censored, stories from his job.
They’re so fascinating, considering the most exciting thing that happens in my job is that bread dough doesn't rise properly.
"So how are your dates going?" Bailey asks me as I come back from a quick lunch break upstairs. Just this morning, I got the delivery for a bookshelf and just spent the past half an hour growing more and more frustrated over the complicated instructions on how to build it.
It’s finally starting to look like a home up there. I even had a movie night with Bailey a few days back. He insisted on watching the rest of Jackson’s movies with me, and even he noticed the small touches like a carpet or pictures on the wall that I added.
He’s turned into a huge Jackson fan over the movies, while I’ve done the exact opposite and slipped into a bit of denial.
Because what do you mean, one of my best, closest friends is a goddamn movie star?
“They are not dates,” I point out and hide a yawn behind my hand. I might have rewatched one of the movies to fall asleep but, again, ended up fully invested in the story and staying up to finish watching it instead.
"How are your ‘sightseeing meetups?’" he corrects himself with an eye roll and puts air quotes around the last two words.
Subtly, I scratch my temple with my middle finger.
"We're having a lot of fun, thank you," I say sweetly as I hurry past him as customers enter and I realize Alan is in the back. But as soon as the doorbell announces their departure, Bailey leans on the counter, eyes glistening with curiosity and amusement.
"So, you two are having fun, huh?"
"Yes, we are," I say and flick a crumb from the counter at him. "We went to see Wicked yesterday, that was really fun ."
“The musical or the movie?”
“Musical.” I hadn’t even realized there was one.
"Nice. I didn’t peg you for a musical girly." Bailey chuckles and eyes me curiously.
“Seriously?" I raise my eyebrow at him. “My favorite movies include old Barbie ones, and you still didn’t make the connection to musicals?”
"My bad.” He lifts his hands defensively as I shake my head at him. I narrow my eyes at him but decide to let him off the hook for now.
“So how is your dating life?" I ask him with an eyebrow wiggle. I have a suspicion as to what’s going on with him, but I’m waiting for him to tell me himself.
Around two weeks after the breakup, Olivia came back here, a guilty look on her face and a little ‘I'm so sorry’ basket in her hand that contained some wine and sweets.
"Oh, stop it," I’d told her and quickly ushered her to the back, where Bailey was just unpacking a new book delivery. "I appreciate it, but there's really no need for you to apologize. You couldn't have known any better than I did.”
She’d tried to object but I shushed her. Rude of me, I know, but she really has nothing to apologize for in my opinion. "How about the three of us just try this thing together once we're closed?"
Bailey had no idea what was going on but of course agreed to join us, and once the last customer left and we finished closing up, we pulled together all the armchairs and had some pizza delivered, digging into her basket as dessert.
Was it weird to hang out with my ex-fiancé’s mistress?
Hell yeah.
But it turns out we're somewhat on the same wavelength. Both of us are really into culinary stuff, although she’s more into cooking than me. What can I say, I’m more into exact measurements than the ‘adding spice until your ancestors scream at you to stop’ approach.
I’ve tasted my grandma’s cooking and she wouldn’t have a clue when to scream. So I’ll stick to baking.
But apart from that? Apparently, we like the same movies, the same music and even the same types of dogs. It’s kind of eerie.
“What does she have that I don’t?” I’d asked Bailey in a whisper when she went to the restroom, but his answer was a gentle slap to the back of my head.
“Stop it right there,” he’d hissed while I rubbed the spot he’d hit. “Derek was a greedy asshole. You might share some interests but you’re completely different, so get that question out of your head right the fuck now.”
That’s when Olivia returned, looking between the two of us quizzically when we suddenly shut up.
"So, did he try to win you back too?" Bailey asked her after we all had our first glass of wine and maybe several of rum-soaked pralines. “Because he’s like dog poo stuck under her shoe, really fucking persistent.”
"Yeah," she'd said, shooting me a guilty look and sinking into herself. "And same here. He just won’t leave me alone.”
"Well, we learned you just gotta freak out at him like a rabid chihuahua," Bailey tells her with a grin directed at me, and she looks at both of us confused.
Bailey told her about the argument that he apparently still takes great joy in re-watching on our security cameras. Meanwhile, I wish for the ground to open up. It really wasn’t my proudest moment, even though it helped.
"If you ever marry, I am 100% playing this tape during my best friend speech."
"Isn’t that some kind of data breach?" I shook my head at him. “Time to find a new best friend. Probably going to be another decade until I marry, anyway. I couldn't even imagine dating right now."
"You couldn't?" he asked, voice high with surprise, but then shut up about it pretty soon. I didn’t stay much longer, because I had to work the next day, but Bailey and Olivia apparently stayed and talked for a while longer.
And well, coincidentally he started spending a lot of time on his phone from that evening on, so I have my suspicions.
"A delivery for Lexie?" a man suddenly asks from the front door, and both of us whirl around to see where the voice came from. We never even noticed the delivery driver entering.
"Ooh, flowers," Bailey coos as he sees the huge bouquet in the delivery guy's arms. The way he's wiggling his eyebrows and winking at me, he’s seeing the sizable bicep of the delivery driver too.
"Uh, that’s me," I utter, shaking my head at my dumbfoundedness, and Bailey quickly takes the bouquet out of the guy's hands. Who would send me flowers?
"Please sign here," he asks, and I oblige, writing the few swirls that are supposed to indicate my name. I eye the flowers in Bailey's arms curiously while the delivery man leaves.
"Who is sending me flowers?" I ask him as soon as the door shuts behind him and we’re alone in the store again.
"Well, we are about to find out." He sets the flowers down on his counter and fishes an envelope out of the middle of the bouquet. I hadn't even seen it among the giant roses.
My heart beats into my throat as he turns it in his hands, and then suddenly his face drops.
"They’re from Derek," he says with a deep sigh and holds up the envelope that indeed reveals Derek’s messy handwriting.
What the hell? I thought I made my point very clear, but apparently, he still didn’t get it. So, what now? I’m sure as hell not keeping them, but throwing them away still feels like a shame.
"Do you want to have them?" I ask him, and Bailey’s face breaks into a grin.
"I mean, I kind of do and I kind of don’t," he admits, inspecting the bouquet from all sides. "But I can drop them off at the nursing home around the corner this evening."
"You know what? Please do that," I nod, pinching the bridge of my nose. "And burn that card, will you?"
With a heavy sigh, I lean my elbows on the counter and bury my face in my hands.
One month. Only for one month, Derek managed to leave me alone before starting this whole thing up. Is there any way to get him to understand he needs to leave me the fuck alone? Maybe it’s time to involve law enforcement after all, but I doubt they can do much.
"Are you alright?" Bailey asks softly, and my eyes jump to him.
"Strangely, I am," I admit in a whisper and clear my throat. "I mean, it hasn’t been long compared to how many years we were together. I don’t feel indifferent to him by far, but it doesn’t feel like a dull knife jabbed into my heart, you know?" I tell him, getting off the counter and snaking my arms around myself subconsciously. “More like an annoying twinge from time to time, but now it’s more annoying than hurtful. Still, a strange feeling."
"Of course it is," Bailey points out with a nod. He rounds the counter to nudge my shoulder with his and puts his arm around my shoulder. "You were planning your whole future with him. That breakup… it put your whole life upside down. Hell, you don’t even need to stay in London anymore."
Melancholy clouds his voice, and now it’s my turn to nudge his shoulder to comfort him.
"Well, good thing I want to stay in London for the foreseeable future," I tell him with a small smile playing at my lips as I look up to him. "I’ve gone through all the trouble of getting a visa and moving here. I’ve made a new life for myself and I’m not giving that up after just a few months. Not because of him."
"That’s good." His lips curl into a smile and I furrow my eyebrows, confused when it slips off his face. "Lexie?"
"Yeah?”
“I have something to confess." His voice trembles with nervousness and his arm slips down my shoulder as I slowly turn to him, fearing the worst.
"What?" I ask suspiciously. “Are you dying?”
"Olivia and I kind of started seeing each other," he says quickly, the words melting into each other, and my eyes grow wide.
"Oh." Honestly, with the seriousness in his voice, I expected him to give me way worse news. “Yeah, I figured. Erm, I mean, congratulations.”
"Well, you know that evening she was here, after you went upstairs, we got to talking, and I kind of got her number. I swear I only wanted to check in and see if she’s alright." The words come out of his mouth, faster and faster, as he nervously wrings his fingers, but then he suddenly freezes. "Wait. What do you mean ‘you figured?’”
“Please.” I roll my eyes at him. “Ever since she came over, you’re hardly able to take your eyes off your phone, and I caught you giggling at it more than once. It wasn’t hard to figure out. Why didn’t you tell me?" I ask and playfully punch him in the biceps.
"I don’t know, it’s just a weird dynamic," he says, rubbing the spot where I just hit him. "I mean, you’re taking it remarkably well, but she’s still the woman your ex cheated on you with. I know you’re mainly mad at him, but it’s hard to imagine that there’s zero resentment for her.”
“I mean, becoming besties wasn’t really on my list," I think out loud with a shrug, "but she is cool to hang out with. It would be a lie to say that I don’t have any hang-ups regarding her, but if I’m being honest, my opinion isn’t the important one here. Does she make you happy?"
"I mean, yeah," he admits sheepishly, "as far as I can judge from one date, then yeah."
"Oh, how cute, you’re blushing," I point out and lift my arm to pinch his cheek, but he swats my hand away.
"Well, you being happy is honestly more important than me being apprehensive about her. It's not like she set out to take my man, right?"
"Right. Thank you," he says and shoots me a carefree grin.
“I don’t need all the details though,” I utter under my breath, making him burst into laughter.
“Roger that. I still want them from you and loverboy though.”
“Not. A. Chance.”
"So? What do you think about Bailey’s girlfriend?” I ask Alan later as we’re hanging out in the kitchen out of sheer curiosity.
“Nothing yet, haven’t met her,” he says gruffly and starts one of our mixers. “I heard she’s got a history with you though.”
“She does,” I reply and shrug. “But she’s not at fault for Derek being an asshole. From what I can tell, she’s lovely.”
“That’s good then,” he mumbles with an approving nod. “What about you? Are you and that kid dating?"
"Jackson?" I ask him and shake my head when he nods in reply. "No, we’re not dating, we’re just friends."
"Seriously?" He looks at me for a moment, corners of his mouth twitching, then breaks into laughter. I stop in the middle of rolling up croissants and look at him confused.
"Why are you laughing?"
"Sweetie, I ask this with love, but are you blind? You can see from a mile away that the boy has the biggest crush on you."
"No, he doesn’t," I object and shake my head.
"Oh, he most definitely does." Alan grins and clasps my shoulder, shaking me with his booming laugh. "I’d know, trust me."
"We're just friends," I pout. “Why will nobody believe that?” It seems the more often I say it, the less I'm inclined to believe it myself, and I quickly shake my head. I’m not going there.
Jackson is a movie star for fuck’s sake. He wouldn’t be interested in me.
"Because you’re in denial." Alan stops the mixer and takes a seat next to me. "What would be so terrible about something more?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.
For a minute, I continue rolling together the croissants, trying to gather my thoughts.
What would be so terrible? Jackson is lovely. He makes me laugh, he's reliable, and he's honest from as far as I can tell.
But as I know now, that doesn’t mean shit.
“Nothing terrible,” I finally admit with a sigh, and turn to face him. "But I don’t know if I see myself dating again any time soon."
"Why not?" Alan wonders. "As my family and friends used to say when bailey’s mother left, the best way to get over a woman is to get on another one. Well, man for you." He bursts into laughter once more when he sees my face contorting into a disgusted grimace.
"Ew, Alan, just no,” I scold him and shake my head at him.
"What? I’m just relaying everyone’s advice."
"Well, I’m sorry, but they gave you shitty advice. I’m not going to use Jackson as a rebound," I explain, and he crosses his arms in front of his chest.
"I’m not asking you to. Listen, I get that Derek did a real shitty thing, but you like Jackson. I can see it every time you talk about him. Your eyes light up, you blush, the whole nine yards, like Bailey in high school when his crush was around.” I grin, imagining little blushing Bailey in my head. “You like him, and that’s fine. It’s good, in fact. Are you really going to let Derek ruin that?"
"It’s not just Derek though," I point out and get back to rolling croissants. "I don’t even know who I am anymore without a partner."
"But why do you have to find that out if you’re ultimately going to land in another relationship anyway?" Alan prods, and I frown at him.
"That’s real shitty advice, you know?"
"Oh, I do." He grins. "But if you don’t know who you are because of a relationship, you’re doing something fundamentally wrong in my opinion."
He clasps my shoulder once again before he takes the dough out of the mixer, carrying it to the other side of the kitchen and forming it with his back to me, whistling happily like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on me.