Chapter 8 Now #2
I wedge my hands beneath my thighs. The urge to touch him, to rake my fingers through his dark messy hair, to grip his shoulders, draw him close, taste and touch and take what I want, is nearly unbearable.
“And?” Alex says.
I blink, dazed. “And… what?”
He arches back to dodge an incoming bee, revealing a sliver of his stomach. Tan, taut skin. Dark hair arrowing down to the waistline of his jeans, the muscles that form a V at his hips. My thighs clench against a sharp, pounding ache. My brain wipes clean.
Alex, thankfully, is too distracted by the bee to register my lustful crisis. As it zooms away, he straightens and his shirt mercifully drops. “You were saying you brought up vacation days to Fern?”
“Oh. Right!” I smile. “You’re looking at someone who requested and was approved for seven straight days of vacation, starting August second. What do you think of that?”
Alex lifts the plate up to the sun, clearly noticing I licked it clean. He throws me a knowing grin. “I think it’s a start.”
I scowl as I watch him walk away from me. “I think it’s a superb start!” I call.
Alex leans over the pool and tickles Mia’s armpit, wiser than I was, positioned so he isn’t splashed with water as she kicks her legs.
“Gotta clean up inside,” he says to us. “I’ll be back out soon.”
“Let me?” I ask.
That’s our routine—when Alex cooks, I clean up. I’m one of those weirdos who finds doing the dishes therapeutic.
“Nah,” Alex calls over his shoulder. “I’ve got it. Thanks, though.”
I frown, a bit put out by his rejection. I can count on my hand the number of times in the past two years Alex has turned down my offer to clean up after he’s cooked, and it would involve raising one finger.
“Thea!” Mia says. “Is that your phone?”
I pat around my pockets, then the lawn chair, where I find it wedged behind my butt. Sure enough, my phone is buzzing. “Either my hearing is going,” I tell her, “or yours is getting even better than it already was.”
Mia points to her ears and says, deadpan, “I hear everything.”
“Unnerving,” I mutter. I tip my phone away from the sun’s glare and smile when I see who’s calling.
Lauren’s face fills the screen, dark sleek hair brushing her shoulders, oversized black sunglasses hiding her eyes.
“Hey, Lo!”
“Hey!” she says. “Sorry I missed you last night. Client dinner ran long, and by the time we wrapped up it was one in the morning your time.”
“That’s okay,” I tell her. “How are you?”
“Living the dream,” she says.
I tip my head. “I can’t tell if that’s a serious statement, or—”
“Is that LoLo?” Mia yells.
Lauren smiles and hollers back, “Hey, Mimi!”
Mia paddles down the pool toward me and shoves her sunglasses up onto her head.
“Hi, LoLo,” Mia says. “How ya doing?”
“Oh, I’m great,” Lauren says. “How are you?”
“I’m splendid!” Mia yells. “Tonight, we’re having a Holidays in July Day StoryTime party at The Bookshop, and I get to stay up late, and we’re going to eat cake pops Daddy and me made and read holiday books and I’m going to wear a pretty red dress and my new gold sandals.”
Lauren nods seriously. “Red dress, gold accessories, very chic.”
Mia sighs. “Yeah, but I wanted to wear my new white dress that Ethan got me, and I wanted Mommy to wear hers, too, but Mommy said Ethan said we have to save our pretty white dresses for our special ’casion at our beach vacation.
Mommy and Daddy and Ethan and Thea and Argos and me are going to the beach!
” She spins and plunges back into the water.
My stunned brain chugs sluggishly along each word.
Special occasion…
New white dresses…
Oh, God. Ethan and Jen are getting married on our vacation.
Lauren says loudly, “Thea, what the fuck!”
Mia pops up out of the pool. “Dad! LoLo said a swear! I get another cake pop!”
Something slams inside the kitchen. “Dammit, Lawrence!” Alex yells.
I clap a hand over my face.
“Another swear!” Mia yells gleefully. “Two cake pops!”
Lauren leans in so close I can see her pores, which, for a woman who gets regular facials and has baseline flawless skin, is an achievement. She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Thea, what the hell is going on?”
A glowering Alex storms out of the kitchen, two cake pops clutched in his hands.
I tell Lauren, “It just happened, I swear. That’s why I wanted to talk last night. Ethan and Jen invited us on a ‘two-family’ vacation in August, because they have something important to share with us that’s going to ‘impact Mia.’ That’s all they said. They’ve been very cryptic.”
Lauren pulls back enough that I can see more than one eye and the bridge of her nose. “I don’t like it.”
“Neither do we. But Alex and I agreed whatever this ‘important something’ was, it was worth dealing with for Mia.” I dart a glance at Alex, who’s grumpily handing Mia her cake pops, then lean in and whisper, “I just realized that ‘something important’ is probably Ethan and Jen’s beachfront wedding. ”
Lauren hisses out a faint, extended, “Shiiiit.”
“It makes sense, right? White dresses? Special occasion? What else could it be?”
“Nothing. That has to be it.” She leans in, too. “So are they expecting you two to be their witnesses? If so, that’s… weird.”
“I really hope not.” I rub at my suddenly throbbing temple. “Can’t wait to drop this bomb on Alex. He’s seemed off since we decided to go, until today, at least. Today, he finally seemed happy.”
“I was happy,” Alex says.
I startle, nearly dropping my phone.
Alex crouches, meeting Lauren’s eyes on my phone screen. “Until now,” he says.
“Alec,” she says stonily.
“Lawrence.” He narrows his eyes. “You cost me two more cake pops.”
“You’re welcome, Mimi!” Lauren calls.
Mia lifts both cake pops in the air and lets out a celebratory whoop.
Alex massages the bridge of his nose.
“So,” Lauren says to us, “this vacation sounds like a nightmare.”
Alex shoots me an accusing look. “You told her already?”
“Obviously,” Lauren says. “She tells me everything.”
A muscle jumps in Alex’s jaw. He stands and tells her, “Later, Lawrence.”
“Leaving so soon?” she asks sweetly.
“Staying,” Alex tells her, “would risk more swears—and thus more cake pops—at which point my kid will be so sugared up, I’ll have to peel her off the ceiling.” He turns to me. “I’m going to finish cleaning up the kitchen.”
I sigh, slumping back in my lawn chair. “Lo, do you always have to give him crap?”
“Yes,” she says. “Now, tell me all about this vacation. Take it from the top.”
“I’m not sure this is a quick FaceTime conversation topic. Maybe we can talk later, once you’re done with work? I’ll be up way past my bedtime anyway, doing cleanup after the event. That should line up well for you on West Coast time.”
Lauren shrugs. “Now is fine, too. I’m flexible.”
I blink, a bit stunned. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that about yourself. Outside of physical flexibility.”
Lauren tugs her sunglasses down and smiles serenely. A tiki drink appears in her hand, which she takes a long tug of through a twirly straw. “At Frances the therapist’s encouragement, I took the day off. No work for me today.” She feigns two very unconvincing coughs. “I’m ‘sick.’ ”
“Lo!” I beam at her. “I’m proud of you. And I like your therapist.”
“I think I finally like my therapist, too. Now, fill me in.” She settles deeper in her chaise and smiles. “I’ve got all day.”