Chapter Thirteen #2
I stood at the edge of the kitchen and watched Alex work, trying to be upset with Mia and Kitty. What was sexier than a man in a tux cooking a fancy dinner with you in a sardine can–sized kitchen?
“Jo?” Alex said, and I blinked.
“Huh?”
“You’re doing that staring thing again.”
“Oh.” I released my lip, not realizing I’d been biting it. “I think I should get ready.” I pointed down the hall to my room. “Thanks for saving me.”
Alex kept his eyes on me as he sautéed the asparagus, flipping them in the pan without having to look. “I seem to remember you saving my cooking once. Did you really think I’d let you serve Lean Cuisines at a dinner party?”
I let out a breathy laugh. Alex’s hair had grown messier as he cooked.
And in that moment, when his almost smile lifted into something real, my fingers ached to brush the hair from his eyes.
Eyes that made me think of the first sip of coffee in the morning, or licking brownie batter off a spoon.
Oh God, I’ve lost it, I thought, and forced myself to my room before I could say or do something I’d regret.
—
After we’d finished cooking and set the table (including a few candles I’d hesitantly lit), Alex hooked his phone up to the TV, and jazz played softly in the living room.
“Artie Shaw,” he said, as if I knew anything about it.
He’d been quiet ever since I emerged from my bedroom dressed for the evening.
You look beautiful, he’d said, but I wasn’t sure he meant it, because when we stepped into the living room, he sat as far away from me as possible.
With the lighting and the music, I kept daydreaming he’d cross the room and kiss me.
But he only sat there bouncing his foot up and down as he rambled on about the differences between early jazz and swing music.
He kept his eyes on his phone as he talked, hardly looking at me at all.
Captain Xav was the first to arrive, wearing the same suit he always did whenever the guests on the boat invited him to dinner.
Belva came soon after, winking at me as she sat beside him on the couch and coyly adjusted the skirt of her jacket dress.
How was it that Belva, a woman in her seventies, had more game than I did?
Though based on some of her stories, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Mia, Kitty, and Greyson finally returned.
They shouted hello, then disappeared onto the patio, probably trying to stay out of arm’s reach of me.
I scolded Ollie for his informal light-washed jeans and tuxedo shirt when he appeared.
Nina showed up fifteen minutes late and barely fit through the door in a ball gown that, with its geometrically structured bodice and a rainbow chiffon skirt, looked like something off a runway and took up nearly half my living room.
In each hand she carried a pitcher of Drunken Joeys, my signature cocktail.
I took the pitchers from her. “Not exactly fancy dinner party drinks, but thanks.” She waved me away, her chest heaving, and I wondered how tight she’d tied herself into that dress.
The dinner began simply enough. I called everyone to the table, which was actually my kitchen table with a card table pushed against it.
Ollie expressed his surprise at my wonderful cooking, and I admitted it was all Alex, except for the deviled eggs and salad.
The Drunken Joeys disappeared quickly, so I brought out the wine I’d bought for the occasion.
The conversation flowed easily, and even Captain Xav, usually silent at all social events, joined in, telling us about how he’d helped Alex get his first yachting gig.
Captain Xav leaned back in his chair and sighed, rubbing at his beard with a hand.
“I took one look at his résumé and told my buddy he was the guy for the job. How could he not hire a guy named Ocean to be a yacht chef?”
“Ocean?” Nina said. “Have you had too much to drink, Cap?” She leaned over to grab his wineglass, but he pulled it from her reach.
“It’s his name!”
Alex reddened and shook his head, looking down at his plate.
“It’s true,” Greyson said. “He thinks it’s embarrassing, which it definitely is, so he goes by his middle name. Marla and Tom—”
“Grandma and Grandpa,” Alex interrupted.
“Marla and Tom,” Greyson repeated, “said something about naming all their kids after the magic that surrounded them when they were conceived, so—”
“All right,” Alex said, dropping his fork onto his plate. “You are officially no longer allowed to talk to your grandparents without me present.”
I pointed my fork at him. “Have you been lying to us about this very important information, Ocean Hayes?”
“Ocean Alexander Hayes,” Greyson said.
“You knew my parents were hippies,” he said. “When I told you there are some weird names out there, I was speaking from experience.”
“I was at Woodstock, you know,” Belva said, earning herself an impressed glance from Captain Xav.
“You were conceived on a boat, weren’t you, bud?” Ollie said. “What’re your siblings’ names?”
“Summer and River,” Greyson said.
“At least my name suits me better than my sister’s,” Alex said. “Summer is a skiing instructor in Colorado.”
Nina held a hand over her heart. “You’re kidding.”
“One hundred percent serious. My brother, River, is an accountant. No good jokes there.”
“I think Ocean is a wonderful name,” Nina said. She turned to Ollie. “And Oliver is a perfectly good name too. I don’t know why you don’t use it.”
“Lay off it, Neen.”
Nina glared at him, and I sensed the tension between them getting into dangerous territory. I turned to Greyson, hoping to steer the conversation elsewhere. “We missed you at the thrift store this morning.”
Greyson, who’d been giggling with Kitty, looked up at me. “Oh, yeah,” she said, the laughter draining from her face. “I, uh, wish I could’ve gone.”
Alex stilled and kept his eyes on his plate. So the family thing hadn’t been for fun.
A hush fell over the table. Plates were empty, and the energy of the party was fading fast. “Dessert!” I cried, and left for the kitchen after telling Mia and Kitty to help clear the dishes. Fortunately, my guests rallied at the sight of key lime pie.
Alex took a bite and looked up at me. He pointed to the key lime pie with his fork. “Did you make this?”
Busted. “If by ‘make this’ you mean ‘picked it up from the Publix bakery,’ then yes.”
Smaller conversations broke out around the table.
Nina leaned against Ollie’s shoulder, the two of them talking in hushed voices.
Alex had Mia, Kitty, and Greyson enraptured as he told them about the time his parents had “accidentally” taken them camping at a naturalist resort.
I couldn’t hear what Belva and Captain Xav were talking about, but both were smiling.
I sat back in my chair, content to watch.
Those first two years after leaving North Carolina, I’d fall into bed each night, achingly lonely and missing my family.
I still missed my sister and Mark, and the girls when they weren’t here, but things were different now.
I thought about the trip to Europe I didn’t take and was grateful for the screwup that had sent Mia and Kitty here for the summer.
As I looked around the table, my heart was filled with more happiness than I’d had in months.
My eyes settled on Alex, who was giving the finale to his story and had the girls doubled over in laughter.
Maybe Nina was right. Maybe I didn’t want to be alone after all.
—
When Ollie, Nina, Belva, and Captain Xav left—Nina rather drunkenly on Ollie’s arm and both tripping over the skirt of her dress—I stood at the doorway and watched them walk across the parking lot.
Their laughter echoed back to me, and I rested my head against the doorframe, trying to etch this moment of perfect contentment in my mind.
I wanted to remember the warmth spreading from my chest all the way to my fingers (though maybe that was the wine).
When their voices faded, I returned inside and kicked off my shoes, feeling silly in my floor-length gown now that the party was over.
Marvin Gaye had replaced the jazz, and I danced my way through the condo.
Candlelight cast a dreamy glow on the faces of Mia, Kitty, and Greyson, who dipped their fingers in the wax of an extinguished candle, tapping them along the table once the wax had hardened.
On my way to the kitchen I gave each of them a kiss on the head, Greyson included, counting them in my mind.
One, two, three. I’d missed the cadence of that.
Always, every summer, one, two, three. When I took the kids to the store, or the beach, or the zoo.
Each night before I went to bed: one, two, three.
But this summer it had been one, two, one, two. Off rhythm, off beat, off balance.
I found Alex at the sink. He’d removed the jacket of his tux and loosened his bow tie.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled above the elbows as he washed dishes.
His hair was fully disheveled now and had fallen into his eyes.
He raised his gaze to mine, and when he smiled, the warmth in my chest spread right through me.
So there was something sexier than a man in a tux cooking dinner.
Still dancing, I crossed the kitchen and stood beside him. “What do you think you’re doing? Guests don’t do dishes.”
I tried to push him away from the sink, but he didn’t budge.
Alex pulled a plate from the soapy water, watching me as he passed a dish towel over it. “Did you ever think that maybe I like doing dishes? Would you really rob me of one of the few joys I have in this life?”
I took the dry dish from his hands and danced over to the cabinet to put it away. “No one likes to do dishes, Alex. Or is this Ocean talking? I’m sure Ocean loves to do dishes.”
“Oh no. Ocean hates doing dishes. He likes much more exciting things than Alex.”