Chapter 28 Alexa
ALEXA
The last towel snaps against itself as I fold it with perhaps more force than necessary, adding it to the neat stack on my kitchen table.
Henry sleeps peacefully in his portable playpen in the living room, finally down for his afternoon nap after a morning of being more interested in everything except sleep.
The house is quiet except for the TV playing softly, Ash at school for another couple hours.
I should feel satisfied. My interview outfit for tomorrow hangs pressed and ready in my bedroom closet.
My résumé and portfolio are organized in my briefcase by the front door.
Questions I’ve practiced answering are written on index cards and reviewed until I could recite them in my sleep.
I’m as prepared as I can possibly be for what could be the interview that changes everything.
So why do I feel so restless?
Because being prepared for tomorrow doesn’t help with today.
Being ready for my new future doesn’t make the present any easier to navigate.
And having nothing left to organize or clean or prep means I’m left with just my thoughts, which inevitably drift to the man to whom I delivered my resignation letter last night.
I move through the house looking for something, anything, to keep my hands busy. The breakfast dishes are already washed and put away. The mail has been sorted, bills have been paid, and I even cleaned out the junk drawer in the kitchen twice.
Maybe I should start packing. The realtor is coming on Thursday to discuss listing the house, and getting a head start on boxing up things we don’t need daily might be smart.
But the thought of dismantling my grandmother’s house, of packing away the memories we’ve built here, feels too overwhelming when I’m already emotionally drained.
Instead, I find myself in the living room, tidying throw pillows that don’t need tidying while stealing glances at Henry.
He’s sprawled on his back with one arm flung over his head, the picture of complete contentment.
His dark hair is getting longer, starting to curl at the edges the way Jordan’s does when he hasn’t had it cut recently.
The comparison is a punch to the stomach.
In two weeks, I won’t see Henry every day.
I won’t watch him discover new things, or comfort him when he’s fussy, or celebrate his small victories.
Someone else will learn his routines, his preferences, his little personality quirks that make him so special.
Someone else will be there when he says his first real word or takes his first unassisted steps. All the milestones I’ve been looking forward to experiencing with him will belong to someone else.
The thought makes my chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with Jordan and everything to do with how much I’ve come to love this little boy.
I move to the kitchen and open the refrigerator, staring at its contents without seeing anything.
Maybe I should prep something for dinner, even though Ash will probably want mac and cheese again, and I haven’t had much appetite lately.
Maybe I should go grocery shopping, though we don’t really need anything.
Maybe I should call Esme and see if she wants to meet for coffee, even though we just saw each other yesterday.
Maybe I should admit that I’m desperately trying to avoid thinking about last night and the look in Jordan’s eyes when I handed him that letter.
The sound of a car door slamming outside makes me close the refrigerator and glance at the clock.
One fifteen. Way too early for Ash to be home from school, and definitely too early for Jordan to be back from the hospital.
He’s been working twelve- and thirteen-hour days; showing up at one in the afternoon would be completely out of character.
But when I peer through the front window, Jordan’s car is in his driveway, and he’s walking quickly toward my front door. Something about his posture, the urgency in his stride, makes my heart rate spike. Is something wrong with Amy? Did something happen at the hospital?
He knocks softly, probably mindful that Henry might be sleeping, and I open the door before he can knock again.
“Jordan? What are you doing home so early? Is everything all right?”
“Amy’s awake.”
The words stop me mid-sentence. I search his face, looking for any sign that I misheard or misunderstood, but his expression is a mixture of exhaustion and joy and something else I can’t quite identify.
“What?” I whisper.
“She woke up this morning. She’s conscious, talking, asking about Henry.” His voice cracks slightly. “The doctors say it’ll be a long recovery, but she’s going to be okay.”
Relief floods through me so completely that I have to grip the doorframe for support. Amy is awake. Henry’s mother is going to be okay. This nightmare that Jordan has been living for over a month is finally ending.
“Oh, my God, Jordan. That’s incredible. That’s amazing!” Without thinking, I step forward and hug him, feeling his arms come around me automatically. “How is she? How are you? This must be such a relief.”
For a moment, we just hold each other on my front doorstep, and I let myself feel the pure joy of good news, of prayers answered, of a family that’s going to be whole again. But then I remember where we stand, what happened last night, and I pull back.
“I’m so happy for you. For Henry. This changes everything.” I step back into the doorway, putting space between us. “You must want to see him. He’s napping, but—”
“Alexa, wait.” Jordan looks at me with an intensity that makes my stomach flutter. “Can we talk? Please?”
“If this is about the transition with Henry, we can discuss that later. You should be with Amy right now, or getting ready to bring Henry to see her, or—”
“This isn’t about Henry. Well, it is, but not just about Henry.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture I’ve come to recognize as his tell when he’s nervous. “Can I come in? Please?”
Something in his tone, something vulnerable and urgent, makes me step aside and let him into the living room. He glances at Henry sleeping peacefully in the playpen, and his expression softens for a moment before he turns back to me.
“Amy waking up made me realize something,” he says, staying near the door like he’s ready to run if this goes badly. “Life is fragile. Life is short. People we love can disappear in an instant, and we might not get second chances.”
I cross my arms, protecting myself from whatever he’s about to say. “Jordan…”
“I’ve been an idiot, Alexa. A complete idiot.
” The words come out in a rush, like he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t say them quickly.
“I thought I was protecting us both by keeping things professional. I thought I was being smart, avoiding complications. But really, I was just being scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared of feeling something real. Scared of risking what we had for what we could have. Scared of admitting that somewhere along the way, this stopped being about Henry needing a nanny and started being about me needing you.”
My heart starts beating faster, but I force myself to stay guarded. “Jordan, you made it very clear that you wanted professional boundaries. You made it clear that anything personal between us was inappropriate.”
“I was wrong.” He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I was so wrong, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away when what I really wanted was to pull you closer.
I’m sorry for making you feel like you didn’t matter when you’re the most important thing that’s happened to me in years. ”
“You can’t just say that now that Amy’s awake and you don’t need me anymore.” The words come out sharper than I intended, but they need to be said. “You can’t decide you have feelings for me just because the circumstances changed.”
“That’s not what this is.” His voice is firm, earnest. “Amy waking up didn’t create these feelings.
It just made me realize how stupid I’ve been for denying them.
I’ve been in love with you for weeks, Alexa.
I’ve been in love with you and Ash and the life we were building together, and I was too much of a coward to admit it. ”
The words threaten to knock me off-kilter, and at first, I’m sure I heard wrong. He loves me. He loves us.
“I miss you,” he continues, his voice softer now.
“I miss the easy way we worked together, the way you made everything feel manageable. I miss watching you with Henry, seeing how patient and loving you are. I miss Ash showing me his projects and asking me questions about everything. I miss feeling like I belonged somewhere besides the hospital.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I was so scared of getting close to you and then disappointing you, of choosing work over you like I always do, that I made sure to lose you before we even got started.”
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly it physically hurts. But I’ve been disappointed before. I’ve had someone tell me they loved me and then leave anyway.
“Jordan, I gave you my notice last night. I’m interviewing for another job tomorrow. I’m selling my house and moving across town. You can’t just show up and expect me to believe you and drop everything.”
“I know.” He holds up his hands. “I know the timing is terrible. I know I have no right to ask you to reconsider after how I treated you. But I had to try. I had to tell you how I feel before it’s too late.”
“What exactly are you asking me?”
“I’m asking for a chance. A real chance.
” Jordan takes another step closer, close enough that I can see the sincerity in his eyes.
“I want to be your partner, Alexa. I want to help you raise Ash and care for Henry and introduce you to Amy. I want to be part of your family, and I want you to be part of mine.”
My heart flutters its way into my throat. I want to say yes to it all, but I need to be careful. I need to be practical. “And if I still decide to move? If I still want a fresh start away from here?”
“Then I’ll follow you. I’ll find a job at a different hospital. I’ll do whatever it takes to be where you are.” His voice is steady, certain. “I don’t care where we live as long as we’re together.”
The sincerity in his voice, the determination in his expression, breaks through every wall I’ve built around my heart.
This isn’t the guarded man I’ve been dealing with for weeks.
This is the man who played soccer with Ash in the backyard, who laughed when Henry peed on him during a diaper change, who looked at me like I was everything he never knew he wanted.
“I want to be your boyfriend, Alexa. If you’ll have me. I want to take you on dates, meet your friends officially, and be the person Ash can count on to show up for soccer games and school events. I want all of it.”
Boyfriend. The word sends a thrill through me that I haven’t felt in years.
“You hurt me,” I tell him, needing him to understand the cost of his walls, his distance. “Feeling like I didn’t matter to you after what we’d shared, it really hurt.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He reaches for my hands, and this time I don’t pull away. “I never want to hurt you again. I want to spend every day proving that you matter to me, that you all matter to me.”
I study his face, looking for any sign of doubt or hesitation. But all I see is love and hope and a vulnerability he’s never let me see before.
Amy is awake. Henry’s mother is going to be okay. And Jordan is standing in my living room telling me he loves me, asking for a chance to be the partner I never dared to hope for.
“Jordan,” I whisper, and before I can say anything else, he’s kissing me.
It’s everything our almost-kiss wasn’t. Urgent and desperate and full of weeks of pent-up longing. His hands frame my face like I’m precious, like I’m something he can’t bear to lose again. And I kiss him back with all the love I’ve been trying to deny, all the hope I’ve been afraid to feel.
When we break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Jordan rests his forehead against mine, his hands still cradling my face.
“Is that a yes?” he asks, and I can hear the vulnerability beneath the hope in his voice.
Instead of answering with words, I wrap my arms around him and hold him tight, feeling like the house we’re standing in just became even more of a home.
“That’s a yes,” I whisper against his neck. “That’s definitely a yes.”