Chapter 9
Chapter 9
“Sorry about that,” Alex says as he closes the door.
“No worries. He’s a cute kid.”
Alex’s features soften as he replies, “He’s the best.” He gestures at the folder I’d left open on the sofa. “Have a look through.”
“Sure.” I take my seat and open the folder on my lap.
Alex sits down right next to me, close enough to see the photographs in the folder, and instantly, my back stiffens like a rod. First, I’ve got to witness his softer side with all that cute Nathan stuff, and now he’s sitting so close to me, I can smell his intoxicating scent, a combination of vanilla and…grapefruit?
He shoots me a look out of the corner of his eye. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you. Perfectly comfortable.” I begin to leaf through the images. They are all landscapes, some including structures, all with the same incredible skies in I saw his work at Cozy Cottage High Tea. “These are awesome,” I say, genuinely impressed.
“Thanks. Most of those I took in India and Nepal.” He leans back on the sofa next to me, his relaxed posture in stark contrast to my own utterly tense version. Sitting on a sofa this close to Alex has definitely shot into my top ten of things to avoid, along with swimming with sharks and keeping tarantulas as pets.
“It looks incredible there. So many mountains,” I say as I study the photos.
“Heard of the Himalayas?”
I scoff. “Of course I’ve heard of the Himalayas.”
“Well . . .” He gestures at the image on my lap of a majestic mountain.
“Wow,” I say despite myself. I mean, this is a picture of a Himalayan mountain, a Himalayan mountain Alex has seen in the flesh . . . or in the rock, or whatever that expression should be for a mountain. It’s pretty darn impressive.
“The next few I took in Nepal.”
I continue to flick through the folder when Alex says, “Tell me something. Why does Larissa always use my full name when she talks about me? She never just calls me ‘Alex.’ It’s always ‘Alex Walsh’ this and ‘Alex Walsh’ that. It’s kinda weird.”
I admit I had noticed that. “She’s just quirky, that’s all. It could be that she thinks the name ‘Alex’ is too short, or she likes the way ‘Walsh’ sounds. Who knows? She thought your name was ‘Alex Alex’ originally.”
“Why?” he asks with a laugh.
I think about how I’d been so shocked that Alex, the guy I’d hated for so long, was the one who took such a gorgeous photo when I first saw it at the Cozy Cottage. “Oh, no reason.” I turn the page and see the same image that was at Cozy Cottage High Tea. It’s of an ornate building beneath a huge sky. “I love this one. Is this in India or Nepal?”
He shifts a little closer to me on the sofa and a weird, zingy feeling grows in my belly. I flip my hair over my shoulders and do my best to ignore it.
What has gotten into me today?
“I took it in Rajasthan in Northern India. It’s so beautiful there. I’ve got that one and a bunch of others in the same series framed in a box. They were for a show I did some time back. Want to see?”
“Sure.”
He gets up, and I let out the breath I’d been holding for the longest time. Why does he have to sit so close to me? I mean, it’s a large sofa, so there’s plenty of room. He’s probably doing it to disconcert me. Yes, that’s what! He’s trying to make me feel uncomfortable.
Well, Alex, you have succeeded. Well done.
He walks around the back of the sofa and pulls out a file box. He places it with care on the low coffee table and flips the open lid.
I read the side of the box: “Rajasthan landscapes.” I lean forward and peer inside. There’s a row of black frames, all identical in size, and all neatly stacked against one another. “Can I pull them out?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
I randomly select one frame and pull it out of the box.
“That’s Taj Lake Palace in Udaipur. They filmed a James Bond movie there years ago, and restaurants in the town show the movie most nights of the week.”
I examine the image in my hands. It’s of a beautiful, ornate building in the middle of a lake. “It’s gorgeous.” I place it carefully on the coffee table and reach into the box for the next one. This feels like Christmas Day, waiting to find out what each wrapped present is.
I pull another framed photograph out. This one has a group of men standing in front of a fortress-like building, turbulent clouds swirling above their heads.
He takes his seat on the sofa again, sitting just as close as he did before, and I can’t help but catch another hint of his scent. Combined with the closeness of his warm bulk, that zingy feeling starts up inside once more. It’s more than a little unnerving. I move to the very edge of the sofa, as far away from Alex as I can be without slipping down onto the floor—I’m literally holding on by a butt cheek here.
He doesn’t comment this time. Instead, he says, “That’s the Brahma temple in a town called Pushkar. The temple is actually really brightly painted in blues and reds, which you can’t see in this shot. I met those men, and they allowed me to take a few shots of them. That guy here,” he points at one of the men in a long white shirt over white pants, “he had only three teeth. He was super proud of them, though.” He’s so close to me now, I can almost feel his warm breath on my cheek. What is it with him today?
“How did he eat?” I ask, focusing on the photo.
“I don’t know, but I’d say carefully and slowly. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yes. Totally.” I give a light laugh. It helps release some of the weirdness I’m feeling. “You know what?” I say as I hop up onto my feet. “I’m going to start two piles. A ‘yes’ pile and a ‘no’ pile. I’m going to add this to the ‘yes’ pile.” I place the framed photograph on top of the original image on the coffee table.
“Sounds like a good idea to me. Whatever you choose, you can take with you now to show Larissa, and I’ll send you the electronic files.”
“Sure.” I reach into the box and pull out another photograph. It has another big sky, this time with a man walking away from the camera through a field of knee-high grass. “This one is gorgeous.”
Even though I turn it around so he can see, he comes over to stand beside me. Seriously? He’s like a tracking beacon, homing in on me wherever I go. Doesn’t he know behaving like this only makes people feel awkward?
“That’s Three Tooth Guy again. He took me to that field. Said the light was really good there. I think he was right.”
“Another ‘yes.’” I lean down and place the framed photo on top of the other two. I reach into the box and pull out the next one, and the next, and the next. Alex tells me about each one, still standing uncomfortably close, still smelling ridiculously good, his low voice rumbling through me with each explanation, each compelling anecdote. By the time I’ve finished the box, every image is in the ‘yes’ pile, and the ‘no’ pile has yet to receive its first entry.
I do a quick count. “That’s ten images. With the six from Cozy Cottage, I only need another twenty, thirty tops, and we’ve got ourselves an exhibition.”
He leans back on his heels and laughs. “As I said, I’m not sure I have enough of what Larissa’s looking for, but let’s check.” He wanders back around the sofa.
As he begins to rummage through things, I give my butt a discrete rub—it’s not worked that hard since my last Hot Yoga session—and sit back down on the plump sofa.
He lifts another box out and places it on the table. He removes the lid and pulls out the first framed photograph. “I took this in a place called Manali, in the province of Himachal Pradesh. Manali is a really special place. It’s the mountainous region in the north of India, so all the mountains you see are the Himalayan foothills. This whole box is from there, so expect a lot of mountains.”
“Makes sense.”
Much to my annoyance, he sits back next to me, and I’ve got to work hard at being relaxed, which of course means I’m once again about as relaxed as a cat in a room full of plump mice. We work our way through the box, and by the end, I’ve not added a single photograph to the “no” pile.
“You know, Alex, you’re a really good photographer.”
“Coming from you, that’s a real compliment.”
I shoot him a look. “You may not be my favorite person, as we discussed earlier—”
“Ah, yes. The bosom buddies conversation. That was fun.”
I roll my eyes. “As I was saying, you’re not my favorite person, but I know talent when I see it.”
“Well, thank you.” He hands me the folder from the coffee table. “Have a look through this to see if there’s anything else you like the look of.” He stands up, and I swear my butt lets out a groan of relief as I relax a notch or ten. “Want another coffee? Personally, I could do with some more caffeine.”
“Because of your late night?” I lead.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Sure.”
“Another coffee would be great.”
As he wanders over to the kitchen, I begin to look through the images. I select eight of them, including one of a little girl, sitting in a field of daisies, a majestic mountain behind her. “There are so many great photos in here, Alex. Larissa is going to be deliriously happy,” I call out.
He walks back over to the sofa. “Keeping Larissa happy seems to be the biggest part of your job.”
I look up at him and shrug. “I guess.”
“Is she the reason you wear head-to-toe blue at work?”
I raise my chin, feeling weirdly protective of Larissa. “I like blue.”
“Sure, but you’ve got to wear it every day, right?”
I think of my closet, full to the brim with blue clothes. There’s this one small section, reserved for the weekends, that’s filled with every other color in the rainbow. Including my preferred shade of pink.
I open my mouth to respond when I hear a phone chime. Alex walks over to the kitchen counter and picks his phone up. “I’ve gotta take this,” he says as he walks past me toward a door at the end of the room. “I’ll be back in five.” He says “hello” as he closes the door behind him.
Once I finish looking through the images in the folder, I stand up and stretch. I arch my back and give my butt another rub to ease the now persistent ache. It’s Alex’s fault for sitting so darn close to me. It’s like he enjoys bugging me. Like he knew sitting that close would make me super uncomfortable.
See? Cocky.
I wander around the room. I know I should be waiting quietly for him to return, but I can’t resist a quick snoop. Don’t judge me. I’m only human. And anyway, isn’t it good to get to know the person you’re working with? Larissa is taking a huge punt on him, and I need to make sure there’s nothing lurking in any closet that might leap out and bite us. Well, that’s my excuse, anyway.
I walk over to the large bookshelf and peruse the shelves. There’s some fiction—typical boy books like thrillers—and a bunch of coffee table books, some on photography, some on different countries, including India. I pull one out and flick through it. I’ve not been to India, but from what I’ve seen today, it looks like a spectacular country. I slot the book back in its spot.
I can hear Alex’s muffled voice echoing through the closed door. I let out a puff of air, my hands on my hips as I wait. I know Larissa is going to be thrilled with these photos. I also know I need about ten more to have enough for her to choose from for the exhibition. Are there more boxes behind that sofa?
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I step around to the back of the sofa. There I see another five boxes, all labeled in the same handwriting. Only ten or fifteen photographs my ass. There must be fifty here, at least!
Feeling a little like a naughty child opening the presents under the tree before Christmas Day, I pull the nearest box out and remove the top. I’m met with another row of black frames, stacked neatly, just as in the other boxes.
I pull the first picture out and turn it over in my hands. It’s a profile shot of a beautiful woman, her head thrown back as she laughs. Her long dark hair pools on the mat behind her as she sits in a field of daisies. She looks happy, free. I examine the image closer. That field looks familiar. I lean the photograph against the back cushion of the sofa and rifle through the images in my ‘yes’ pile until I find the one of Three Tooth Guy. I place the images side by side and look from one to the other. Yup, that’s the same field for sure.
I return my attention to the box and pull out another photo. I hold it in my hands and study it. It’s of the same woman, only this time, it’s a close-up of her face, her eyes wide and beautiful. She’s looking directly out at me, her lips curved into a Mona Lisa smile. It’s an arresting image, and it gets me wondering who she is to Alex that he’d take a photo like this. And then keep it in a box.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
With a jolt of surprise, I look from the image up to Alex. Gone is his habitual smirk, now replaced by a look of pure thunder, his features tense, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
“I found some more boxes. I wanted more images for Larissa, and I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“Well, I do mind.” His voice is cold, uncompromising.
“Okay.” I shove the image back into the box and pat the neat row of pictures. I have no clue why. Nerves, probably. I’ve never seen Alex like this before.
He reaches across me and collects the photo of the woman’s profile from where I’d placed it on the sofa, slots it back into the box, and replaces the lid. Without looking back at me, he picks the box up and stalks out of the room with it.
I’m left alone, wondering what I’ve inadvertently stumbled across. Who is that girl? It’s obvious it’s someone who means something to Alex. I feel a twinge. Of what, though, I’m not quite sure. Embarrassment? Guilt? Envy? I capture a lock of my hair in my finger and twist it.
Envious of what? Her?
No. It’s got to be guilt. I snooped and got busted.
I hear his footsteps returning to the room. I turn to face him as he walks through the doorway. His shoulders are taut, his lips drawn into a thin line. The look on his face makes my heart thud hard.
I’ve really upset him. I need to fix this. We’ve got to work together, and this is not a great start.
“Alex, I’m really sorry. I assumed they were just more scenic images. I didn’t think they’d be anything . . . personal.”
“I didn’t tell you to look in any other boxes,” he says evenly, his voice low. If I’m to be completely honest, it sounds a little threatening.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind, and you were making coffee, and then you were on the phone and I—” I pause in my rambling as I notice his expression hasn’t changed. “Look, all I can say is I’m sorry. Again.”
“Put the ones you want back in the boxes ,and I’ll help take them to your car. As I said, once you’ve chosen what you want, I’ll send you the files.”
Is he completely ignoring my apology? It was an honest mistake!
“Sure,” I reply uncertainly. I chew on my lip. How do I fix this? How do I undo what I’ve done?
In my defense, it really was an accident. I didn’t mean to stumble across those pictures. But even so, I don’t like the feeling that I’ve somehow hurt him, even if I don’t like him. Which is weird, isn’t it?
We pack the “yes” pile into the boxes, the silence anything but comfortable. Once we’re done, he tucks one box under each arm, and I pick the final box up myself. He leads me toward his front door.
“I’ll, ah, get the door for you,” I say.
“That would be helpful.”
I follow him down the three flights of stairs. Out on the street, he carefully places all three boxes into my car.
I close the door and turn to him. “Really, Alex. I am so sorry.”
His steely gaze is averted. “Yeah, you said that. Quite a few times.” He looks back at me, his features still taut. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Right. Well,” I say with forced brightness, “thanks for these. Can I arrange a time to swing by and collect the others from Cozy Cottage?”
“Give Sophie a call.”
Taken aback, I reply, “Sophie. Yes, of course.”
“See you later,” he mutters as he turns away from me and begins to walk back toward his building.
“Okay, Alex. Thanks again!” I trill and then instantly cringe at the over-the-top sing-song-y tone of my voice.
I climb into my car and close the door behind myself. Wow, I’ve really rattled his cage. As I start the car, I wonder about that woman in the photos? Who is she? And more importantly, what the heck did she do to Alex?