Chapter 16 Alexa
ALEXA
The nightclub we picked, Sidetrack, thrums with low music and conversation, the kind of atmosphere I haven’t experienced in years.
I smooth down my blue dress, the tight one that hits just above my knees that I bought two years ago while shopping with Esme, thinking I’d wear it somewhere special.
This is the first time it’s seen the light of day, and I try to remember the last time I felt this dressed up.
“You look amazing,” Esme says, sliding back into our booth with two Old Fashioneds. “Like, seriously amazing. I forgot you owned clothes that weren’t jeans and T-shirts.”
“Thanks.” I laugh, accepting the drink gratefully. “I think. This feels so weird, being out without Ash. I keep wanting to check my phone to make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s fine. He’s with Jordan, who clearly adores him, and they’re probably having the time of their lives eating pizza and talking about superheroes.” She settles into her seat and raises her glass. “To adult time.”
“To adult time,” I repeat, clinking my glass against hers.
The Old Fashioned is stronger than I expected, and I feel the warmth spread through my chest almost immediately.
The jazz trio on stage plays something I don’t recognize but find oddly familiar, the melody weaving through the room in a way that makes me want to close my eyes and just listen.
I’ve never been to a jazz club before, and I’m grateful Esme suggested it.
There’s something sophisticated about the atmosphere that makes me feel like I’m stepping into a different version of myself.
“So,” Esme says, leaning forward with the expression I recognize as her interrogation face. “Tell me more about this mysterious situation with Jordan and the baby.”
I take another sip of my drink, buying time. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, Alexa. You’ve been working for him for almost two weeks, and you still don’t know where the baby’s mother is? That’s not like you. You usually figure people out pretty quickly.”
She’s right. I am usually good at reading situations, at piecing together the details people don’t say out loud. But with Jordan, I keep hitting walls.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” I admit. “And I’m starting to worry that something’s really wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
I stare into my drink, voicing the fear that’s been growing in the back of my mind. “What if Henry’s mom is an addict? What if she’s in rehab, or worse?”
The words hang heavy between us. Esme’s expression grows serious.
“What makes you think that?”
“Jordan never talks about her. He never mentions when she’s coming back, or where she is, or why she left her six-month-old baby with someone who clearly had no experience with children.
” I list the red flags I’ve been cataloging.
“He disappears for hours every day without explanation. He gets phone calls that make him look devastated. And the other day, when I asked him about dating, he said, ‘The risk feels too high.’ What does that even mean?”
“It could mean a lot of things.”
“Or it could mean he’s watched his sister destroy her life with drugs, and he’s scared of getting close to anyone because he’s learned that people leave.” The theory feels more solid the more I voice it. “Just like my parents did.”
Esme reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “Alexa, you don’t know that’s what’s happening.”
“But what if it is?” My voice catches slightly. “That poor baby. And Jordan, trying to hold everything together. No wonder he seems so stressed all the time.”
“Even if that is what’s happening,” she says gently, “Henry has an awesome uncle who’s learning to take care of him. And he has you, helping them both figure it out. That’s not nothing.”
She’s right, but the thought of Henry growing up without his mother, of Jordan carrying that burden alone, makes my chest ache.
“I wish I could help more. But I don’t think Jordan wants me to really know him.”
“Maybe he’s not ready to let anyone help beyond what you’re already doing. Maybe he’s still figuring out how to ask for it.”
The music shifts to something more upbeat, and I try to shake off the heavy mood. This is supposed to be my night off, my chance to be an adult without responsibilities weighing on my shoulders.
“Enough about my complicated work situation,” I say, forcing a smile. “Though I should mention I’m still applying for marketing jobs. Haven’t gotten any bites yet.”
“Any prospects?”
“A few interviews here and there, but nothing concrete.” I don’t mention that part of me doesn’t want any of those jobs to pan out.
Working for Jordan means I get to stay right next door, I get to spend my days with Henry, I can bring Ash with me when needed, and I get to see Jordan every day.
The thought of going back to a sterile office environment, dealing with demanding clients and corporate politics, feels less appealing than it used to.
“Well, at least you have a steady income while you look,” Esme points out.
“True. Jordan’s been incredibly generous.” More generous than he needs to be, which sometimes makes me wonder if he’s trying to make sure I don’t leave.
And would that really be so bad?
“Tell me about you,” I continue, desperate to change the subject.
Esme launches into a story about the ongoing war at work over who gets the top shelf in the break-room fridge, and I find myself laughing despite my worries. This is good. This is what I needed. Time to remember who I am outside of being Ash’s mom and Jordan’s employee.
I’m just starting to relax when a man approaches our table. He’s attractive in an understated way, with kind eyes and a sincere-looking smile that reaches them.
“Excuse me,” he says, focusing on me with what seems like genuine interest rather than a practiced line. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I couldn’t help noticing you from across the room. You have a beautiful laugh.”
Esme raises her eyebrows and sits back, clearly enjoying the show.
“Thank you,” I say politely, and something about his approach feels sincere rather than calculated.
“I’m Drew,” he continues, extending his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’m really flattered, but I’m here with my friend.”
“Of course, I don’t want to intrude on your night.” He smiles at Esme apologetically. “What about your number then? I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. No pressure at all.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t really have space in my life for dating right now.” The excuse comes easily, because it’s the truth.
“I completely understand,” Drew says, and he actually seems to mean it. “Well, it was worth asking. You ladies have a wonderful evening.”
He walks away with a friendly nod, no persistence or wounded ego in sight.
“Well, that was refreshing,” Esme observes once he’s gone.
“What do you mean?”
“A guy who actually takes no for an answer. He seemed nice.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, tracing my finger around the rim of my cocktail glass.
“He was nice, though. And clearly interested,” Esme continues.
“It’s just not for me,” I say, finishing my Old Fashioned.
Esme studies my face in the dim light. “When’s the last time you were actually attracted to someone, Alexa? And don’t say it’s been so long you can’t remember, because I won’t believe you.”
The question catches me off guard, and immediately Jordan’s face flashes in my mind. The way he looks when he’s concentrating on something, the careful gentleness with which he handles Henry, the smile that transforms his entire face when he’s genuinely happy.
“I don’t know,” I lie, but Esme has known me too long to buy it.
“Aside from Jordan,” she says matter-of-factly, grinning, not even making it a question.
“I don’t have feelings for anyone,” I protest, but even I can hear how unconvincing I sound.
“That’s why you turned down Drew. Not because you don’t have space in your life for dating, but because you can’t think of anyone else except for Jordan that way.”
She’s right, and we both know it. Ever since the day at the park when that woman assumed we were a family, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. Not just as my employer or my neighbor, but as a man who makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say finally. “Even if I did have feelings for Jordan, which I’m not saying I do, it would be completely inappropriate. He’s my boss.”
“He’s also clearly attracted to you.”
“You don’t know that.” Even as I say it, though, my heart skips a beat. Is he? Really?
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The man is smitten.”
“Even if that were true, which it’s not, there’s obviously something major going on in his life that he doesn’t want to share. Getting involved with someone who has that many secrets seems like a recipe for disaster.”
“Or maybe he just needs someone who cares enough to stick around while he figures his life out.”
The jazz trio finishes their set, and the club begins to fill with the louder conversation of people settling in for the night. I check my phone and see that it’s almost ten.
“I should probably head home soon,” I say. “Make sure Ash hasn’t convinced Jordan to let him stay up until midnight.”
“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over. You deserve to be happy, Alexa. And if Jordan makes you happy, maybe it’s worth taking a risk.”
As we pay our tab and gather our things, I think about what Esme said. About taking risks, about sticking around while someone figures their life out. About deserving happiness.
But I’ve been down that road before, with Ash’s father. I’ve learned what happens when you invest everything in someone who isn’t ready to invest back.
Still, as I drive home through the quiet streets, I can’t stop thinking about Jordan and Ash probably asleep on the couch together, about Henry safe in his crib, about the family they’ve all become in my mind.
The reality check hits me as I pull into my driveway.
I can’t afford to pursue these feelings for Jordan.
This job is too important, too perfect for my situation.
Fifty dollars an hour, flexible schedule, work right next door, and I get to bring Ash with me.
If I make things awkward by developing romantic feelings, I could lose all of that.
And then what? Back to applying for marketing jobs that don’t call me back? Back to worrying about paying bills and whether I can afford to send Ash on school trips?
No. Whatever I’m feeling for Jordan isn’t worth risking the stability this job has given us. I need to keep my emotional distance, no matter how much I want to get closer.
Some risks aren’t worth taking. Most people aren’t worth the potential cost.
Even when they feel like they might be worth everything.