Chapter 12 Now
The first winter after I met Alex, he started a tradition of walking me to work on the days he didn’t have Mia, calling me on the days that he did.
I knew I shouldn’t let him, that it was too much to take from a friend, but it was so comforting to walk alongside him, or to hear his voice in my earbuds, as I trudged through the dark, cold mornings, and be reminded I wasn’t alone.
I tried so many times to say he didn’t have to, it wasn’t necessary, but every time, he’d tell me, Three sisters, Ted. I’ve got three of them, and if they were living alone in a city, walking to work before the sun was up, I’d want their friend to see them safely there, too.
The sister angle was my loophole. I could accept Alex’s chivalry because it was brotherly, because in his explanation for his generosity and protectiveness, he’d essentially labeled me a fourth sister, and that made his chivalry safe.
When the outer door to my building comes into view, I miss a step and nearly slide down the rest of the way. Argos looks up at me white-knuckling his leash, fighting for my life on the stairs, as if to say, Would you get a grip?
“How,” I ask my dog, “am I supposed to do that when he’s out there waiting for me. And looking like that?” I point to where Alex stands outside my building in a backward Pens ballcap, a faded heather-gray T-shirt, hands in his jeans pockets, staring at the sunrise bathing him in a soft peachy glow.
Argos harumphs.
My heart rate doubles.
As I push open the door, Alex turns and smiles. “Morning, Ted.”
I can’t help but smile back. “Morning, Alex. What…” I let the door fall shut once Argos decides to cross the threshold. “What’s up?”
Alex reaches out a hand toward Argos’s leash. “I’m taking the dog today, aren’t I?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I thought you’d meet me at The Bookshop.”
Alex’s hand curls around mine before he slides the leash up onto his wrist. “And I thought we could walk and talk.”
“Okay,” I say quietly.
Argos takes the lead, tugging toward the crosswalk. Alex and I fall into step behind him.
“I’m sorry,” Alex says, “that I’ve been quiet the past few days.”
“You don’t need to be—”
“Ted.”
I glance over at him.
Alex’s eyes hold mine. “I’m sorry. I got all in my head about going back to the restaurant full time, and I had to lock down and get myself straightened out before I got back in touch. It had nothing to do with you, but it affected you, and I wish it hadn’t.”
An odd, awful pain stabs through me. I was disappointed that Alex dropped off the radar when I thought it was to reset after our flirty nonsense at The Bookshop. But I’m devastated that he went quiet and it had nothing to do with me, or us.
I shouldn’t be. I should be relieved—it means that our friendship is solid, that we’re safe, that he wasn’t spiraling about how good it felt to be that close when we were scaring off Kate, touching, whispering, moving together—
I shake my head, snapping myself from my thoughts. Then I take a step closer to Alex, so our arms brush, so I can feel his warmth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I thought you wanted space.”
Alex shrugs. “You didn’t need to listen to my anxiety spiral about work-life balance and potentially ruining my relationships and losing myself in my job again.”
I slide my fingers into his hand that isn’t yanking Argos back and squeeze. “No, I didn’t need to,” I tell him. “Just like you didn’t need to walk me to work.”
We come to a stop at the crosswalk, waiting for the light. I lean my head on his shoulder. “But I want to,” I say quietly. “Just like you do. Because that’s what best friends do for each other. Right?”
Alex doesn’t say anything. But he turns his head and plants a kiss on my hair.
We’re almost to work when I finally get the courage to blurt out, “I think Ethan and Jen are getting married on vacation.”
Alex nods. “Yep, me, too.”
I come to a grinding halt. “You do?”
“Well,” he says, “Mia told me about the white dress Ethan bought her that matches Mommy’s and that has to be saved for a special occasion on our beach vacation. Seemed pretty intuitive.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Right, fair.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “I didn’t say anything, either.”
Alex’s gaze dips down to the sidewalk ahead, then back up to me. “How do you feel about it?”
A sigh leaves me. “Honestly, I don’t even know. It just feels weird—like a weird thing to do, roping us into it.”
Alex grunts.
“How do you feel about it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Same as you.”
After a beat of silence, I say to him, “And speaking of weird, is it just me, or is it odd that we’ve heard nothing else from Ethan or Jen about this vacation, and we’re a week away from the trip?”
Alex frowns in concentration, gripping Argos’s leash and leaning back to hold my dog steady as a flock of pigeons settles on the sidewalk ahead of us.
It makes my heart squeeze, that this is automatic to him, that he knows doggy training taught my goofy pup to sit, wait, and not bark when commanded, but it never managed to train the “Get the birds!” out of him.
“Part of why I wanted to walk you to work,” Alex says, “was to talk to you about that.” He whistles sharply, scattering the pigeons, then, as they shoot skyward, eases up on Argos’s leash. “I’ve been emailing with Ethan about logistics.”
My head snaps his way. “You two have been emailing?”
He shrugs. “Better than talking in person. That way I don’t have to constantly suppress the urge to shove my fist down his throat, just the urge to end every email with ‘Fuck off and have a terrible day.’ ”
I snort. “Understandable.”
Alex smiles my way. “Haven’t heard that snort in a while.”
We stop at the light, waiting to cross, and Argos sits like I’ve taught him, peering up at me with those big brown eyes, long pink tongue lolled out, eager for praise. I bend and give him a smooch on his head. “I don’t snort,” I tell Alex. “I chortle adorably.”
“You snort,” he says as the crosswalk sign flashes on. “And that’s adorable.”
Pleasure zings through me. I try to brush it off, to not tuck it tight in my heart. I’ve already hoarded too many moments like this, the past two years, shoved them behind a door that creaks with the pressure of so many dangerously tender, meaningful memories, feelings, desires.
Alex clears his throat. “Anyway, Ethan and I have been emailing about the trip, and so far, we’ve discussed a tentative menu, conditioned on what’s available locally, our arrival time, and who’s driving with whom, but I obviously wanted to get your input. He’s getting Jen’s.”
I shrug. “You know I’m up for anything, menu-wise.”
“Even oysters?”
I gag reflexively. “Nope, not those.”
Alex tsks. “I’m gonna do it, Ted. One day, I’ll find an oyster recipe that you like.”
“No amount or combination of butter, lemon, herbs, wine, or anything else I love will ever make a sea booger taste or feel like less of a sea booger.”
Alex belly laughs. “You know that just makes me want to try even harder, right? I love a challenge.”
I smile. “I know you do. What about arrival time? They’ll be there already, right? So it’s just a matter of when we get there.”
He shakes his head. “They nixed the two-week stay. Between us being able to take off only a week and Jen saying it’s too much time away when she needs to prep for the start of school, Ethan decided he’d ‘accommodate our schedules.’ ”
“How magnanimous of him,” I say dryly.
Alex grins. “He said we should aim for the ass crack of dawn Monday morning, which, annoyingly, I agree with. I haven’t been to Bethany, but whenever I’ve gone to Ocean City, summertime traffic was hellish any time past sunrise, with how many people were driving inbound for their rentals.
I realize we’re getting there Monday, so it probably won’t be as bad, but I figure, better safe than sorry.
Unless you tell me that when you used to go, it was on a Monday, and it wasn’t bumper to bumper. Maybe Ethan’s just fucking with me.”
As we stop in the gravel parking behind the store’s staff entrance, I turn to face him. “I wouldn’t know.”
Alex frowns. “What do you mean?”
I shift the strap on my cross-body bag where it’s digging into my shoulder, then fiddle with the buckles, even though I know they’re secure. “He never took me to the beach house.”
A thick, charged silence stretches out between us, like the uneasy hush that falls right before the skies open up.
I don’t have to look at Alex to know he’s furious on my behalf.
I try to push past it, because the last time Alex got fired up for me, I told him I loved him, and I definitely said it in a way I shouldn’t have, while feeling a way I shouldn’t have, either.
Who knows what I’ll do this time, if he goes on another one of his protective, impassioned tirades.
“I’ve actually never been to the beach before,” I babble, because anything is better than this silence. “At least, in person. Been to some pretty beautiful beaches in my reading adventures, though. I’m excited to see the real thing!”
I throw my arms around Alex’s neck, quickly hugging him goodbye, then springing away. “Thanks for walking me to work.” I bend to kiss Argos’s head. “And for walking this goofball to doggy day care. I’ll pick him up after work; then we’ll get a good walk home. See you tonight!”
I rush toward the door and immediately curse myself for not having remembered that the staff entrance lock sticks so badly; I have to wiggle my key in it for half a minute before it gives.
Needless to say, my entrance to work will not be a swift exit from this conversation, and I really wanted it to be.
Suddenly, a warm hand wraps around my elbow, spinning me around. I bump into Alex’s chest and wheeze out air as he curls his arm around me in a wonderfully strong, bone-crushing hug. And then I melt into him, like the sucker that I am. My head plops onto his shoulder.
Alex rests his head against mine. I feel his heart thundering in his chest.
I lift my head, looking at him. Alex looks at me, too, his nose brushing mine for a moment, before he eases back, but only a little.
It’s not enough. Want hums through me: in my fingertips, aching to sink into his hair; my lips, desperate to taste his; every inch of my body pressed close against Alex, begging to press even closer.
My body, my heart, they’re a magnet to his.
Every time we come close, it’s closer. And every time it’s harder to pull away.
I overpower the impulse to give in by reminding myself of the first time we kissed, how dangerous that was, and pull myself back, putting enough distance between us that I’m capable of thinking straight.
“You’ve really never been to the beach?” Alex asks. “He never took you?”
I shake my head.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Didn’t seem like something to bring up.”
Alex is quiet for a moment, his jaw tight. “Well,” he finally says, “now that I know that, I’d say we have our decision on who’s driving with whom.”
“Oh?”
“You, me, Argos,” he says. “Ethan, Jen, Mia.”
“Really? You know Argos has noxious nervous-car-ride farts.”
“Exactly,” he says.
“I don’t understand.”
“Everything I’ve suggested, Ethan’s countered with the opposite. And this time, I’ll graciously give him what he asks for.”
I bite my lip. “That is devious.”
His hand skates up my back, a soothing, gentle touch. “That is the least he deserves.”
He lets go, then steps past me, sliding Argos’s leash higher up onto his wrist. I watch him grip the doorhandle and lift up as he turns the key I’d abandoned in the lock. They key wrenches smoothly left. He just… opened it.
“What the heck?” I ask.
Alex shrugs. “The restaurant’s back door lock has always stuck like that, too.”
I take the key from him, peering down at it. “Thanks,” I tell him quietly.
He brushes his knuckles along my arm. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay.” Sighing, I meet his eyes. “I’m going to ask Fern for a meeting before we leave for vacation. I’m nervous about asking her. And I’m terrified of the meeting. But I’m going to do it.”
Alex smiles so wide, it makes my heart skip a beat. “To go over your business proposal?”
My smile’s reflexive. “Yes.”
Alex yanks me into another hug, crushing me to him. “I’m proud of you, Ted. You deserve to go after what you want.”
I smile against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Thanks. I’m proud of me, too.”
“Good,” he says into my hair. “Because what you’re doing takes guts.”
“You’d know, wouldn’t you, Chef?”
“It’s not the same.” Alex lets go of me and steps back. “I’m not head chef at the restaurant again.”
I clasp his hand in mine and squeeze. Alex has been dipping his toes back into working in the kitchen at his restaurant over the past year, on the condition that his former sous, Olu, remain the head chef.
I know he’s scared to throw himself back into work there full time—so much so that even the limited number of hours he’s been putting in feels like playing with fire.
“No,” I agree, “you’re not head chef right now. But you’re working your way there.” I squeeze his hand again. “That takes guts.”
“Well, that’s true,” he says. “Olu is a fucking drill sergeant. An absolute nightmare to work under.”
I roll my eyes.
Alex grins, taking a step back. “Hope it’s a good day at work, Ted.”
I smile as I watch him start to walk away.
“Alex!” I call.
He turns around, facing me.
“Hope it’s good for you, too,” I tell him.
Alex tips his head. He looks confused. “Hope what’s good?”
“A good workday,” I explain.
His expression clears, then brightens. “Oh, it will be.” He starts walking backward, wearing a sly smile that means he’s up to no good. “Even while Olu’s yelling at me for how poorly I prep mirepoix, after I send that email to Ethan, I’m going to be riding a real high.”
“Do not sign your email to Ethan with ‘Fuck off and have a terrible day!’ ”
“I won’t,” he says. “But I am going to derive an immense amount of satisfaction from the mental image of his choking on Argos’s noxious flatulence for six straight hours.”
A laugh jumps out of me. “Haven’t you heard, schadenfreude isn’t good for the soul?”
“Whoever said that,” Alex tells me, “never met Ethan.”