Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Jess
There’s a warm soreness emanating from in between my legs as I come to consciousness. It’s aching to be soothed. I want him to kiss it and make it better. I scrunch my nose and smile against the sheets of his bed.
A warm hand on my abdomen. His hands holding my wrists. The view of him hovering over me. The look on his face as he enters me. I replay the night in my mind, letting the memory warm me, making me clench my thighs together.
Rolling over, I expect to see him there. Honestly, I expected to feel him at my back, cuddling me, but he’s gone. Panicked, I sit up wondering the time, knowing I feel way too rested and freaking out about how, or better yet, why Eden has slept in. She just doesn’t sleep in.
I quickly throw on the pjs that were folded neatly on top of the nightstand and rush over to Eden’s bedroom, finding the door open and the room empty. The sound of Arthur drifts up the stairs al ong with some light baby laughter, so I grab my phone out of my room, then quickly descend down the stairs.
At the foot of the stairs, you can see into the large great room and part of the eat-in kitchen where Eden is sitting in her high chair with Cheerios all over the floor watching Arthur on the large screen over the fireplace. Relief hits me, but then, so does something else. He got up with her?
Alex lazily glides over to the eat-in, cup of coffee in hand, and pulls out a chair beside Eden, a pouch of strawberry beet yogurt in hand.
“Alright, kiddo.” He takes a sip of coffee, then snaps open the seal on the pouched yogurt. “You eating with a spoon yet? Or just taking it straight to the face?”
Eden squeals, and says “Maa!” when she sees me, drawing Alex’s attention with hers.
“Hi,” Alex says, looking sleep-worn and completely adorable. His hair is tousled, he’s got on gray lounge pants and a black t-shirt, and I have this urge to snap a photo of this moment. I don’t want to forget it.
“Hi!” Eden mimics him and I look at her, then back at him. It’s really her first word. Aside from Ma.
My eyes get a bit misty. I walk over and say, “Hi, sweet girl! You said hi!” I laugh. “Hi!” I say it again.
She replies with a “hi” back. Wow. Amazing. I hold up my phone and start a video.
“Hi, baby!” I say in the background and she responds.
“Hi!” She throws her fists down on her tray, sending Cheerios flying off and scattering the floor. I end the recording.
“That’s her first real word,” I say to Alex in awe.
“Wow,” he says with a smile beamin g at me, and then back at Eden. “Looks like I’m a good influence already.” He laughs then offers the pouch to the babe. “Didn’t know if she still did bottles or milk now, so all she’s had is some cereal and a pouch you left in the fridge.”
“Thanks, you didn’t have to get up with her.”
“Yeah, I know,” he says as he helps her squeeze the bottom of the pouch.
Grabbing a bottle from the diaper bag, I find milk in the fridge and start filling it. Before I can even finish, Alex is at my back, wrapping his arms around me with his hands coming to rest on my hips. He places a soft kiss on my neck, making me break out into goosebumps.
“Morning.”
“Good morning,” I respond while screwing the bottle cap on. He pushes my hair over one shoulder and settles in. It’s these moments of vulnerability that I can’t shake. He can be so tender…and loving. It’s not what I pictured him to be like.
“Can I make you a coffee? Need to start learning how you take it…” I take it well. I’d like to take it nightly from now on, preferably from you, and in any hole. (Stahp it, Jessica.)
“Would love that. Splash of cream, please?” I’ll take him with a splash of cream. (I’m like a pubescent teen.)
He releases me so I can give Eden her bottle.
“When’d she get up?”
“About 5.” I check the clock to see it’s 7:30. Crap, they’ve been up for a while and I never even heard them. I must have actually slept like the dead. “So I wanted to talk to you about it last night, but didn’t get the chance,” Alex keeps talking while he puts a fresh pod in the Nespresso. I watch him, noting where the pods are at, and the coffee cups .
“Caleb’s coming for Thanksgiving and he’ll be staying here. So…”
I wait, not sure where this is headed. I push what little yogurt is left to the top of the pouch for Eden. “Sooo….” I giggle back, “Out with it.”
“You should probably just unpack in my room since you’ll be staying in there.”
Heat invades my cheeks, my stomach, and my panties. Yes, because people who are engaged and living together likely share a bedroom. Not mad about it. (Forced proximity for the win.)
“Okay, I will.” I shoot him a smile, all confidence to hide the fact that I want to ask him if he wants me there. Is this okay with him? Does he need some space? I’m starting to feel like he really wants me. Wants me . But I also wonder if we’re falling together like this because of the circumstances.
Don’t know. And maybe, I don’t care.
He gives me a genuine looking smile back. “Also, I need you to make a grocery list. Things you and Eden will eat. I have to run out today, and I’ll pick up whatever we need.” I nod. “And then Brit wants us to bring a dish for Thanksgiving. Any thoughts? Requests?”
She texted Alex that, but not me. Things are worse than I imagined.
“Oh, sure. Let’s make sweet potato casserole.”
“Great. Just need the list of ingredients.”
“Can we come with you?” He gets a little look of surprise.
“You want to?”
“Yeah. Need to get a feel for the place. Start learning the area. ”
“Okay.” He smiles. “I have to pick up some stuff from my old house, and then I could take you to lunch? There’s this old Italian deli near downtown that my mom used to take me to. I think you’d love it.”
“Yes! That sounds amazing.” I don’t have high hopes for an Italian deli in that dusty town at the bottom of the mountain, but getting out (spending time with Alex) and distracting me from everything with Brit sounds amazing.
It’s the smell that’s a dead giveaway. This place is legit.
All authentic Italian delis have a specific smell. It’s the combination of cured meats, oregano, and a hint of garlic. It smells like home. I inhale and take in the wire racks filled with dried pasta, canned tomatoes, crackers and biscuits. I take another big inhale. Oh my gawd, yes. I’m salivating.
In the car, Alex explained he hadn’t been in years, so he hoped he wasn’t setting us up for disappointment, but I know just based on the smell of this place, it won’t disappoint.
We stopped by Georgia’s old house on the way in. He loaded up a cooler and a couple boxes, and then we left. I didn’t even go inside, but I wanted to. Kind of want to see Brit’s childhood bedroom. Want to see Alex’s bedroom, too, because he’s still an enigma to me. There’s a lot of gray area around Alex, and I want to reveal it.
I immediately grab a shopping basket and start loading up with ingredients to make my marinara. (I’ll get pesto ingredients at the grocery later.) I throw some good pasta in, then head to the back wall of refrigerated goods. I grab fresh parm, meatballs, and a couple trays of premade stuffed shells. (I’m starving, can you tell?)
Alex is pushing Eden in her stroller, following me around the tight space, but when we get to the deli counter, he steps up beside me.
When a woman with an old-school guest check pad asks for our order, I let Alex do the ordering for us. (A Marco Polo and a Piedmont Special, two servings of pasta salad, two bags of chips, and two root beers.) And then we trade and he takes the shopping basket from me to go pay while I handle the stroller. It’s oddly fluid how we work together. There’s a give and take. “We’re fucking good together, baby,” replays in my mind and I try to hide the smile that works it’s way on to my face.
After he’s finished paying, Alex finds me perusing the stacks of Toblerone. “Do you want to wait outside? I was thinking we could actually head over to a nearby park to eat.” There’s no eating area at the deli, also typical and legit.
“Sure.” I smile, and wheel the stroller out while Alex holds the door. We’re sort of downtown adjacent . The area is older, a bit rundown, but in a hip way. There’s vintage stores, an old theater that’s playing some indie films, (probably a few tattoo parlors around), and small restaurants littering the main street.
“Georgia used to bring you here?” I ask as we wait together under the fading orange, white, and green striped awning.
“Yeah. Don’t know why, this place just always stuck with me.” It’s the smell. I bet it’s the smell.
“I literally can’t wait to try it. This place looks legit.” I look over and give him a smile. “Thanks for bringing me here.” He reaches a ha nd out, running it across my shoulders and a warmth runs through me.
“I’m gonna go put this stuff in the cooler,” he holds up the plastic bag with my pasta goods. “I’ll be right back.”
Before he leaves, though, he places a kiss on my cheek. But there’s no one around, there’s nothing to show off. It’s starting to all add up, the number of times he’s shown me affection when no one’s been around to see. He’s either method acting…or he likes touching me as much as I like him touching me.
My phone pings and I look down at the text from Damian. I want to be there for him, but it’s a tightrope to walk between Brit and Alex. He’s Brit’s ex and Alex’s best friend. ( Was Alex’s best friend?) I make the call not to respond, which is good because Alex is rounding the corner of the building just as I slip the phone back in my pocket. He got all weird last night when he looked at my phone and presumably saw the texts from Damian, and I definitely don’t want a repeat of that.
I don’t get a chance to greet Alex when the bell above the door rings as a customer comes out, and I can hear them calling our number. He quickly passes me to get the food, then is back out, bags in hand. “You okay to walk? Or we could drive.”
“Walk is good.” It’s nice out again today. Nicer down in the valley than it is in the mountains. It’s sunny in Spearhead, but cold. Down here, it’s sunny and slightly warm. It feels more like a spring day on the East Coast than late November.
It’s just a few minutes walk until we sit down at a bench in an expansive park. He points to the road winding through it and says, “That leads to the zoo. ”
My eyes go wide, “There’s a zoo here?” (I know, I’m acting a bit brand new. I’m just still surprised this place even has a deli.)
He laughs at me. “Yeah, I hear they just got electricity, too.”
I gently shove his shoulder and laugh. “Shut up. I didn’t mean it like that. Just…this place is surprising me. That’s all.”
Alex nods and starts unpacking the bag, laying out my food for me. It’s that orange peel theory, he knows I can do it, but he wants to do it for me. He unrolls the sandwiches, then trades half of mine with half of his so I can try both. (Love that.)
Eden starts squirming and squealing seeing us eat, so I pull her out of the stroller, set her in my lap and feed her bites of pasta.
“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but this,” I motion with my hands around us, “feels like a first date.” I smile at him and he smiles back.
“Yeah, but it wouldn’t be our first date.” I’m sort of taken aback by his comment. Yes, it would be our first date.
“How so?” I ask incredulously.
“At the bar that night. I thought I was meeting you for a date.” I thought he was, too, until I overheard him saying it was just an obligatory courtesy call for an old acquaintance. He said, “She’s nobody. Just need to check the box so I can leave.”
“I thought so, too…” I say, maybe a bit sadly because all I can think about is the hours I poured into getting ready in my hotel that night. The anticipation that kept me from being able to eat anything at lunch. The agonizing choice of what to wear. (Ended up in a slip dress with a blazer over and Prada heels.) I’d felt fucking amazing, on a natural high. Alex, the man I’d been talking to on the phone daily for the past month was finally going to be face-to-face, in person, with me, and we weren’t going to be hovering over a pair gravestones.
“I said I’m sorry,” Alex breaks through the mental fog I obviously slipped into.
“Okay.” That's all I say back, then refocus on eating. Well, that took a turn. (Note: Avoid the past at all costs.)
“We should probably get our stories straight. With the holiday tomorrow. I’m sure people will ask questions.”
I say, “Okay, “ but continue to focus on feeding the baby.
“We met while we were visiting graves at the cemetery. I asked you for coffee and we talked and went on a couple dates prior to your move to DC, but we couldn’t make the distance work.”
I reply with, “Sure,” not looking at him.
“When I saw you in Spearhead this summer, none of my feelings for you had changed.” (Dagger. I imagine what he’s saying is true and it hurts because it’s not.) “And after we sort of cleared the air that day in the kitchen, we reconnected and haven’t spent a day not talking since. Does that work?”
“Definitely.” I cover my mouth to hide the massive bite of mortadella I’m chewing on. I swallow. “How did you ask me to marry you?”
When I look up at him, I don’t love it. We were in this little cocoon of playing house all morning. But just like when you have to stop playing pretend to figure out how to keep going, it’s the same now, and I can practically see the magic fading. Reality sneaks back in, reminding me that he doesn’t actually love me. He never actually proposed. He didn’t really build me our dream house. He loves Amy. He proposed to Amy. Is that A my’s and his dream house? (It’s honestly pathetic being jealous of a dead woman.)
What was quickly becoming my dream feels dirty now. Placeholder. Replaceable. Pawn. (Shut up, little voice!)
He shrugs and puts on a small smile, (which means I’m doing a good job at hiding what I’m thinking) then poses the question back to me, “How would you want to be proposed to?”
I know, you’re probably thinking gallantly. Big. Over-the-top. Extreme. But I’m not. I think those are beautiful, but what would be better is if the person proposing actually meant it. (Depressing, right?)
“Simply. Just at home. Laying on the couch, while watching our favorite movie together. Which is Casino , by the way.” He laughs at that. I was being serious. “And the person proposing,” (notice I don’t say him, though obviously I’m imagining him) “would take my hand in theirs and slide the ring on my finger. It wouldn’t even be a question because we’d already know we belonged together.” I shrug, then help Eden who’s grappling to pick up a bite of rotini pasta.
“Well, we can’t use that then.” I’m wondering why, when he says, “You don’t have a ring.” Right. Obviously.
“Okay, then you come up with it, I don’t care.” I try to keep my tone light and neutral, because that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, right? But I think a hint of agitation makes itself known.
“Okay, then I came to your work at the coffee shop, and wrote on my receipt asking you to marry me.” That’s honestly lame. But I said I didn’t care, so I have to actually not care.
“Fine. How’d you know I was working at the coffee shop, though? ”
“Brit told me.” Right she did.
“Okay. We should probably wrap this up. The cooler needs ice and my grocery list is kind of massive.” I start wrapping up the leftovers and rebagging them, then grab the wipes to clean off Eden.
Alex starts moving, too, and in synchronization we clean up and head for the car. He pushes the stroller with one hand, then reaches down, sliding his other into mine. We hold hands while we walk, and when I look up at him, he looks down on me with a smile.
But I’m wondering, is the smile for me? Or the idea of me?