Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
Alex
Matt is nice enough to catch a ride home with Niko, so I can borrow his car and give Emma a ride.
She and I are the second to last group to leave, with only Max and Silas sticking around till the very end of visiting hours.
“Take care, kid,” Max says to Emma when I pull her away.
She looks tired, mirroring how I feel, but there isn’t a chance in hell I’m taking her home without a decent meal.
“Come on,” I pull her into the hall, then hold her hand as we walk. I can’t believe she’s letting me hold her hand. A fucking miracle.
Halfway to the elevator, I realize she’s crying. Pulling her to a stop, I ask, “What’s wrong?”
“H-he looked so weak. And pale. And my heart hurts for him. A-and then I wondered, is that what I looked like?” She looks up at me.
She looked worse. She looked a step away from death. Connie looked like a fucking warrior compared to her.
“You were…things were touch and go for a while, and yes, I know the feeling.” I push a piece of curly hair behind her ear. “My heart hurt then, too.”
Her nose scrunches, and she turns to keep walking.
I help her get in the car, hold her door, and follow right behind her.
“Can you drop me off at the condo? Is that alright?” No.
“I-I thought you would just stay with us?”
“Oh…um, I don’t…I think it’s probably wisest if–” I can’t handle this.
“Em, I want you to stay with us. There’s an empty guest suite beside mine.” She’s still quiet, looking out the windshield and not at me. “Please, I just need to go to sleep knowing you’re safe tonight.”
I lay my hand out flat, my elbow resting on the center console, like an offering. Would she take it?
Her fingers slowly slide against mine in acceptance.
I thread our hands together and head towards the Italian restaurant on West, just like Connie said.
“I love this place. How’d you know?” she asks. I hadn’t known. There’s apparently a lot I don’t know about her. Like that, she goes to NYU. Is she still studying anthropology? Fuck, what’s even her favorite color?
“Connie’s suggestion. It’s also close to the house.” She knows that though; she’d been there before at least a dozen times with me. Maybe more just to see Constantine.
I get her door for her when we arrive, and she leads the way. The place is small and quaint. The lights are dim, and there’s an open booth calling our name. One of the servers seats us, and I debate ordering a drink to take the edge off my nerves.
“Can I get you something to drink, a bottle of wine?” Our server asks, and I look at Emma, but she shakes her head.
“Just a Sprite, please, if you have it. If not, club soda is great.” Since when did she drink either of those things?
“Water is great,” I say. They hand us menus, set down a basket of bread with a dish of olive oil beside it, and walk away.
I pick the first thing I see on the menu so I don’t waste time figuring it out when I could be spending that time focusing on her.
The candlelight from the votive makes her literally glow, and I can’t help but notice how healthy she looks. She’s more beautiful than ever. Looking full of life, she looks…free.
She takes a little longer than me, but when she sets the menu aside, I give her a smile.
“NYU, huh?” She glances down at the sweatshirt.
“Yeah,” she says, almost bashful about it.
“Why there?” As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I wish I could retract it. I want to avoid her talking about him at all.
“It seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing to do. To live in New York and go to school, so I took the jump.” Dodged that fucking bullet. Or she evaded nicely. Either way, we aren’t talking about him.
“Still anthropology?” She nods.
“Still love it. Umm, actually, Jess’ mom, May, is one of my professors.” She laughs gently. “Small world.”
“Huh, yeah. Small world.” I most certainly didn’t want to waste any time talking about Jess.
“What else have you been doing? Or what’d you do this summer?”
“I’ve been busy, Alex.” She tears apart a piece of bread, dipping it into the oil. I could feel her holding back, trying to spare me.
“Yeah, same.” I can’t help the laugh that breaks free because, no, I hadn’t been busy.
She laughs, too. “Oh really? Please indulge me.”
“Okay, I will. Let’s see…we’ve got a packed schedule Monday through Friday.
I’ve got yoga with Linda three times a week.
I’ve got therapy with Maureen twice a week.
On days I don’t have therapy, there’s either meditation or tai chi.
Both of those are with Sammy. And then, I have lunch with my family every day, and I cook dinner for whoever’s around every night. ”
“Connie and I walk the dogs in the evenings, and sometimes I work out or run afterward, and you know…Life is pretty full.” Lie, it’s empty without her, but the routine has helped. It isn’t anywhere near as awful as I make it sound.
“Wow, you were not lying. That is a full schedule, and it sounds amazing,” she says genuinely. “And you live with Connie? And Matt?” I nod.
“Yeah,” I do, and oddly, it works.
“You seem happy,” she says. Fuck, no. I don’t want her to think I’m happy. I’m not happy. I’m surviving.
“Are you happy?” I ask. It’s something I’d asked once before, long ago, when we sat across from each other at her condo.
“Well, we’re basically the same person, Alex…” She lowers her voice, “So tell me, are we happy?” My smile falls. I shake my head.
“Not without you.” I watch as her chest rises and falls in response.
“Did you know what you’d like to order?” our server asks, setting down our drinks. I motion for her to go first.
“Chicken piccata, please.”
I take her menu from her, then order, “The exact same.” Just desperate to get back to what we were saying, but once our server is gone, the air is cleared.
“So, how long have you been at Connie’s?” She buries the former topic of conversation easily.
“Since August.”
“And before that? You were?” She asks.
“Busy, Emma. I was busy.” I could play games too. She swallows.
“Right,” she says, dusting off her hands. “I think I’m going to use the restroom. I’ll be right back.” Fuck. I probably made it seem like I was out fucking someone. Everyone, for all she knew. Obviously, I wasn’t. There hadn’t been anyone since her.
I stand when she leaves. Then again, when she comes back, looking slightly paler. I stop her before she sits, my hand slipping around her waist.
“Are you feeling okay?” She arches away from my touch, though.
“I’m fine. Totally fine.” And I’m the king of England.
It takes a few minutes before we start talking again, but once we do, the conversation flows. Effortlessly. Like it used to.
She tells me all her favorite things about New York. So far, Central Park’s turning colors are the leader. But she also loves people watching on the subway. She loves walking everywhere. But hates the lack of scenery and hiking.
She loves being able to order Thai food at 1:00 A.M. and have it delivered, “But no one makes pancakes as good as yours. At least not that I’ve found, and I have looked,” she says, laughing.
I’ll make her pancakes tomorrow.
“It’s been a fun segue to live there…” she trails off.
I hope it’s because it, “Doesn’t feel like home?” She shakes her head.
“Not in the slightest,” she says almost begrudgingly. I understand that.
The food arrives, and she eats entirely too fast.
“I really haven’t had much to eat today.” I believe her, then ask if she wants any of mine, too.
She laughs, “No, thank you, or I might toss my cookies.” I finish my dish just so she doesn’t feel weird about it.
We both decline dessert, though. And after I pay our bill, we walk out into the cold fall night.
It’s not freezing cold like it is in Spearhead.
But it’s cold because we aren’t dressed for it.
I rub her arms as we walk to the car, making sure she’s buckled in before coming around. It’s a short five-minute drive to the Scala’s house, but I still catch her eyes falling every now and again.
It’s only 8:30, but I guess 11:30 in New York.
Carl is gone for the night when we get back, so I enter the gate code and then park in the empty driveway.
I grab her tote from the backseat and then come around to get her door, but she’s already passed out cold.
“C’mon, baby,” I say as I unbuckle her, slinging her tote over one shoulder. I lift her with an arm under her legs and one at her back and she instinctively wraps her arms around my neck.
The house is quiet when we step in. Both dogs still at Gina’s.
Lights are off, so I head straight to the guest wing of the house.
I drop her tote on the ground, then lay her gently on the bed.
Unfortunately, it’s not my bed, but I would probably sleep like a fucking baby knowing she’s right next door.
I help her kick her shoes off, then pull a blanket over her.
“I love you,” I whisper. “I’m right next door,” I say, dropping a kiss on her forehead before turning off the light.
Once the door clicks shut, I lean against the wall and sigh. Tonight was…great. Perfect even, but I want more. I want to know so much more. To be there. Holding her hand in Central Park. Dropping her off for class. Cooking her dinner at night.
And I wanted her to be honest with me about Blanks. As much as it would kill me.
But I don’t deserve any of it. I should just be grateful for tonight and the couple of days she’s here. And then I can recommit to letting her go.
Because she looked free…at the very least, happy. Healthy. Content. She looked like the best version of herself. And that’s what love is, right? Isn’t love wanting that for the other person even if it means it isn’t with you?
She’s my version of freedom. She’s my happiness and joy too. She made me want to be better, but the problem is I would never be good enough for her. At least not by my standards. I want more for her than she knows she can have herself.
That’s what love is. It isn’t crippling pain. It isn’t wanting to hurt.
It’s doing whatever it takes to get her to be this person. And that means without me.
Resigning, I step away from her room and into my own.
I throw my clothes in a pile, slip into bed, and wait for sleep to take me.
At some point, I doze but wake to the sound of a gentle knock on my door.
“Yeah?” I sit up partially, worry thrumming through my bloodstream. The door cracks open, and Emma steps a bare foot inward.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispers into the dark.
I immediately move over, pushing the covers back to make room for her, letting her take the warm side of the bed.
She closes the door behind her and pads into the room, then into bed beside me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“No problem,” I say, then settle so I’m lying on my side facing her, even though she settles, lying on her side, facing away from me.
I consider rubbing her back or scooting closer, but ultimately, I decide to just let her sleep. Assuming she can. And I assume correctly because, after a few short minutes, I hear her breath deepen, then turn into a gentle snore.
I smile against the pillow and let the sound lure me to the same state as her.
When the color of the room starts to turn gray, my inner alarm clock rings, and I wake up to find myself curled around her.
My bare cock is shoved in between her bare ass cheeks, and my hand covers her breast under her shirt.
For fucks sake, Alex. My dick twitches, digging deeper, and she pushes back against me.
Wait, does she want this? Is she even awake?
I go to move my hand away, but her hand comes over the top of mine, keeping it there.
“I hate how much I miss you,” she whispers, then releases my hand. I’m positive she can feel the pounding in my chest or feel it in my cock that presses and twitches harder against her.
I’m fumbling with what to say and how to say it. Do I tell her the truth? Do I push her away? I want her back so goddamn bad…but I’m not good for her.
“I-I,” I stutter and stumble.
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, Alex.” She gently removes my hand from her breast and scoots her hips away from me.
But I grab her hip and drag her back, whispering into her hair, “I miss you with every fiber of my being, Emma. I miss you while you lie beside me because I know you’re not mine. But I don’t hate that I miss you; sometimes missing you is the only thing that reminds me I’m still alive.”
It’s a burn in my chest, a constant fire that just won’t die.
She rolls over to face me, still in my arms.
“Then why do you insist on pushing me away?”
“Because you can do better than me. I’m not your happiness and joy, Em.” That belongs to someone else.
“Are you serious, Alex?” I nod. Then, unable to stop myself from touching her, I push her hair off her face.
“Sitting in the cove with you was the first time I ever felt truly free and safe. I feel that with you all the time. I feel happy when you let me take care of you. I feel joy every time you laugh. Why?” She strokes my face in turn, “Why do you keep me out?”
“Because you’ll be disappointed if I let you in.”
She shakes her head, then leans in hesitating, but I close the distance. I let her lead, unsure what to expect, and she gently kisses me, wiping a tear off my cheek.
“No, I won’t,” she says with absolute assurance. “In fact, I think I’ll be the one to disappoint you.” I shake my head.
“You could never.”
“You might be surprised–” I cut her off from talking, dropping my mouth onto hers. I try not to consume. I try to just kiss her, but it’s hard. Especially when she’s here, pushing back, trying to take everything I can give her.
I push her onto her back, rolling closer, putting a leg between hers. I thread one hand into her hair while the other roams down, groping a breast, then trailing over her abdomen. And she tenses.
She stops kissing me, and I lean back.
Her eyes are clenched closed like she’s in pain. Like she doesn’t want this. My heart races.
“Alex…I have to tell you something.” In the blink of an eye, I’m ready for the heartbreak, the plummet. Only this time, there’d been no forewarning. No bad gut feelings, just straight to terror.
“I-I’m pregnant.”
to be continued…