Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“ALL I’M SAYING IS I want to see you settled down.” My mother halts the shopping cart in the grain aisle at Trader Joe’s, pinning me with an exasperated stare.
I barely manage to keep my eyes from rolling.
I got a PhD before I was thirty, but she couldn’t care less.
As far as she’s concerned, the only reason women should bother with college is to get their MRS degree.
I’m the ultimate disappointment, because despite the trail of initials after my name, I’m thirty-two and still husbandless.
And she reminds me of it every time I’m in her presence.
I snag a box of couscous and toss it into the cart.
“I’m settled just fine, Mother. I don’t need a man to complete me.
I’m entirely fulfilled on my own.” Sure, it gets a bit lonely now that Millie has moved out, but we’d been living together since junior year of college.
And she was right—it was time for the next chapter in our lives. At least it was for her.
I tug at the sleeves of my sweater, melting under the stifling cotton. At least I won’t be slut-shamed today for showing my shoulders. Or wrists, for that matter.
“You know,” says Gram, sneaking a box of Choco-O’s into the basket. “There’s a very nice young man who came to Golden Sun last week. I think he’d be perfect for you.”
I tighten my lips so the mounting scream doesn’t accidentally make its way out. I somehow doubt I’ll find the man of my dreams at her senior living facility. “Thanks for looking out for me, Gram. I’m focusing on my career for now.”
“Career ca-shmeer.” She waves her hand. “First it was the bachelor’s, next it was the master’s, then the doctorate. How many degrees do you need?” She huffs. “Books aren’t going to keep you warm at night.”
The spicy ones will.
“I’m going to grab some arugula.” I release a deep breath, making my escape to the produce aisle.
At least it’s cooler here with the fresh veg.
I gather up my auburn tresses and fan the back of my neck.
Maybe I’ll luck out and the misters will go off.
Although that would ruin my blowout. It took me an eternity this morning.
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the polished metal shelf and frown. I look like a Stepford wife. At least the produce won’t judge me. I’m going to hide among the carrots and radishes as long as possible.
“February?” A familiar voice invades my sanctuary, and I stifle a groan.
So much for not seeing each other again for the rest of the semester.
“It is you. Why are you wearing a sweater?” he asks. “It’s a hundred degrees outside.”
I cross my arms, then slowly turn, coming face-to-face with him.
A black athletic shirt is practically painted on his chest, highlighting his sculpted pecs and toned biceps.
His skin is coated in a dewy sheen that somehow makes him look even more irresistible than usual.
My gaze trails down, catching on the shiny basketball shorts hanging just below his knees.
I force my eyes back up, following the sharp line of his jaw, covered in at least two days’ worth of stubble.
A playful grin widens across his face. “You look like you’re about to teach Sunday school.”
“I do not.” I glance down past the pearl buttons on my cardigan to my ankle-length wrap skirt. Well, maybe I do.
“You’re right. I think even nuns show more skin than that.” He lifts his eyebrows. “Seriously, what’s with the getup?”
“June, who’s your friend?” My mother’s voice sends a chill through me, and I instinctively straighten my posture.
“Now it makes sense,” Alex mutters under his breath.
She smiles at him, then stares expectantly at me, obviously awaiting an introduction.
Does she really not remember him? I suppose he does look a bit different now than he did when he lived next door to us. He was tall and lanky then. Now, he’s filled out. Grown into his body and has that rugged, manly look going for him. Solid. Hard.
I swallow and gesture toward him. “This is Alex. My colleague.” I shoot him a desperate look, begging him to play along.
He hesitates, but ultimately plasters on a smile so convincing, I can barely tell it’s fake. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wells. June and I work together at Barrett.”
She studies him a moment before lifting her hand to shake his.
“How lovely.” I can already picture her booking tours for wedding venues.
If she connects the dots and realizes this is Alex Cardoso, her jaw might hit the floor so hard we’ll need a cleanup on aisle three. “So you’re a nutritionist, too?”
His jaw ticks, and I chew the inside of my cheek, silently pleading with him.
After a beat, he finally nods. “Yep, nutrition.” Strategically, he positions his handbasket—loaded with beer, tortilla chips, and queso—out of my mother’s line of sight.
I release my pent-up breath. “We should probably get back to Gram.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dairy aisle, smiling to myself as she eyes a carton of chocolate milk.
“I suppose you’re right.” Mom cranes her neck before bringing her focus back to Alex. “It was delightful meeting you.” She squeezes his arm, then says, “Oh, my. Someone just came from the gym.”
“Okay, Mom.” I shuffle her away, throwing a sympathetic wince over my shoulder at Alex, who’s scrubbing his hand down his face.
I wish I could do the same. Though my heart flutters at the way he had my back. He didn’t out me. Didn’t out himself. He went along with it.
“Oh, darling,” my mother says, linking her arm with mine. “Surely you’ve set your sights on him.”
“What?” I shake my head. “We work together. Besides, my tenure review is this semester, and it would be completely inappropriate. I’m mentoring him.”
Her brows draw together. “Mentoring him in what?”
“Advanced nutrition,” I blurt. “Kilojoules. How they affect metabolism.” Is that a thing? It sounds slightly legit, but my one and only nutrition class was over ten years ago.
“That sounds”—she frowns—“complicated.”
“Yeah.” I nod emphatically. “It’s a tough subject.”
“No …” She waves a hand. “Your situation. Working with a man like that, day in and day out …” She trails off, biting her lip.
Eww! Is my mother fantasizing about Alex?
She cuts her eyes to me and must see the horror on my face. “Close your mouth, June. You don’t want to catch flies.” She smooths down her dress, then marches to the dairy aisle where my grandma is waiting and grabs the chocolate milk out of the cart.
“Hey!” Gram reaches for it, but Mom deposits it back on the shelf.
“No chocolate milk.” She wags her finger. “It’s bad for your blood sugar.”
“Let her have it.” I pluck the carton off the shelf and drop it back into the cart.
“June.” My mother’s harsh tone makes my body recoil. “For heaven’s sake, you’re a nutritionist. Why on earth would you enable your grandmother? You know how horrible chocolate milk is.”
“It’s not horrible. All foods fit in moderation.” I don’t know if that’s true, but I’m not about to let her bully my grandma out of the simple pleasures she has left in life. I flick my hair over my shoulder, then steer the cart toward the checkout line, leaving her huffing by the yogurt.
Once I’m in the queue, I realize Mom and Gram will still be a few minutes, so I gesture to the woman behind me to take my place. I let two more shoppers cut, then decide to get out of the way completely. But just as I turn to leave, I bump into Alex.
“I can’t believe how different you look.” He shakes his head. “This is all for her?”
My shoulders sag and I shrug. It’s not like I want to do it. “It’s just for today,” I finally manage.
He gives me a pointed look. “Somehow, I doubt that.”
I hate that he’s right. But I’m not about to trauma dump on him inside a Trader Joe’s. So instead, I tighten my lips and change the subject. “Ready for your first class tomorrow?”
A sly grin stretches across his face. “Think I proved that yesterday.” He sets his basket on the stand at the register, and the cashier begins scanning his groceries.
I flash him a matching smirk. “So you finally know what the Cowper’s gland does?”
He pulls out his wallet and inserts his card into the machine. “I do indeed.”
“And you’re all set with the icebreaker?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just going straight into the material.”
“Alex, you can’t skip the icebreaker. Not in this class. You need them to get comfortable talking with each other. It sets the tone for the whole semester.”
“I appreciate the advice, April, but I’ll be fine.” He glances over my shoulder and grimaces. “See you around.” Briskly, he gathers his bags and strides toward the exit.
Mom approaches just as Alex slips through the automatic doors. “It’s a shame he was off in such a hurry. You could have invited him to have lunch with us.”
The thought makes my skin crawl. The only thing worse than being in the hot seat at my mother’s house would be if Alex was there next to me.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Real shame.”
“That man is interested in you,” Mom says, scooping up a forkful of couscous salad.
I cringe at her assessment. “I promise, he’s not.” We managed to sidestep the topic for an hour while we prepared lunch. Now, I’m sitting at her dining room table, back under scrutiny.
“Who?” Gram asks, looking between us.
“The one from the store who was making eyes at June,” my mother says slyly.
Gram pounds the table. “And I missed it?”
“You didn’t miss anything.” I set my fork down and pick up my water glass.
Mom tilts her head. “For some reason, she’s completely oblivious.”
I roll my eyes, chomping on a hunk of ice. Not oblivious at all, Mother. In fact, you’re the one who’s oblivious.
“June, don’t chew the ice.” Her penetrating eyes could cut glass. “It’s unladylike.”
I stare her down, plopping another cube into my mouth. Maybe I should start manspreading in the chair while I’m at it.
My grandma pats my leg under the table. “Who wouldn’t like my precious girl?”
I smile at that and squeeze her hand. “Thanks, Gram.”