Chapter Nineteen #2
Of course we’re back to the wedding. “June, maybe? I don’t know, we haven’t talked about it.” Just thinking about planning a wedding with Mrs. Prescott hovering over my shoulder with unsolicited advice makes me want to elope.
“Are you planning on moving to Chicago?”
That’s…an odd thing to ask. “Chicago? Why would we move to Chicago?”
She shifts away, our legs no longer touching, but she turns a little to face me. “I don’t know, isn’t that where Brian is from?”
“Yeah, but we live here.” She stares at me. Searches my face and it makes me wonder why on earth she would ask that.
She nods once. “Okay.”
My skin prickles, and when she doesn’t follow up with an insult about the Cubs, I start to wonder what’s going on. “Did someone say something about us moving to Chicago?”
“No, no,” she says quickly, though I’m not sure I believe her. “I was just curious, that’s all.”
We stare at each other, and when she doesn’t back down, I narrow my eyes. “We’re pretty rooted here.”
She nods. “Got it. Eagles fans through and through.”
“Right,” I say, drawing out the word. The air in the room turns thick with tension. Her phone buzzes, lighting up her screen to reveal a picture of a place I don’t recognize. “Are you still seeing Claudia?”
“Occasionally.”
Jesus Christ, these one-word answers.
“You should invite her to the wedding,” I continue, trying to pull something out of her. Something real and honest and open. Desperate for a conversation like we used to have before this unseen barrier wedged itself between us.
She chuckles and shakes her head. “I’m not sure we’ll still be seeing each other by then.”
Her answer doesn’t surprise me. She hasn’t been serious with anyone ever since she and Trinity broke up. “Oh? How come?”
“It’s…complicated.”
That’s the thing with Alex. Everything is always complicated. Even when it doesn’t have to be. I sigh. “You’re allowed to have a girlfriend, you know. Settle down. Maybe even get engaged.”
Her nose scrunches, and she gives me a disapproving look. “With Claudia?”
“With anybody.”
“Let’s not get carried away.” Her tone is sad. Defeated. I put my hand on her leg. I realize a split second too late that she’s staring at my ring. “I’m never in one place long enough for a serious relationship,” she adds.
“I don’t know,” I say, wanting to keep the attention on her and off any more engagement talk. “You’ve been in London for a long time.”
She looks scandalized. “Definitely time to move, then.”
I don’t find it funny. All her moving around. How the distance she puts between us, physically and emotionally, continues to grow. “Why do you have to be so far away?”
I’m expecting sarcasm. Another dismissal. So when she whispers, “It’s just easier,” it catches me completely off guard. The air shifts into a different kind of tension.
“Easier for what?” I ask just as softly.
This moment is precious. A rare instant of exposed honesty. She takes a shaky breath and holds it for an eternity.
Then she exhales.
“Do you have a dress picked yet?”
Disappointment is an understatement. “No, don’t do that. Don’t shut me out.” She tries to scoot away, but I follow and take her hands and squeeze them. “Please.”
She looks panicked. Her gaze darts around the room, focusing on anything but me. I shift closer still and dip my head, drawing her attention.
“Easier for what?”
“To pretend.”
“To pretend what?”
She swallows. Licks her lips. Hesitates. “To pretend that things haven’t changed between us. That it’s still easy, like it used to be.”
A lump forms in my throat, and my chest tightens. I want things to be easier, too. I want pebbles thrown at my window in the middle of the night. I want us to share bowls filled with popcorn while we’re tucked underneath a blanket. I want the closeness we had before.
“I guess I better get some sleep,” she says when the silence becomes too unbearable.
She carefully slides off the bed, and I let her because what else is there to say? How do you respond when your best friend all but confirms that you’ll never be what you once were? That it’s easier to be friends when we’re apart when all I ever wanted was for us to always be together?
“Does it bother you?” I ask, making her stop, desperate to get another real answer before she shuts me back out. “That I’m engaged?”
She looks confused. “You mean, like, do I think you’re too young?”
“No. I mean, yeah. Maybe?” I shake my head because, no, that’s not at all what I mean. “Just in general, I guess.”
She leans with her back against the door. “Honestly, Jules, the only thing that matters to me is that you’re happy. I don’t care about anything else.”
She smiles softly and slips out into the darkened hallway. I almost believe her.
Alex sneaks into my room early the next morning before anyone is awake and asks if I want to go for a ride before she leaves.
After a quick text explaining to Brian and Chloe where we’ve gone, I get dressed, put on Alex’s spare helmet, and slide on the bike behind her.
When I slip my arms around her midsection, it feels right. Like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
She goes slow through the neighborhood, carefully taking the turns and easing into the drive. But when we reach the country? That’s when she unleashes. I hold her tight, leaning in as close as I can, wishing I could press my cheek against her back so I could feel her warmth against my face.
I watch the sun rise through the trees as she races down the back roads, taking in the way the sky goes from purple and pink to vibrant orange.
I pretend we’re flying somewhere new. Somewhere unexplored where no one else can find us.
I pretend that we don’t have a plane to catch or a wedding to plan.
That it’s just the two of us existing alone in this singular moment.
I savor the flash of happiness, knowing that once the ride is over, the spell will be broken.
We drive until the cool morning air turns hot.
Until the sun climbs higher in the sky and it’s time for Alex to leave.
And when we finally pull up to the front of the house, Brian is waiting.
Even as he stands and descends the stairs toward the driveway, we don’t dare move.
Alex stays bent over as if waiting for a cue to lay on the gas and speed away, taking me with her.
It’s tempting, but it’s well past breakfast, and Brian is waiting.
I carefully untangle myself and step off the bike. She turns to me, her helmet blocking her face, and I think about lifting the visor, aching to see her eyes one more time before she heads back to London. To thank her for the reminder of what we used to be and for the momentary reprieve.
Instead, I remove my helmet and hand it to her, forcing a smile and debating asking if she’d like to come inside. She latches the helmet to the back of her bike. I remain silent, knowing there’s no point in asking her to stay. She never stays.
As if proving my point, she nods once and takes off down the long driveway without looking back, taking my happiness with her.