Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Alex
J
I’ll come with you. Just for Thanksgiving. I’m not sure I can commit to moving there.
A
Just emailed plane tickets. I’ll pick you up from the airport.
K.
K. That was it. Fuck . I should’ve called. I probably should’ve gone up when I walked past her building yesterday afternoon, too. Just felt like if I pushed her, the answer would have been no. To be honest, I don’t know that Jess is going to love living in Spearhead. But sort of like I hope she tries on being married to me and loves it, I’m hoping she’ll do the same here.
Liam’s truck pulls around to the front of the drive at the new house, so I set my to-go coffee on the porch rail and walk out to meet him.
“Your sister’s pissed at you,” he states grimly. I shrug.
“She’ll get over it.” He raises his eyebrows at me, then laughs.
“Better you than me,” he slaps a hand down on my back. “Anyway, you ready to do this? They’ll be here any minute.”
“Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be.” Moving into my first house today. I’m 42 and this is my first house. Hoping it’ll be my home. Moments like this are always a bit bittersweet. I’m not a monster. I still think about Tally. Sometimes about Amy. But it’s not how you think.
It always happens when I move into a new phase of life. With Tally, I wonder if she would’ve liked this house. Would she like Jess? And with Amy, it’s always, she’ll never get to have this. She never got to move into the house of her dreams with the man of her dreams. She never got the Alex who’s settled more with age and isn’t living on the outside. Would she have ever gotten there with me? Or were we always destined to end that day?
I feel like I was always destined to be here with Jess. And I do believe in destiny, in fate, in all that shit. As an operator, most of us have an air of untouchability. Nothing bad can happen. “I can’t die” shit. But inevitably one of you does. And the longer you do the job, the fewer peers you have.
Why am I the one that survived, huh? In some of the instances, it should have been me. I sometimes wonder if the whole reason I joined the Army in the first place was because I’d hoped it’d be me.
Three massive moving trucks descend on my house and I can’t believe it , but I actually get chills. Feels like this is the precipice. The start of my life. Our life, maybe?
Never thought I’d be here. Never .
Jess
If you ever want to be humbled (and quickly), fly cross country with a one year old — alone. With the connecting flight, it was 8 hours of anxious misery. So as soon as we cleared the gate after landing, I burst into tears. (Eden was already crying.)
When she refused her pacifier at take off, I knew it. Right then, I was fucked. And then from there, it was all downhill, just like I thought it would be. She cried the entire first flight while I wanted to cry the entire flight.
People stared, some people complained, but seriously, what do you want me to do? Alex booked us first class, and in this instance, we might have been worse for it. In economy, there’s probably other kids, but in first class, Eden was the only baby. And certainly the only one crying. I tried to reset during the layover (because there’s no direct flights to Hicktown, USA), but nothing did it. We strolled. I rocked her. We tried a bottle. We tried the paci. We changed diapers. Nothing.
One year might be the worst age to fly with. (Yeah, I said it.)
When we finally make it to baggage claim, Eden loses her shit completely. She sc reams bloody murder, and I have the urge to scream with her, but instead, I cry.
“Baby girl, pleaseee.” I’m fucking begging my one-year-old while I try to shush her in between my own tears. I drop my purse on the ground next to the stroller and pick her up. It doesn’t help. She squirms and fights me, all while continuing to scream.
People watch — some with sympathy, some with disdain, some who recognize us from the flight and look like they might give me a piece of their mind. I feel like my chest is on fire, my hands tremble. Sweat rolls down my spine even though it’s probably 65 degrees inside the terminal. It makes me want to give up. It makes me furious. It makes me want to walk off the edge of a cliff and never look back. (I’m just being honest.)
“Whoa,” a deep rumbling voice says. “Hey.” Then a warm hand finds the small of my back. He shushes both of us, “Come here.” And then we’re enveloped in a warm embrace. Eden is still squirming, but she stops screaming.
Have you ever hugged someone and rested all your weight on them in that hug? Your body, your problems, your responsibilities and you just trust that person has you? That’s what this hug with Alex is like. I said I’d never depend on anyone. Ever again. But if I did, if I could, it’d be him.
He runs one of his dinner plate-sized hands down my hair and to my back, eventually stopping just below the curve of my ass. I inhale his warm scent. It’s woodsy and musky, but classic. Like this is what I imagine Tom Selleck smells like. My one free hand has absentmindedly found his chest, and he keeps stroking my head, shushing me lightly. (Snapshot title: “Heart -Wrenching Family Reunion.” ) My heart sinks at the thought. I wish .
“Shhhhh. It’s okay,” Alex says nice and low.
“Our suitcases,” I hiccup on a sob and Eden does the same.
“They’re not going anywhere, let ‘em take a lap,” he says in response. “Give me the baby, Jess.” I pass over Eden and he lets me go in the process.
He puts her over his shoulder and starts rubbing her back and within seconds the little traitor falls asleep. It’s so relieving, I can’t even be pissed about it. Instead, I take a deep inhale and try to catch my breath. Alex is looking at me as he continues to rock Eden against his shoulder. (And my ovaries start to hurt.) Fuck me.
He’s wearing jeans and a plain long-sleeved t-shirt. His hair is about the same length, but he shaved his beard. Suddenly I have the most insane urge to rush him and run my hands along his face in awe. He was handsome before, but now he’s approaching sex-symbol status.
“You shaved,” I say, mouth probably hanging open.
He blushes. “Yeah, figured it was time for a new look.” There’s that little voice at the back of my head wondering: Did he do this…for me? And why does that make me giddy?
It’s a war right now. My body is yearning to throw myself at him, kiss him, love him, but my mind is being rational. It’s thinking cautiously, pragmatically. This is a means to an end. If I have any hope of lasting 12 months without falling (even more) desperately in love with this man, I have to have boundaries. And stick to them.
“Do you mind if I use the bathroom?” I ask. He nods back reassuringly, continuing to rock the sleeping monster .
Picking up my purse off the terminal floor, I walk briskly to the bathroom. I have the most insane urge to rub one out to take the edge off the ache that’s already started in my pelvis. Alex plus babies equals danger zone.
I don’t rub one out, but when I go to the bathroom, I actually laugh when I pull down my underwear revealing what can only be described as something similar to slick. (If you know, you know, my friend.)
I check myself in the mirror after. Face is red and puffy, but at least I refrained from makeup today, meaning I’m not fighting what would surely be a losing battle with mascara. I splash cold water on my face, redo my hair that’s fallen out of its half-up-half-down clip. I dab on a little solid perfume and just accept my leggings, t-shirt, and Converse are entirely basic, and that is entirely fine. Think of it like a boundary holder, I tell myself. The less overt I am at trying for his attention, then maybe he won’t give it. And we can ride this thing out. (I’m now picturing myself riding him.) Mistake.
When I get back to the baggage claim, Alex already has all our bags loaded on a cart and is still holding Eden.
“How’d you do all that one-handed?” I ask in awe.
He shrugs. “An older couple saw you and Eden break down and asked if they could help. Said they should have offered sooner.” Of course, the hot single dad gets help, but the single mother? I hate this fucking world sometimes.
I reach for Eden, but he shakes me off. “Don’t want to wake her up again when we have to put her in the car. You push the suitcases, I’ll get the stroller.” ( We . He said we.) I don’t argue, I just follow him out into the moderate, November, California sun. Okay . Taking a deep breath in. Okay. We can do this, Jess .
This weather is giving me life. It’s maybe 68 degrees, sunny, and Thanksgiving is in two days. I’m starting to understand the West Coast hype.
The airport isn’t huge. There’s not even a parking garage, you just walk out to the parking lot and find your car. I keep following Alex, but don’t see his Jeep anywhere. We come to a stop and the lights flash on a Volvo SUV with 30-day tags.
“You got a new car?” I ask, astonished. He’s always had his Jeep. It’s a matte green, old Jeep. I mean, really old. Like he’s had it for decades and it was old when he got it. There’s a story to it, he told me once, but that’s neither here nor there.
He smiles at me. “No, but you did.” Oh . I immediately want to tell him it’s too much, but he stops me. “It’s a safety thing. I can’t have the two of you in the Jeep, okay?” It immediately shuts me up. Understood .
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” I just accept it because he’s right.
“Go get in the car, I’ve got this.”
I look at the baby on his shoulder, the stroller and car seat, the three suitcases. “Don’t be ridiculous. Give me Eden while you install the carseat.”
“I’ve got a car seat already installed. Let me get this, okay?” Alex moves towards me. He puts a hand on my hip and drags me a little closer. My breathing halts at his touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t fly with you. I should have been there. Won’t happen again.” And then he leans down and kisses me. On the lips. He kisses me, and…and it’s not for show. My heart thunders, heat floods my panties, and my tongue slips into his mouth. He pulls away with a gentle chuckle. “At least let me get E down first, okay?”
I nod and stand there like an idiot when he moves around to the back seat to put Eden in her rear-facing car seat. It’s a Nuna, a good one, too. He researched it. Fuck. How am I not supposed to fall head over heels for him? How am I supposed to not throw myself at him? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen right? I fall in love with my soon-to-be husband? (Can’t fall in love when you already are, though.) A husband I have to be with for at least a year. I might as well enjoy it…right?
I slide the two smaller suitcases in the trunk, break down the stroller and old car seat. I put my purse in the front seat and open the backseat to set the diaper bag down. As I do, I see Alex gently tucking Eden into her seat. He slowly moves her arms through the straps and clips everything in silently. It’s so stealthy, and a miracle Eden has remained asleep. And that’s when it grips me.
I might as well enjoy it, right? Wrong. You only reach stealth level of parenthood through doing. He’s done all this before — for his own daughter. And with his actual wife. I’m just a cheap knockoff.
I take a deep breath, shut the backseat door quietly, and climb into the front passenger seat to wait.
“You’re being quiet,” Alex says as we drive out of town (past The Boot Barn) and weave through the foothills.
“Just tired.” I give him a weak smile, then look back at the road. “It’s been a long day.” It’s the truth. I was up at 4:00 A.M. and that was Eastern time. It's now 4:00 P.M. Pacific. I just want to get to the house and sleep, but that's doubtful. I’ll still need to get everything set up. Get a changing station ready. Sheets on the Pack ‘n Play. (I asked him to pick one up.) Feed Eden dinner. Set up the monitor.
I’ve tried to have no expectations of his house. He’s told me almost nothing about it except it’s in Spearhead. How many beds does it have? No clue. (Hopefully more than one, though). Is there a bathtub? I dunno. This could be a really short trial stay, in which case I’ll be back in New York by next week where I think it’ll be a lot easier to pretend to be married. (Well, soon-to-be married.)
“Okay,” Alex says after a little, but I notice the furrow in his brows. “Feel free to nap then. We have about 40 more minutes.”
“Okay.” I recline my seat and close my eyes, turning on my side, but I can’t sleep. Not possible when I keep getting whiffs of his cologne, and then he reaches over and gently pushes a lock of hair off my face. Then the back of his thumb strokes my cheek. (You know, just for good measure.)
I sort of want to open my eyes and beg him not to do that. Please don’t make me love you anymore, please! But I don’t. I keep pretending to sleep and for the rest of the drive he reaches over to touch me in some way every few minutes. There’s one of his bear paws settled gently on my hip. Then there’s a thumb that strokes my open hand. There’s fingers that trace my hairline softly. Until eventually, I do actually drift away where I dream of large hands spreading my legs wide and a warm tongue laving at my clit. I moan and wake myself up. Fuck .
My eyes stutter open and I see Alex adjusting his jeans to accommodate his growing cock. Fuck me. Now I’m thinking about his cock. It’s beautiful. Really. It has this curve — (no, you’re right.) This train of thought isn’t going to help me with boundaries.
“Almost home,” he says to me quietly because Eden is still racked .
I increase the incline of my seat so I’m sitting up just as we drive through the main strip of town. Every time I’ve been here before, it’s been as a visitor. Didn’t have much skin in the game as far as the town of Spearhead goes, or what it offers. But now that I might actually live here, I’m staring at the businesses, examining them intently with a new lens.
On the right, we have a small grocery store, Bob’s Grocery. (I swear to god that’s the name. You can’t make this shit up.) And I mean it’s really small. That’s not gonna work. Next, a gas station with a convenience/liquor store attached. Gonna need that. And there’s a diner…that’s not open. Okay .
On the other side of the road is a restaurant and bar (Colton’s). Still haven’t been, still want to. Brit has stories about that place. (Bonus, the owner is a hottie.) (Brit’s words, not mine.) Then the coffee shop that Brit’s in-laws (Liam’s parents) own. And honestly, their cappuccinos aren’t shit. So, really, for this zero-stoplight town, it’s impressive. And then there’s Maggios, the pizza place. Never eaten at the restaurant, but Liam picked it up on one of Carly’s days off and it was surprisingly good. It’s not New York style, but still good.
Each of the businesses is practically a carbon copy of the others. It looks like someone ordered six log-cabin kits from a Sears catalog, thus founding the town of Spearhead. (Not joking.)
This place doesn’t make me feel claustrophobic like Brit’s place on Robles did. (Or what’s the opposite of claustrophobia? Fear of wide open spaces. That’s what I have.) The evergreens tower and shade every spare inch of space. They crowd you in, sort of like the skyscrapers do. And so, if I just close my eyes and play a track of the city, I could pretend I’m home. Except instead of the smell of methane and sulfur, there’s a distin ct earthy smell to this place. It doesn’t smell like a Christmas tree. It just smells damp, but also fresh. It’s astringent, but in a soothing way. Hard to describe, but…I don’t hate it.
Alex looks over, a smile on his face. “Almost there.” If I didn’t know better, I’d think he actually looked…excited. It makes me excited. I bite down on my lip to hide a smile and wonder what this next chapter of my life will look like.