28. Alexandra
twenty-eight
The day Skye has been so excited about finally arrives. Sunday dinner at King’s Knoll Farm. After we sell out of bread, Christopher hangs the “ Sorry, we’re closed” sign, and I run upstairs to get ready. I keep my shower short but still wash my hair. Not gonna lie, I’m nervous about meeting so many people at once. Nervous but happy.
I wrap my hair in a towel and slip on the plush robe that magically appeared in my bathroom the day Christopher had my whole bedroom redecorated. I’m applying foundation when Christopher knocks lightly on the half-open door.
“Hey, come in.” I close the bottle of foundation and grab my makeup pouch.
“You almost ready?”
“Just need to finish my makeup and blow dry my hair. I’ll be quick, I promise.”
He closes the door behind him. “There’s no rush,” he says, wrapping his arms around my middle and kissing my neck. Our eyes connect in the mirror, and we both grin. I pause my blush application midair.
He leans into me to grab the small beige bottle off the countertop. “What is this.”
“It’s foundation,” I answer. “It unifies the skin tone.” I dab some powder on my face but am more interested in what Christopher is doing now than in my makeup.
With both arms still around me, he drops a dollop of foundation on his finger and plops it on the tip of his nose, then spreads it around. “Like that?” he says.
“That’s totally too light for you,” I giggle. “You look like you’ve been in the sun with a clown nose on.”
He groans and wraps his hands back around me, nuzzling my neck. “You smell so good.”
“I just showered.”
“Unh-unh. You always smell good.” Taking a deep breath, he straightens himself, pulls the towel off my head, and runs his fingers through my hair, then massages my scalp.
I groan. His fingers knead the right places, instantly relaxing me, and I close my eyes for a second.
“Tired?” he asks.
“No. Just… a little nervous.”
He stops his skull massage and turns me gently in his arms so I’m facing him. “About what?” His eyes are searching me.
“Meeting all these new people,” I admit with a shrug. I know they’ll be lovely.
“They’re like family, Alexandra,” he says, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“I know,” I whisper. That’s probably why I’m nervous. “That’s… intense.”
“They’ll love you.” He runs a hand inside the opening of my robe, quickly finding my breast and stroking it, making me moan.
I bite my lip and boop his nose. “Then let’s not make them wait,” I say reluctantly, then turn around and grab the blow dryer.
“Let me,” Christopher says, and takes the dryer from my hand. He slowly runs my brush through my hair, first to untangle it, a delicious feeling, the tingle zinging from my scalp to my center and back up to my nipples.
“Shouldn’t you check on Skye?”
“She’s ready and watching Princess Dragon.” He turns the blower on, and I lean into the sensation of his hands on me, his attention on me, his eyes on me. A slow grin spreads across my face as simple happiness takes hold of me. He’s gentle in his gestures and slightly awkward in the most adorable way. I close my eyes, letting him take over, swaying under his touch.
When he’s done, he turns the blow dryer off and pulls me in his arms. “Beautiful.” His arms wrap around me, and he hoists me easily onto his hips. “Man, this bathroom brings back memories. Not gonna lie, been wanting to make you mine the minute I saw you in my bakery.”
My middle clenches at his words.
“But the first time I almost did was right here, you dripping in that T-shirt, eye-fucking me.”
I pretend to look offended. “I was not eye-fucking you!” I totally was.
He chuckles. “Yeah, you tell yourself that.” He dips his head to my neck, licking and nibbling.
“And you made fun of me!”
He pulls his head back to look me in the eye. “Made fun of you? I was so hard for you. You kept looking at my dick. Didn’t help.”
I giggle. He’s right. “The dildo,” I say, getting us back on the track of him making fun of me.
He trails his face down my throat. “Oh yeah. What happened to that little guy?” he asks.
I rock against his hard muscles, my middle connecting with his belt buckle. “I haven’t had much use for it.”
“Not much, huh?”
“None at all.”
His hand trails under my robe and kneads my bare ass. “I wonder why?”
“Been busy.”
“Who’s keeping you busy?” He slides two fingers inside me.
“God, Christopher.”
“Second time I almost fucked you, was at karaoke,” he says, moving his thumb over my clit. “Couldn’t stand seeing all those guys looking at you in that sorry excuse of a dress, shaking your sweet ass in front of everyone.”
I’m about to come. “Chriiiis. Please.”
“Come for me, beautiful.”
I do, digging my fingers in his shoulders, riding every last tremor in his arms.
He sets me carefully on the floor, turns my hair in a rope to my side, kisses me softly on the lips, and says, “Best makeup I know is giving you an orgasm.”
“Yeah?”
He trails my cheekbones. “You get all pink here. Your eyes are brighter.” He kisses my hair. “You glow even more than you usually do.” He wraps me tenderly in his arms, his beating erection between us. “We should get going,” he says with a deep sigh. “I need to get out of here,” he adds, chuckling. “How much time do you need?”
“I’ll be downstairs in five, but hold on.”
“What?”
“Let’s get rid of that,” I say, swiping a cotton pad with makeup remover on his nose. “There, better.”
He leans into me for one last tender kiss.
Minutes later, we bundle up. The air is sharp with cold, the sun again so bright on the snow, I wear my sunglasses. We pack several pies Willow made this morning with Skye’s help and climb into Christopher’s SUV.
His hand on the gear shift brushes my knee when we pull out of the driveway, and a small smile floats on his lips. He glances at me, mischief in his eye. Skye is looking out the window, singing the tune of the spring show.
My mind rewinds to what just happened in my bathroom, and I blush.
“Alexandra,” he growls.
“Hmm?”
“Stop.” He lifts himself off the seat and adjusts his jeans.
“Oh, sorry.” Not sorry. “You gonna be okay?” I ask, teasing.
He chuckles. “Probably not.”
Trees cast long shadows on the snow when we get to the farm, a large, white Victorian house with a wraparound porch. Several cars are parked in front, and I recognize Grace’s Jeep.
A massive red barn towers over the farm, built alongside a hill. Several outbuildings dot the majestic landscape of snowed-in, fenced pastures framed with thick woods.
“Wow,” is all I can say.
“Right?” Christopher says. “The land we’ve been through since we left the main road is all theirs.”
“It’s so quiet,” I say as we circle around to the trunk, the crunch of our boots on the snow the only sound.
He meets me behind the car, and grabs my hand.
“I wish… I could—” he stutters.
“I know.” I smile at him. “We’re keeping it professional. No worries.”
He nods in silent thanks and gives my hand a last tug before unlocking Skye’s door, then unlatching the trunk where we grab the pies and breads. “Come on, little bug,” he says. “Let’s go.”
“Aunt Lynn and Uncle Craig!” Skye cries, running toward the house, slipping on the driveway’s packed snow as she does.
A handsome couple in their fifties, both blond, fit, and tanned, are coming out of the house and pause on the top of the steps.
The woman glances my way, a kind expression on her face, then turns to Skye with wide open arms and lifts her into them.
The man kisses the top of Skye’s head and comes quickly down the steps. “Give me this, sweetheart,” he says to me, relieving me of the bag of breads I’m carrying. “You must be Alexandra. I’m Craig.”
“I am,” I say, glancing at Christopher. “Nice to meet you, Craig.”
“You trying to keep her a secret, son?” Craig says. “I knew about your new apprentice the minute she got here. Lynn was about to go snorkeling, and I was at the pool. I’d just ordered a daiquiri. I’ll never forget that moment.”
Christopher grunts, but his eyes are happy. “Knock it off.”
“That’s exactly when Sophie texted,” Craig continues. He turns to me, a twinkle in his eye. “Welcome to Emerald Creek, where your business is everybody’s business. Lynn is beside herself finally getting to meet you.”
Lynn greets me with a hug. After we leave our coats and boots in the mud room, she hooks her arm through mine and takes me to the great room, where everyone seems to be gathered, the men right behind us.
A fire is roaring in the hearth, and groups of people are scattered, talking and laughing. Grace is next to a window, a glass of red wine in hand, chatting with Cassandra and Sophie. Willow is plopped on the floor in front of the fireplace, playing a game of cards with people I don’t know.
Craig claps Christopher on the shoulder. “So, I hear someone finally got through to you and convinced you to do that TV show?”
I glance at Christopher and warm at his small smile. “You could say that,” he answers.
My belly flutters as I watch him and Craig walk away, talking about the competition as they join a group of men.
“Beer? Wine? Tea? Hot spiked cider?” Lynn asks me.
“Hot spiked cider sounds awesome,” I say and follow her to the open kitchen.
Haley is ladling mac’n cheese in baking dishes. “Can I help?” I ask.
“Nope, got it,” she answers. “You do enough food prep all week. Sit down,” she says, indicating the bar stools lining the island.
“Here,” Lynn says, handing me a steaming cup decorated with a cinnamon stick. “Our own apple cider doctored with local bourbon. Should warm you up.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
She sits next to me, nursing her own steaming mug. “So, tell me. How is our Christopher treating you?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Everything’s great. He’s a good boss.”
“Good. It helps that Skye is a sweetie. Christopher can be such a grump sometimes, but she softens him. How are you liking Emerald Creek so far?”
I tell her I love it here, and the back and forth continues effortlessly between us. She’s motherly in a way that brings tears to my eyes, asking who I’ve met in town, inquiring about my likes and dislikes in terms of food, and then asking me if I miss Brooklyn. All without ever putting me on the spot. Never making me feel like I should say something fake just to be nice. “But it must be so hard to be away from home,” she insists when I tell her how much I love living here.
“I’m not sure where home is,” I say. Although I’m already on my second mug of hot, generously spiked cider, it’s not the alcohol talking. It’s this woman. She’s so kind and deep, I feel like I could just crawl onto her lap and cry my sorrows, and she’d make it all go away.
“Awww,” she says, giving me a side hug, “we got ourselves another misfit.” Wow. Even Lynn, who I’ve just met, and is the nicest person, can tell I’m not cut for having a family. I guess it really is something in our DNA. People sense it.
Lynn sighs lightly, as if she hadn’t just said the most true and painful thing for me to hear. I can’t hold it against her. Actually, I’m grateful to her for the gentle reminder. This—the big family—is not for me, and if I had any fantasies popping into my head just by being here, I should nix them right away. I lean into her side hug, thankful for her levelheadedness, while she looks up at Haley and two tall, handsome guys who look just like Justin.
“Mom,” one of the guys says, shaking his head, “you’re crushing her.”
“I am not. This is my son Hunter,” she says to me, “and his brother Logan.”
“I’m not your son? Just his brother?” Logan says, looking dejected.
“It’s the same, Logan,” Lynn says, rolling her eyes as she stands from the barstool.
“Not the same to me, if you don’t mind,” Logan says, wrapping his mother in his arms.
“Awwww, baby’s gotta a heartache,” Hunter says, his hand on his heart. “Boo-hoo.”
“Shut up, Hunter.”
“Get over it, I’m her favorite.”
“Guys, really.” Haley rolls her eyes. “D’you have brothers, Alex?”
I shake my head, laughing at Logan and Hunter.
“You’re not missing out on much.” It feels to me that I’m missing out on a lot.
“Hey!” They both turn on their sister.
“Who picked you up drunk from that party your first spring break from college?” Hunter asks.
“Who covered the tracks in the snow under your window junioryear of high school?” Logan asks.
Yeah, definitely missed out on a lot.
“Kids, enough,” Lynn says, but her eyes are narrowed on Haley.
“Mom! You know they’re lying!” Haley says, her fists on her hips, her eyes throwing daggers at her brothers.
Hunter and Logan leave the room, laughing.
“Hey! Come back here!” Lynn says. “Bring the food to the table.”
Dinner is ready, so I grab two baskets of bread and set them on the massive table, then quickly move away to find the bathroom.
When I come out, my eye is attracted to a gallery of family pictures on the wall. It’s a mix of birthdays and Christmases throughout the years, candid photos at the lake and on the slopes, graduations and other more formal photos. One of them catches my eye.
It’s an old, black-and-white photograph of a man. I feel like I’ve seen it before. The way a lock of hair falls along the side of his face. The tentative, lopsided grin. I rack my brain and come up empty.
I must be mistaken. I’ve lived vicariously through so many of my friend’s large family stories and paraphernalia, pretending that I was a part of these large, messy, happy bunches, that I’m imagining things.
I need to stop this and just enjoy what the present is giving me.
As I head back to the dining room, Emma is walking in from the cold. Caroline dashes in front of her, cuts me off, and throws herself in the arms of a man I do not know. “Daddy,” she cries as he hugs her. Emma smiles at me and joins the crowd.
I have to give it to her. She even has the co-parenting mastered. She has it together. I’m impressed.
Before I get too deep on how Emma is this perfect small-town woman and I’m a hot mess, Lynn calls out, “Sit wherever you’d like.” She pulls two chairs out and adds, “Alexandra sweetheart, come here.” She’s patting the seat next to her.
“Welcome to King’s Knoll Farm!” Hunter bellows from across the room. “Where you’re invited to act as you please, then told what to do.”
“Hunter! I just want to get to know Alexandra. Unless you wanted to? You can have her for dessert.”
“Mom!” Haley cries out. The room falls silent, then erupts in laughter.
Lynn giggles. “Oh silly, that didn’t come out right, did it? You know what I meant.”
I’m laughing and blushing at the same time and can’t help but glance toward Christopher. Emma is pulling up a chair to sit next to him. And he’s glowering at Hunter.
Craig seats himself on my other side. “I feel suddenly very important, seated between you two,” I say. “It’s intimidating.” I don’t know why, I feel comfortable opening up to Craig and Lynn.
“We’re really shielding you from this crazy bunch,” Craig says. “We want to make sure you don’t go running back to New York before you have a chance to know us.” He leans closer to me, pretending he doesn’t want Lynn to hear. “Although I’m not sure my wife is the best at this social thing. She tends to put her foot in her mouth, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I do not,” Lynn says, passing a dish of venison.
I’m seated across from one of their farmhands and his wife. He tells me they’re getting ready for sugaring season, and that I should come and check it out when they get started. A wail erupts from the kids’ table, and his wife jumps out of her chair, but Haley is faster than she is. “Stay right there, I got it,” she says.
“Thanks, Haley,” the man says when she comes back. Then, to me, “We had our first three years ago, and then twins a year later.”
“Didn’t waste time,” Craig chuckles.
“She’s exhausted,” the man says, circling his hand around his wife’s shoulders. “I’m not much help at home.”
“You work your ass off all day,” his wife says, leaning into his arm. “Pardon my French,” she adds. She turns her face to him and kisses his cheekbone, right above his beard.
In another life, I would have wanted just that. The understanding. The messiness. The paycheck to paycheck.
The family.
The love.
I shake these thoughts away, and they’re replaced by others about Rita. I don’t remember her ever having barbecues or pool parties or any type of get together at her home where she’d invite staff.
This, here, feels like a family company to me. A place where you go to work, but where you also gather to relax, share a meal, be together.
I’ve never seen that at Red Barn.
After dinner, we all help clearing dishes and agree that we need a break before moving onto dessert. The kids go outside to make maple candies in the snow. I stretch and am shooed away from doing dishes, so I pull out my phone and take pictures of their beautifully restored farmhouse.
The massive fireplace, the cozy breakfast nook, the whimsical light fixtures in reclaimed barn wood, and so many other details, belong in a catalog.
“Would you like to see our cows?” Lynn asks me. “I bet you they’d look great in pictures. Someone said you’re really good at social media. Maybe we can hire you away from Christopher, huh? Hunter! Why don’t you take Alexandra to the barn?”
“Mom! Stop it already!” Haley huffs.
“I’ll take her,” Christopher says, coming out of nowhere.
Lynn’s eyes flit between us. “Oh. Oh, sure.”
Craig chuckles and shakes his head.