Chapter Thirty-One
Julia
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
Chloe squeezes me so tightly, I’m barely able to breathe. But it doesn’t matter. I squeeze her back, finding it hard to let go. “I’m going to miss you, too.”
“And you.” I can hear the whoosh leave Alex’s mouth when Chloe flings herself at her next. “You better take care of her,” Chloe warns in a loving kind of way.
Alex wraps her arms around her. “I will.”
Chloe pulls away and wipes at her eyes. “It’s weird that I’m the one going, and you’re the one staying.”
Alex sniffles, and I can tell she’s struggling not to cry. “Yeah, I kind of like being on this side for a change.”
We share a smile.
The airport is busy, and we’re blocking the drop-off lane, but I don’t care.
The last time I said good-bye to Chloe was when we were heading off to college.
Yes, it was emotional, and yes, we cried like a couple of hormonal teenage girls, but we knew we were a few hours’ drive away.
This? This feels heavier. A more grown-up, serious kind of good-bye.
We can’t just hop in our cars when we’re missing each other.
Seattle is “you need a plane ticket” kind of far.
There’s a big difference.
My lower lip quivers, and another tear escapes. “You’ll call me all the time?”
“All the time,” she promises. “And you’re both still planning on coming to visit this June?”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Alex promises.
Chloe tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “I’m going to miss you both,” she says again.
I take another shuddering breath. Alex takes my hand and holds on tightly.
Something Chloe definitely notices. “I’m glad you two have each other.”
I reach for her with my free hand and pull her in for another hug. The three of us meet for a best friend three-way embrace right in the middle of the sidewalk outside of Reagan National Airport.
“I love you both so disgustingly much.” Chloe says, the first one of us to pull away.
She grabs her carry-on and moves quickly toward the entrance, like if she stays any longer, she won’t be able to bring herself to board her plane.
But Dominic is already in their new apartment waiting, and Chloe has a brand-new life on the west coast to get to.
“Text me when you land,” I call before she passes through the doors.
“I will,” she says, turning just long enough to blow us a kiss and flash us heart hands before disappearing inside.
I stand there staring at the door, half expecting her to come bursting back through for one last hug.
Alex puts her arm around me. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie.
She tucks me into her side. “Do you want to go get some hot cocoa and visit a bookstore before heading home?”
I nod against her shoulder. “Yes, I do.”
She squeezes me again, making no effort to move.
Chloe leaving is hard. It makes my chest hurt in a different kind of ache.
But Alex staying is like a balm to my splintered heart.
The steam rolls off my scorching hot tea, creating smoke spirals that twist in the winter air.
I lean against the banister of my third-floor apartment and pull my cardigan a little tighter over my shoulders.
My view overlooks the parking lot, and I watch as someone brushes off their car in an attempt to escape.
The clouds cover the sun, making the overcast sky hazy and hinting at the possibility of a fresh coat of snow. Even though I’m ready for winter to be over, there’s something about snow on Valentine’s Day that’s kind of romantic.
The familiar sound of Betty catches my attention, and I turn in time to see Alex carefully maneuver into one of my two barely plowed parking spots, Tears for Fears blasting loudly from within.
Feeling playful, I scoop a handful of snow off my balcony and launch a lopsided snowball at her back when she steps out of the car.
It misses by a mile.
She looks around, confused, until her gaze lands on me holding back a laugh. “Wow,” she calls out from below. “Good thing you have terrible aim.” She leans back into her car.
When she turns again, my snowball pegs her right in the face.
She freezes, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other and a face full of dripping snow. She shakes it off and attempts what I believe is a glare. “And to think, I come bearing gifts.”
“Get up here, and I’ll make it up to you,” I promise.
“You better.” She rubs her jacket sleeve across her face, and this time, I know she’s scowling. She marches to the front of the building, and I snag my own set of flowers already in a vase on the counter, along with a wrapped box, and wait for her in the doorway.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her when she makes her way down the hall. Once she reaches my apartment, I produce the flowers from behind my back. “Forgive me?”
“Is this how you plan to make it up to me? I was defenseless.” She puts the grocery bag down just inside my apartment and takes the flowers. She narrows her eyes, but I can see the trace of a smile when she brings the array of roses to her nose.
“I might have another trick up my lingerie for later,” I tease.
“Now we’re talking.” She leans in for a kiss, handing me the bouquet she brought for me. “Happy love day.”
“Happy love day.” I smell one of the peonies and reveal the box I kept hidden behind my back.
Her eyes light up. “Oh, chocolate.”
I smell the flowers again. “These are beautiful, thank you.” I bring the groceries into the kitchen. “How was your trip?”
She slips off her coat, hangs it on the hook by the door, and steps out of her boots. “Boring.”
I have exactly one vase, so I attempt to combine my flowers with hers into one large arrangement. “And your parents are okay keeping Ripley through the weekend?”
She unloads the groceries. “I think they’re loving it, actually. Mom keeps calling him her fur grandbaby.”
My stomach does an unexpected and weird twist at the word baby. A sudden image of a mini-Alex flashes in my mind. “That’s really cute,” I say, but I’m not sure if it’s in reference to her story or the idea of having a baby with my best friend.
I wrap my arms around her for another kiss, keeping that particular thought to myself. “Thanks for picking up groceries. I think we might end up getting snowed in. It’s supposed to start up again any minute.”
For a long time, the thought of going out to celebrate made me cringe.
That’s all Brian and I did. Even when I suggested trying something new, it was always the fanciest, most expensive place.
At the time, it grew tiresome, getting dressed up for a meal when I was usually too tired to enjoy the glitz of it all.
Looking back, I realize that was just Brian.
That was what he was used to growing up, and that was his way of showing he cared.
So it’s a little weird to feel disappointed that Alex and I won’t be able to go out for our first Valentine’s Day together as girlfriends.
As if sensing my disappointment, she kisses me again. “I’ll take you somewhere awesome for your birthday to make up for it,” she promises. “But just so you know, I love staying in and cooking with you.”
“You do pan-fry a mean steak,” I mumble against her chest.
“Wait until you see what I plan on making for dessert.”
I perk up at the prospect of her baking.
“While we wait for the steaks to come to room temperature…” She slips her cold hands underneath my shirt, and I shriek when they press against my skin.
“I haven’t seen you for almost a week, and I’d really like to see this lingerie you mentioned.
” She squeezes my breasts, and I moan. Staying home has its perks.
I think I’m in love.
The three-story colonial is right on the edge of a cul-de-sac in a quiet little neighborhood in the suburbs. The homeowners have already moved out, so the house is completely empty. Which only makes it easy to envision just how I’d furnish the place.
“I can almost see it,” I tell Alex excitedly once we’ve toured the entire house.
“The Christmas tree over there, your sofa here, and the TV there.” I point everything out, setting the stage like a set designer.
The hardwood is gorgeous and new, so I wouldn’t cover it, but a nice area rug underneath the sofa and coffee table would look great.
It’s an open floor plan, and I look through the spacious kitchen to the large windows that show the fenced backyard. The deck is made of Trex, and beyond that is a good-sized yard with a spattering of trees. I can envision a playground like the one I had growing up.
“The garage is great, too. Plenty of room for Betty and your bike.”
“And sidewalks,” Alex points out, still standing by the bay window in the front of the house, her hands shoved deep inside her pockets.
“Yes! And sidewalks.” I sigh wistfully. “I love this house.”
Alex smiles. “I do, too.”
I narrow my eyes. I’ve walked through about two dozen houses with her these past couple of months, and for every single one, she’s had a lot to say.
Both good and bad, pointing out everything from the size of the rooms to the shape of the appliances and critiques on paint color.
This walk-through, she’s been uncharacteristically silent, hanging back and letting me lead.
“Is that all you have to say? You’ve been awfully quiet this entire time.”
“That’s because I’ve seen it. About a month ago,” she answers before I can ask.
“And…” She draws the word, continuing before I have time to process that she saw this house a month ago and not once mentioned it.
She pulls a keychain with two golden keys from her pocket. “I closed on her this morning.”
I stare for a moment, taking a beat for her words to sink in. “The house is yours? This house?”
“This house,” she confirms.
“Oh my God, Alex.” I lunge at her, and she barely has time to catch me as I wrap my legs around her waist and my arms around her neck. “Oh my God!”
She laughs and spins me around once before gently placing me on the ground. My arms stay around her neck, and I kiss her, happy and so, so proud.
“I can’t believe this is your house,” I mutter against her lips.
She presses her forehead to mine and squeezes my waist. “Not just mine. I want this to be your house, too.”
A kitchen that looks into the main room, a bay window for a Christmas tree, a suburban house nestled by a cul-de-sac. A backyard that can hold a swing set. Alex looked for these things. Because she wants to make this place her home. With me.
When I don’t respond right away, she must get the wrong idea because her smile falters. “Whenever you’re ready,” she says, and I can hear the apprehension in her voice.
I’d head down to the U-Haul and get a truck this very second if there weren’t real-world logistics to work through, like figuring out how to get out of the contract to my apartment and how much it will cost to do so.
Yet the idea of creating a life with her, here, in this perfect house, makes me feel as though I’m floating. “I’m ready right now.”
She smiles in relief, and I take her face, and kiss her slowly and deeply.
I think I’ve always been ready.