Chapter 17
Chapter 17
The problem with feelings is that they can be pretty tricky to control. Sure, there are things like deep breathing to combat worry, and deep breathing to deal with too much excitement. Oh, and there’s deep breathing to relax you and help you sleep better.
There’s one thing I know for sure. Deep breathing does not help with feelings about Alex.
I’ve been trying it, and so far, it’s had zero effect. Sometimes, it even makes the feelings that much stronger, which is the last thing I want to happen. He’s still right there, stuck inside my head, the memory of both kisses lingering on my lips.
Sure, the glass or two of Chardonnay I had with Erin last night while watching Gilmore Girls at our apartment helped for a while, but even then, I had to remind myself about my four-point manifesto again before I left for work today.
So, with what amounts to only a tenuous hold on my totally inconvenient and evidently uncontrollable feelings for Alex, I arrive at the gallery on Friday afternoon with more than a dash of trepidation.
In fact, I’m straight-up terrified.
Through a series of short and to the point (me) and cheeky and even sometimes flirty (him) emails, we have arranged to meet today to begin the process of unpacking boxes of photographs I’ve had printed, framed, and delivered to the gallery. Between Alex, Larissa, and myself, we’ve agreed on a hanging plan, and I’ve got the notes on what goes where in my notebook, ready to get on with the job. Well, until Larissa arrives and rearranges everything, of course.
I’ve had all the images Larissa chose delivered to the gallery ready to be hung. So, when I unlock the gallery door and push it open, the only thing in the room is a stack of boxes, labeled “Darcy Evans.” I shrug my jacket off, pull a Stanley knife out of the new toolbox I got with a bunch of hardware store-type things on my way over here from the office, and begin the process of opening each box. As I pull each one out and unwrap it from its bubble wrap, I distract myself from looking closely at each image. There’s no way on this sweet Earth I’m going to let Alex get to me through his photography. I’ve let that happen once before, and look at where that got me. In a completely ill-advised passionate embrace in a café kitchen with a man I hate, that’s where.
Instead, I force myself to think about anything but the images in my hands. My mind roves around such important topics as: what I’m going to sing at karaoke with the girls on Saturday night; whether I should I sing that cute Taylor Swift song, or stick with the ABBA classics Erin is obsessed with (okay, me too); and whether I should pair my new white pants with my black high heel sandals or my favorite silver ones. You know, important things in my life that require deep thought and analysis.
When my phone beeps, I pick it up and find a message from Seth.
I can’t wait to see you again tonight.
I smile. Seth is such a great guy, and what’s more, I’m going to watch him show jump tonight. I fully expect to swoon when I see him in his equestrian outfit, sitting atop his horse. Seth’s the one, the guy I should be focusing on. I tap out a reply.
Me too! I’m excited to meet your horses.
I add some kisses and hit send.
A reply pings back immediately.
Remember what I said about the spade xoxo
I crinkle my forehead. The spade? Is he still carrying on about that? And what has a spade got to do with a horse, anyway? I shrug and type I will xoxo and press send then get back to work.
I’m about ten percent of the way through my unpacking task, humming a song I heard on the radio in my car on my way to the gallery when the door swings open. Despite knowing exactly who it is going to be, when I notice Alex’s bulk filling the doorway, my belly does a flip-flop.
I return my attention to unpacking boxes and continue to hum, acting as though I don’t know he’s here. As irritating as it is that he has this effect on me, I know it’s only because of that inappropriate kiss stirring things up for me. Nothing more. The weirdness between us is only temporary. It’ll pass, a lot like gas does. Yes, that’s it! My feelings for Alex are nothing but an inconvenient build-up of methane.
I smirk to myself as I stall for time by peeling off the bubble wrap from another photo. With my back still to him, I walk over to one of the walls and lean the photo up against it. All the while, I recite my four-point manifesto:
1. No smoldering.
2. No kissing.
3. Mention Seth a lot.
4. Pray.
I know I have zero control over number one (how do you stop someone from smoldering at you?), but I sure can control numbers two through four, and that’s exactly what I intend to do again today. After all, it’s been working up to now, so there’s no reason for it not to work today—even if we’re alone together for the first time since the day we kissed.
He clears his throat behind me, and I know I’ve got to turn around. Time’s up. I need to face the music. Or Alex Walsh, which is infinitely trickier for me than facing music could ever be.
I steel myself and turn. “Oh, hi, Alex. I didn’t see you there,” I say brightly.
He’s in jeans and a white T-shirt, that typical smile on his face. I do my best to ignore the way the sight of him makes things zing around inside me. I don’t want zings. Four-point manifesto. 1. No smoldering. 2. No kissing. 3. Talk about—
“Darcy Evans with a knife,” he says, punctuating my thoughts. “This could end really, really badly.”
I glance at the Stanley knife I’m holding firmly in my hand. “It could.” I toss my hair and try out a different tack. “Do as I say, and the blonde goes free.”
His shoulders shake as he lets out a laugh, and the sound makes me smile, despite myself. “You’re funny. I never knew that about you.”
“Oh, I am very funny.” I give another indignant toss of my hair. “My friends tell me that all the time.” They don’t, but he doesn’t need to know that. “In fact, I’m a lot of things you don’t know about.”
“I bet you are.”
I ignore his suggestive lilt. “Yes, I am.” And I’ve got a four-point manifesto that’s going to stop you in your tracks. Take that, Alex, with your distracting smolders and impossibly good kisses!
He stands, watching me for an uncomfortable moment before I tear my eyes away, breaking the weirdness between us.
“We’ve got a lot to get through today,” I warn.
“Where do you want me to start?”
“There are still a bunch more boxes to unpack, as you can see,” I keep my tone even and professional as I gesture at the stack in the middle of the room. “I figure once we’ve got all the photographs out, we can begin to arrange them per the plan.” I walk over to my purse and pull out my Labrador puppy notebook, flipping over to the relevant page. “The photographs are numbered on the back, so all we’ve got to do is put them in this sequence, hang them, and our work here will be done.”
“You make it sound so easy.” He comes to stand next to me and peers over my shoulder at my notebook. He’s standing far too close. Of course he is. It’s his thing. Maybe he’s got a personal space issue? Maybe someone should point that out to him? I bet he makes a lot of people uncomfortable with his closeness. Really, it’s a personal fault that could be easily rectified.
“Good thing you’re so organized. Organized and funny,” he says, his voice low with an amused edge to it. I can feel his breath on my neck, catapulting those darn zingy feelings into overdrive.
“Yes, it is,” I say briskly as I move away from him. I place my notebook on top of one of the boxes and begin to slit open another one with my knife. “I’ll open these boxes, and we can then both pull out all the photographs and put them in order.”
“Sure.” He rubs his hands together. “Let’s get this beautiful synergy of ours going, shall we?” he says, quoting Larissa’s comment about the two of us.
I shoot him a patronizing smile. “Yeah, let’s.” The only beautiful synergy I want with Alex Walsh involves him moving permanently back in India and me getting on with my life in peace.
I set about opening boxes, and we work surprisingly well together as a team, removing bubble wrap, consulting my number plan on where to put each photograph, then leaning them in their respective groupings up against walls. When we talk, it’s about the task at hand. But, despite the perfunctory nature of our communication, there’s an unspoken tension between us. Larissa would no doubt call it our “synergy.” Whatever it is, it fills all the spaces in the room like an oversized balloon, and when he’s close to me, the balloon presses against me, making it hard to breathe.
I run through my four-point manifesto in my head. Frequently. I can avoid seeing his smolder if I concentrate on working and avoid looking at him when he speaks. Easy. As for point number two (No kissing), well, not seeing Alex smolder should take care of that. Number three is talk about Seth a lot. That I can do, no problem.
I straighten up and carry out an exaggerated movement to look at my watch. I hold my pose, arm in the air, as I look at my wrist and wait for him to notice. Finally, he looks my way and I say, “I can only stay until six. I’ve got an important event tonight.”
He only glances briefly at me before he returns his attention to the work. “Sure,” he replies.
No, Alex, that’s not the plan here. He’s meant to ask me why I can only stay until six, not simply accept it with a noncommittal and frankly disappointing “sure.”
I try again. This time I throw my hands in the air. “Gosh, we have so much to get through. I really hope an hour and a half will be enough time. It’s already after four-thirty,” I tap my watch, “and I need to leave at six for an important event , you know.”
He straightens up, placing his hands on the small of his back and stretching. “Don’t stress out. What we don’t do today, we can do tomorrow. Sophie’s given me the weekend off.”
I grind my teeth. Why won’t he take the bait? I’m blatantly dangling it in front of him, after all.
He returns to his work.
I’ve had enough. “Come on, Alex. Aren’t you even a little bit curious?”
“About what?”
Seriously?
Exasperated, I reply, “Don’t you want to know what this important event is that I’ve got to leave at six for?”
He places one of the photographs against the wall and turns back to face me. “I’ve got a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“I don’t have to,” I huff. “I’m just making conversation. That’s all.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Please, tell me, Darcy, what is the important event you’ve got to leave to go to at six?”
I narrow my eyes at him. His tone doesn’t sound in the least bit like he actually wants to hear why I’ve got to leave at six. But since it means I get to create a boundary from my four-point manifesto with him, I leap on it.
“Funny you should ask, Alex.” I give him a sly, triumphant grin. “I’m going to see Seth compete in a show jumping event,” I say proudly. “Seth’s the guy I’m dating, in case you forgot,” I add for good measure. No point being subtle about it now. That ship has well and truly sailed, crossed several oceans, and docked in a foreign land by now.
I search his face for a reaction, fully expecting him to show he’s impressed. Who wouldn’t be impressed by a show jumping event? Horses, people dressed in equestrian fashion, tricky, daredevil leaps over high things. Royalty . Not that there’s going to be any royalty at Seth’s event tonight, of course, but they do attend these sorts of things. Really, you never know who might turn up (the fact they all live on the other side of the world is totally irrelevant right now).
He raises his eyebrows, and I can tell he’s secretly impressed. “Show jumping, huh?”
“Yes. Seth owns three horses, you know. He’s eventing tonight with one of them,” I reply, using the term Seth himself used. “I’m taking some of my friends along to watch.”
“Are you into horses?”
“Well, yes. But most importantly, I’m into Seth .”
Why is he not getting this?
He studies my face for a beat, then two, before he replies, “You’re acting weird again.”
“No, I’m not,” I snap. “And what do you mean I’m acting weird again? When have I ever acted weird?”
“All week, and I know why.”
My heart rate kicks up a notch. Don’t mention the kiss, don’t mention the kiss. “Oh, do you, now?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s because of what happened between us in the café kitchen.”
He mentioned the kiss. Dammit!
He licks his lips as though priming them to be kissed once more, his eyes beginning to smolder.
I take a step back from him. At all costs, I must avoid the smolder! Instead of looking at him, I concentrate on a spot on the wall just to the left of his face. “ That should never have happened. And I only kissed you because I felt guilty about opening that box of photographs.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “You kissed me because you felt guilty?”
I raise my chin defiantly. “Yes.”
“That’s a new one for me. I’m not sure I’d kiss someone out of guilt.” He pauses before he adds, “Not like that , anyway.”
My eyes dart to his face. Yup, full-force smolder.
I clear my throat as I push away the memory. “As I told you, it’s not going to happen again. I’m dating Seth.”
“The show jumper.”
I toss my hair and arrange my features into a confident smile. “Yes, the show jumper. Which is why I need to leave here soon, so I can watch him riding his horse.”
He nods slowly, and I can almost feel his eyes boring into me. “Well, I hope you have a good time.”
“I’m positive I will.” I give a brief nod and return my attention to the work. As I unwrap another photograph, I press on with point three in my four-point manifesto: mention Seth a lot. “Seth is a really great guy. I think you’d like him.”
“Sure.”
“He’s so sweet. Very thoughtful. So unlike other guys our age.”
“Good for him.” He crosses the floor to where I’m standing.
“Actually, I’d say it’s good for me . I’m the lucky one to have a guy like Seth.” I watch him for his reaction.
His eyes flick to mine as he places his hand on the photograph I’m holding. “I’m really happy for you.”
“I am, too.” I muster my most confident, breezy smile—as though him standing this close to me doesn’t throw me totally off my game. Which it so does.
Seth who?
My hands still gripping the photograph, Alex says, “Shall I take this one?”
Immediately, I let go of the frame. “Sure, yes. Good idea.” Heat rushes to my face. I turn away quickly, hoping he doesn’t see, and busy myself with the next box. It’s the final one, and as I pull out the first photograph I read the number on the back and say, “Could you grab my notebook and check where number forty-three should go? It’s there, on the stack of empty boxes.”
He picks it up and flips it over to look at the cover. “You’re into puppies, huh?” He holds the notebook up and flashes the image of the cute Labrador puppy at me.
I flush slightly. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing to carry around the sort of notebook I might have had when I was nine, but it’s not a crime. “I’ve always wanted one, actually. A golden Lab and a horse.”
“Well, you should make sure you get both someday.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Where’s your plan again?” he asks as he begins to flip through the pages.
“It’s the last entry, so right at the back.” I hold up a photo of an elderly man with a wizened face standing by an old, crumbling, orate building. “You know what? Looking at this right now, we might need to rethink the plan. This one should definitely be enlarged. I mean, I know we’ve already made the call to go with the one of the temple with the tree for this group, but this one could really pop.” I turn around to see him studying my notebook. “Don’t you think?” When he doesn’t reply, I snap, “Alex? Are you listening to me?”
Slowly, he looks up, his lips doing that sexy twitching that they do. Uh-oh. This can’t be good.
“What’s this?” He holds the page titled “Alex: Boundaries” up in his hand.
My heart begins to thud. He’s seen it. He’s seen my list.
The look on his face tells me he knows. He knows I’ve got feelings for him. He knows I’ve been struggling to contain them. What was I thinking. writing them down on the same notebook with the gallery plan? Epic fail, Darcy, epic fail.
I dash across the floor to grab the notebook from him, but he holds it up in the air. He’s got a good four or five inches on me, so I can’t reach it, even when I stand on my tippy toes. “Alex, give me my notebook.”
“‘No smoldering,’” he reads, then looks down at me, his eyes shining. Oh, he is so enjoying this. “Is that me doing the smoldering or is it you? It’s not clear from this boundaries list.”
I clamp my teeth together, my insides twisting. My face feels so hot, I know my cheeks must be the color of a ripe tomato by now. I reach for the notebook once more, but he’s still holding it too high. “My notebook, please.”
“And what’s this?” he says, completely ignoring my polite request. “‘Mention Seth a lot.’ Did you think I’d be especially interested in Seth? Because I can tell you right now, I’m not.”
Humiliation floods every part of me. I reach up once more to try to grab the notebook from him, but he moves it to his other hand, and instead, I look like I’m trying in vain to swat flies. “Alex!” I say, shocked my voice comes out wobbly. “That’s enough.”
His eyes land on mine, and his expression instantly changes. He lowers the notebook, closes it, and holds it out for me. I try to take it from him, but he doesn’t let go. “Shame about number two.”
Number two on the list flashes before my eyes. No kissing.
I pull the notebook from his grasp and clutch it to my chest. All I can manage is a nod, my heart thudding like a cannon, my cheeks so hot with embarrassment, you could scramble eggs on them. I swallow and tear my eyes from his. “You weren’t meant to see that.”
“I’m glad I did,” he replies, his voice soft. “You see, what it tells me is that I’ve been on your mind. So much so, you’ve had to write a list of ways to avoid how you feel about me. You see, the thing is, Darcy, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too. That kiss—”
With a burst of bravery, I stand tall. “I don’t want it to happen again.”
He nods at the notebook in my hands. “Is that why you’ve got a list of boundaries? Because you don’t want to kiss me again?”
I lift my chin. “Because I’m seeing someone else.”
His lips curve into a small smile. “Someone called Seth. Point three on the list.”
“Yes. Seth is sweet and kind and not a jerk. All the things you are not.” I think of the girl in the photo I saw at his place, and of his poor, broken heart, and add, “To me, anyway.”
He scrunches up his face. “I’m not not a jerk?”
I raise my head and give him a superior look. “Yes. A double negative makes a positive.”
He has the audacity to laugh. “That’s all very well, Ms. English Teacher, but does that make me a jerk or not a jerk. I’m still unclear.”
“Are you always this frustrating?” I ask in exasperation.
“Only with you.”
The memory of our kiss rushes at me like a charging bull. No. I won’t go there. Boundaries! Boundaries!
The amused look on his face tells me he’s fully aware of my internal struggle right now. “Darcy? Can I ask you something?” I give a reluctant nod, my notebook still clasped to my chest as though I need to keep it warm for fear it could die. “Why do you think I’m a jerk?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. It’s a genuine question.” He places his hand over his chest. “From the heart.”
“But . . . but you know why.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t.”
I blink at him. Seriously? He can’t remember what he did? Did I mean that little to him that I could be completely forgotten? I drop my notebook from my chest and turn away from him. My mind is bumbling around like a puppy on caffeine. I’ve been carrying around this hurt for all these years, hating him for it, and he doesn’t even remember doing it?
I feel his hand reach out and touch my shoulder and I instantly tense. “Darcy, if there’s something I’ve done, or not done, just tell me. I’ve been trying to work it out ever since I got back to this country.”
My anger flares as I round on him. “You really don’t remember?” I ask in disbelief.
“Look, if you tell me what it is, who knows? Maybe I can fix it.”
I lock my jaw and stare at him. “High school. I was fourteen. You kissed me at that ice cream parlor and then took off with Cora Huntington. Any of that ring a bell for you?”
Realization dawns on his face. “That? You hate me because of that ? Darcy, it was one kiss a million years ago.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “I wanted to I mean something to you, and you . . . you hurt me.” I’m mortified to feel tears sting my eyes. I hurriedly blink them away as I raise my chin boldly.
He lets out a puff of air. “Darcy, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal to you. If I’d known it would hurt you this much, I wouldn’t have kissed you, even if you did look as pretty as you did that day.”
“It was more that you told me after you wanted a woman, not some girl.”
He scrunches his eyes closed. “Geez, I was such a dick.”
“Yes, you were.”
He studies me for a moment. “Darcy, I get that it upset you, and for that I am truly sorry. You’ve got to believe me that I had no clue I’d hurt you like this. I was a dumb teenage kid. I’m not that person anymore.”
I chew on my lip. “You know what? Nothing you say can ever undo it.” I turn my back to him as I struggle to control the emotions swirling around inside. He may have apologized, but I’ve carried this thing around for so long now, I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of my hatred for him.
Without it, what have I got?
A voice inside of me tells me what I’ve got left is a guy I’m crazy about.
But I’m not ready to admit that to anyone.
Especially not Alex.