Chapter 25
I race through the house, calling Alex’s name. I guess he doesn’t hear me, because he keeps pushing forward at a rapid pace. As he shoves past the bodies in his path, I realize that’s wishful thinking: He hears me, and the reason for his quickening pace is that he’s running away.
Sirens blare in my mind, drowning out all the sounds around me, drowning out any semblance of coherent thought. Panic races through my veins even though I can’t quite figure out why this is happening.
Is this because he saw me hugging Ellie?
I remember his strange words before I went to the backyard: You’re leaving me for him?
A week of weird behavior, of the vibe between us being ever so slightly off, of comments I can’t make sense of—it all culminates in this.
Alex is running away from me.
I push through the crowd with more fervor, screaming at people to Move, damn it, and not giving a single shit about the bewildered and irritated looks I’m shot in return.
I catch sight of Cat, looking upset, but I can’t think through the implications of that and just how much I’ve messed up in this timeline because I’m busy with my own internal freak-out.
I see Alex go out the front door—my mental sirens blare louder, my blood pumps harder, because he’s actually leaving without even saying goodbye—and when I step outside, I find him already halfway across the lawn.
“Alex!” I call after him, and if this is a moment of truth, I finally have my answer.
He doesn’t stop, just confidently stalks forward. Away from me.
I call his name again—no response.
I go all in and run after him, trying to ignore the indignity of running after a man who wants nothing to do with me. Sierra would give me so much shit if she knew.
For half a second, I get the hysterical vision into my head of him also starting to run, until I’m chasing after him at full speed. He doesn’t do that, just keeps up his pace, allowing me to catch up to him. Or maybe he doesn’t realize I’m running after him until I grab his arm.
“Alex,” I say again. I go for a soft tone, but its effect is dampened by the fact that my breath is coming in pants.
Alex turns to me, looking every bit like a man defeated.
“What do you want, Joey?”
Is that really all it takes to defeat Alex Aquino? Me hugging someone else? The thought is so outrageous that I have the urge to laugh. But I can’t laugh, because it feels like I’m losing him. Like I’ve lost him. Also, I’m still struggling to catch my breath.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. You’re just gonna leave me alone at a party without saying goodbye?”
I really want this to work out. I love him even though he’s been acting odd lately, even though he’s being mopey and jealous. That’s something we can work on. I want us to work this out.
I want us to work, period.
“You didn’t look alone to me.”
“Whatever you think you saw back there, it’s easy to explain.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Please,” I beg, hating how my voice cracks.
Hating that I’m begging. I take a deep breath, look into his eyes—eyes that are projecting such a deep level of misery that I almost don’t feel embarrassed about begging—and calmly ask, “I know that whatever’s wrong, it didn’t begin tonight.
You’ve been weird ever since mini-golf. And no matter how much I spin it around in my head, I can’t make sense of why.
Can you tell me? Tell me what’s wrong, and I promise whatever it is, I can explain. ”
Alex starts shaking his head before I’m done speaking.
“You don’t understand—you don’t have anything to explain, Joey. I get it. I’ve always gotten it. I might have forgotten for a while there, but trust me, I’m crystal clear on the score here. I’ll never have you. Not really. No matter what I do—no matter if you’re it for me.
“I can take you on dates. I can be there for you when you need me. I can open my heart to you like I never have with anyone else. Hell, I can rip that heart right out of my chest and hand it to you on a plate—it doesn’t matter. It won’t ever matter. It’ll always be Ellie, won’t it?
“And I don’t think I’m a stupid man, but I—I’m a fucking fool when it comes to you.
I should have figured that out by now. I had decades to accept it, but I didn’t—I thought things could be different if I just…
but I get it now. I can be what you need—but I’ll never be what you want. I never stood a chance.”
I freeze. It feels as if the earth has split wide open under my feet. He turns to leave.
“Alex,” I whisper, not sure if I want him to stop or not. I’m struggling to process the implication of the words he’s just spoken.
Alex seems to think better of his urge to leave; he spins back around and pins me to where I stand with his singularly miserable expression.
“Just answer me this: What do you see in him? I’ve never understood it.
Is it the way he just floated through life, never really aspiring to anything, only for everything to magically work out for him anyway?
Because that’s his big secret, you know.
No ambition, just luck. I watched him for—for years, and it never ceased to amaze me. Maybe you have a thing for mediocrity.
“But—shit, I’m self-aware enough to realize I’m being an asshole. Not that self-awareness makes up for anything. Ignore me. I won’t bother you again.”
His words are meant to cut, but I barely hear them over the ringing in my ears.
What the hell is going on?
This is impossible.
My entire life is impossible, though, so that’s not really any sort of excuse.
“Alex,” I repeat, louder. He looks at me, breathing so fast and deep it’s like he’s panting from exertion. “You said decades.”
He freezes. I see it hit him—everything he’s said, everything he’s given away. Everything he needs to explain right the fuck now. Because just like that, I go from a desperate, begging woman to…
I don’t know what I am anymore.
Confused, to be certain. Also betrayed, though I don’t want to jump to conclusions. But part of my brain can’t help it. I’m just a hop, skip, and a jump away from flipping out on him, and my brain is ready to play hopscotch.
“Who the hell are you?”
Alex grimaces like he hates the answer to that question. And then, like magic, it’s all gone. The grimace, the misery in his eyes.
“You know exactly who I am, Josephina.”
And it’s that—that deliberate use of my full name—that snaps everything into focus. I stop thinking about the heartbreak that is only beginning to crest inside me. I want answers, and I want them right fucking now.
“Since when?”
“Since the beginning. Well, almost the beginning.”