25. Alex
25
ALEX
“ W ow, you’re right. This place really is a dump.”
Nora smacks my arm as she closes the door to her apartment behind me. “Really? That’s really how it’s going to be when I welcome you into my inner sanctum?”
I laugh. “I’m kidding. It’s very cozy.” I move a little farther, taking in everything around me. She was telling the truth about the outdated appliances, but the room still feels homey with white cabinets, bright yellow walls, and a collection of framed flower prints hanging in the few open spaces. A set of purple and white coffee mugs hangs from hooks over the sink.
She went back to cooking as soon as she let me in, and her back is to me as she flips something at the tiny two-burner stove.
“It smells great in here. What are you making?”
“French toast. It’s almost ready. There’s coffee on that cart over there if you want some.”
Three steps get me across the whole kitchen to the cart that protrudes into the living room. I pour myself a cup and survey the rest of the apartment. The living room isn’t much bigger than the kitchen, but it doesn’t feel cramped. Directly across from me is a door I assume goes to her bedroom. To my right is a worn leather couch, flanked by two tall floor lamps. To my left, two bookshelves line the wall, with a basket of throw blankets in between them.
“Make yourself at home,” she says. “I’ll bring you a plate in just a minute.”
I wander over to the shelves and tilt my head to read the spines lined up in neat rows, arranged in alphabetical order by author’s last name. It would appear that mysteries and thrillers are her favorite genres, though I do see a fair number of interesting non-fiction titles interspersed.
I lower myself onto the couch and rest my elbows on my knees just as she approaches with two full plates. She sets them on the coffee table in front of me, which is set like a dining room table with forks and napkins.
“I thought you said you were going to throw together something simple.” My mouth waters at the sight of a tall stack of French toast, the slices thick and golden brown. She’s drizzled a generous amount of some kind of purple sauce over them and dusted the whole thing with powdered sugar. It’s almost too pretty to eat.
Almost.
“Nothing simpler than French toast. I hope you like blackberries.” She’s watching me, gauging my reaction with a look of eagerness.
“I certainly do. This looks amazing, Rose.”
Her smile is bright and satisfied. “Well, what are you waiting for? Eat up!”
“Bon appétit.” I reach over and clink my fork with hers before diving in. I can’t control the moan of pleasure that escapes me when the sweet tang of the berries bursts on my taste buds. The toast itself is cooked to perfection—slightly crisp on the outside and soft on the inside.
“Seriously, how is this so good?” I ask between bites. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to refute my claim that you are a kitchen fairy. This is truly magical.”
She laughs and looks pleased by my praise as she takes a bite of her own toast.
“Well, what do you think of my apartment? That was your main purpose in coming here today, wasn’t it? I’m anxious to hear your assessment.”
I lower my fork and look around, pretending to study the room. The fact is, I made up my mind about this place almost as soon as I walked in.
“I like it. It feels very you.”
She narrows her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” I struggle to put this feeling into words. “It feels warm and inviting and comfortable. You said the lack of windows makes it dark, but you’ve made it glow somehow.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome.” I pick up my plate and resume eating. A bit of powdered sugar falls from the edge of my plate and dusts the knee of my black slacks. I attempt to brush it off, but end up creating a cloudy white smudge instead.
“I’m sorry,” Nora says, gesturing to the mess. “This is the hazard of eating without a table. Now you see why I don’t have people over.”
“Nonsense. I sit behind a desk all day, so no one will even see this, and even if they did, it was totally worth it.” I accentuate my statement with another big bite.
“Even still, I think I’ll keep cooking at your place.”
“You know that’s fine by me. You’re welcome to make as much food as you want, even if I have to put in extra gym time.”
She laughs. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m totally serious.” I cover my heart with my hand. “I’ve had to add two extra workouts per week since we started the show to balance out all the ridiculously good food you’ve been leaving for me.”
“Your words say you’re annoyed, but your face says you like it.”
Another clump of sugar drops as laughter shakes my fork. “Like I said a minute ago, it’s all totally worth it.” Not just for the great food, but for the company. Would it be weird to tell her how much she’s assuaged my loneliness? I haven’t thought about getting a pet in weeks, except once when I passed a man on the sidewalk carrying a parrot on his shoulder. I briefly imagined what it would be like to have a pet who could talk. But then I remembered a childhood friend of mine who had parakeets growing up and the feathers that seemed to end up all over his house, no matter how diligently he cleaned up around the cage, at which point I decided I’m not a bird guy.
Before I can decide whether or not to share any of this, she surprises me with a question. “You were engaged once, right? You said you might tell me about it the next time we were together.”
I pause with a bite of toast halfway to my mouth, startled into stillness by the abrupt change of topic. I catch myself and snap out of it, putting the bite in and chewing slowly to buy myself some time. This is not a conversation I’d planned on having today. All of a sudden, I feel hot, like someone lit a fireplace in here.
After an awkward moment of silence, Nora forces a smile. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you about that. You don’t have to answer.”
“No, it’s okay.” I put down my mostly empty plate, my appetite diminishing as a knot forms in my stomach, and rest my elbows on my knees. My hands are clenched tightly in front of me. “Yes, I was engaged a few years ago. Obviously, we didn’t get married. I think I told you that she wasn’t faithful.”
Nora nods. “You did. Do you ever miss her?”
“No.” I can answer that promptly and truthfully. “It came as a shock when it happened—it was all very dramatic—but it didn’t take me long to realize I was better off without her.”
She looks curious but doesn’t push. Much to my surprise, I feel a compulsion to tell her the whole ugly story. There’s something in me that thinks getting it out there is the right thing to do, even if it makes her realize that I’m not the guy for her. There’s no way someone as sweet as Nora couldn’t see me differently after she learns what I did. But that doesn’t stop me from opening my mouth and letting it all spill out in a big gross pile of word vomit.
“She was actually engaged to someone else before me—Grant.”
I watch as she processes this, a flicker of surprise flashing across her face. “Your brother Grant?”
I nod. “They had been engaged for a few months when Marissa came to my house crying one night. She told me that she and Grant had had a fight and broken up. I tried to calm her down and tell her that it would be okay, that they would get back together once they talked it out, but she insisted that it was over. She was so upset that she was shaking, and I didn’t think she should drive. I offered to take her home, but she didn’t want to be alone, so I let her sleep on my couch that night.”
Looking back through the jaded lens of experience, I can see how that was just the first in a long line of manipulations and corresponding bad decisions.
“Why did she come to you when they broke up?” Nora looks confused and rightly so. It’s a question I wish I’d had the presence of mind to ask that evening.
“I think she was tired of Grant and wanted something new and exciting, and she knew I wouldn’t turn her away. She was my brother’s fiancée. I wanted to take care of her.”
Nora nods sympathetically, but I haven’t gotten to the worst part of the story yet.
“The next morning, she was much calmer. She thanked me for taking such good care of her and left. But then she texted me later that day and again that evening.” I pause, trying to figure out the best way to explain what happened next. “I’d never spent much time around Marissa. She was a few years older than me, and I didn’t really know her outside of her relationship to Grant. But we got together for dinner that night and we had a good time. And she told me she thought she’d been in love with the wrong brother.”
Nora’s brows are pulled together, her face a mask of skepticism and confusion.
“I was flattered, you know?” I sigh and rub my hands over my face and through my hair. “Grant is my big brother, and I’ve always looked up to him. He always seemed so effortlessly calm and confident and capable. He’s smart and successful and all the red flags that should have been waving in front of me were hidden behind my desire to believe that I was actually good enough to be chosen over him.”
It feels shameful to admit that awful motivation out loud, and I feel sick to my stomach as I prepare to continue. Nora’s features have smoothed out, and she’s watching me calmly and quietly, like she’s making a conscious effort not to react. I almost wish I could see some hint of what she’s thinking, even if it’s terrible. The suspense of waiting for her verdict is killing me, so I push on, thinking to get this over with as quickly as possible.
“A few weeks after we started seeing each other, Grant stopped by my house while Marissa was there. He walked in on us snuggled up on the couch together and exploded. Turned out, Marissa had been lying about breaking up with him. She’d been seeing both of us.”
Nora shakes her head slowly, her eyes locked on me as she listens to my soap opera. “That’s horrible. But why did you stay with her after you found out she hadn’t been truthful?”
I chuckle mirthlessly and focus my eyes on the geometric pattern of the rug underneath her coffee table. “If I had a dollar for every time I’ve asked myself that over the last few years, I would buy you a private island and a jet to get there. I think it came down to me just believing what I wanted to believe. She told me that it was a mistake, that she’d told Grant they were done and he hadn’t believed her, that she was falling in love with me. And I wanted that to be true, so I went along with it.”
The feel of her hand on my arm surprises me, and I look up, expecting to see revulsion. Instead, she just looks…sad. Probably because it’s so pathetic that I let myself believe the obvious poppycock that Marissa fed me. Or maybe she’s embarrassed for me. Or regretting that she asked to hear this story instead of just enjoying her French toast.
“What happened next? How did you two break up?”
“We almost didn’t.” Every time I think about this part, an immense feeling of relief overrides the pain. “We were literally standing at the altar when a guy I didn’t know came down front and begged Marissa not to marry me. He claimed they’d been seeing each other and that he was in love with her. She told him to leave, but then he showed me a photo on his phone of him and Marissa kissing. She had her hand on his face, and she was wearing the engagement ring I gave her. Something clicked and I finally understood what kind of woman she was.” I could go on and tell her all the other things that should have clued me in before that moment, but I think that’s enough for now.
“Wow,” Nora murmurs, her eyes wide. She squeezes my arm where her hand still rests, comforting me whether she means to or not. “You weren’t kidding when you said it was dramatic. But at least you realized the truth before you married her.”
“It’s my only comfort in all that mess. It was a dark few years for me. The whole thing almost destroyed my relationship with my family, especially Grant. We’re good now, but we didn’t talk for over a year after he found us together.”
“Wow,” she says again. We sit silently for a moment, the weight of my confession heavy in the room. “I feel like this explains why we haven’t…you know, why there’s nothing between us even though it seems like we both feel something. I was afraid it had something to do with me, but I can see why you’d be hesitant with anyone.”
The vulnerable look on her face guts me. “It has nothing to do with you, Rose. It’s about me. You don’t want to be with a guy like me. I’m not a good guy.”
“That’s not what I heard just now.”
I snort. “Maybe I didn’t tell it right, then. Because I’m definitely one of the villains in that story. What kind of guy does the things I did?”
“One who is young and confused,” she says calmly. “One who now clearly regrets the bad decisions he made. I’m pretty sure villains are only regretful when their evil plans are foiled.” She pauses to smile and scoot closer to me. “We all make mistakes, Alex.” She raises her hand. “Long-term secret hider over here, remember?”
I chuckle at that. “Somehow that doesn’t seem as bad as stealing your brother’s girlfriend.”
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “You didn’t steal her unless you didn’t tell me the real story. It sounds like she had a wandering eye and decided to pursue you. Should you have turned her down? Yeah, probably.” She pauses. “Well, not probably. You definitely should have fled for the hills much sooner. But all’s well that ends well, right?”
“I guess so. You know, if things hadn’t happened exactly as they did, Grant wouldn’t have met Annie. So in that respect, I suppose it was all for the greater good.”
Nora smiles. “See there?”
I smile, then glance at my watch and wince. “I need to get going. Thanks for breakfast. It was really delicious, even if you did make me spill my guts.”
When I stand, she rises with me. “I didn’t ‘make’ you do anything. How could I when you’re so much bigger than me?” She tips her head to the side and reaches out to squeeze my bicep.
I flex and grin, fully aware that she’s flirting to cheer me up after a heavy conversation. I’m willing to let her. I can’t believe that she’s standing in front of me smiling after everything she just heard. If she hasn’t kicked me out, does that mean there’s a chance for us yet?