37. Christopher
thirty-seven
Ihad a little time alone with Barbara, before she had to go back to New York. I gave her some breads to take home. Mostly, I wanted to thank her for visiting. There was no way Alexandra wasn’t missing Barbara, even if she’s acting all tough around me.
“What you need to understand about Lexie….” Barbara said. “She’s bottled so much in. When her mom died, her grandmother was pissed about having to take her in. Can you imagine what that does to a kid? I stuck around just for Lexie, to tell you the truth. At that point I was done with Rita. There’s so much a friend is going to do, you know? And do you know what she told my Lexie once, when she saw her crying? “No wonder your father left when you were a baby. Bet he couldn’t stand the crying.”
My blood boiled in my veins, and I didn’t know what to say.
I could tell it was the same for Barbara. “She was ten years old! Can you imagine? She wasn’t even allowed to mourn her mom, and on top of it, she’s blamed for her father leaving. All in one little sentence. Rita… what a bitch.”
My heart broke thinking about what Alexandra went through when she was barely older than Skye. I clenched my jaw. “But you stuck around…”
“I stuck around, as much as I could. For Lexie. That girl is a treasure. Believe me. All humans have a fear of abandonment,” Barbara continued. “But Lexie lived it several times in her life, to the point where she’s internalized it as something that is bound to happen to her.” She paused and looked me straight in the eye, and although she didn’t give me the Don’t you hurt her speech, she might as well have. “Her father left when she was a baby. Her mother died. And her grandmother, her only family, never loved her. Lexie is always preparing for the next letdown.” Barbara shook her head. “I’m overstepping. I shouldn’t have said that. What do I know? You seem to make her happy,” she added with a small smile. “Just thought I’d give you a little context on why she can appear closed off sometimes.”
“Appreciate that.” I hope Alexandra will open up to me. Tell me more of these things about herself. Make it less heavy for her to carry.
The days after Barbara leaves, Alexandra seems preoccupied, but it’s nothing she feels the need to talk about. I think back to what Barbara said, but I don’t push her. Instead, I try to read her. I’m sure finding out she’s going to meet her grandfather soon has to be a little nerve-racking. Not to mention that he’s with Barbara. That’s a plus, but I bet it’s awkward.
Speaking of awkward, the dinner at Emma’s is tonight, and man I’d like to find a valid excuse to get out of it. But I can’t. She’s my CPA. If not a friend, a solid acquaintance. Our daughters are BFFs. And this is a small town.
There are certain things you can’t get out of.
Let’s get this over and done with. I’m showered and changed, Skye is already over there on a play date after school. I just need to drag my ass there and come back asap.
“You look good,” Alexandra says as she looks up from her book. A sad smile plays on her face while her gaze sweeps me top to bottom and back up.
“Hey,” I say as I approach her. She’s stretched on the couch, her long legs propped up. I’m late already, but I don’t want to leave. Why did I commit to that stupid dinner, when I could be having a night in with Alexandra? I scooch her legs over and plop on the couch, my torso turned to her front, my hands naturally falling to the sides of her face, down to her neck. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
She bites her bottom lip and does the tiny little hiccupy breath that nearly kills me. “Of course,” she says.
She’s definitely not okay. “You can come with,” I say. “I’m sure Emma would love to have you.”
We both know it’s a lie. Even if Emma has remained strictly friendly with me, and been friendlier to Alexandra the couple times she’s been here to do the books, we both know Emma would have invited Alexandra if she’d wanted her there.
“I’m sure she would,” Alexandra plays along, “but that would make us a couple, right? I mean, assuming that an invite to you extends to me.”
“Right.”
“Which we agreed, we’re not. Right? We’re not a couple.”
My hand finds its way under her sweatshirt, up to her breast.
She hisses, “Chriiiiiiis.” Her nipple hardens under my fingers, and her hips buck up.
I tug the lace of her bra to the side. She’s so soft, her pearly nub hard just for me. I pull her sweatshirt up and lower my mouth.
“Right?” she repeats, killing my half boner.
Not a couple. Right.
Not right.
“About that,” I say, placing the bra back over her breast and pulling her sweatshirt back down. “What is Red Barn’s policy about working from home?”
She frowns, like she doesn’t understand my question.
“Mmm?” I insist.
Her eyes bore through me like she’s somewhere else. “I don’t know,” she says.
“Why don’t you find out.” I dip my head back down, to her face this time, grazing my lips against hers. “Sick and tired of this shit, beautiful. You’re totally under my skin, and in a good way, and I want to take this further. You and me.”
“Chris… what if it doesn’t work out? You and me. What about Skye?”
Well, first things first, I need to know if she wants this. If she wants more with me.
Or if I’m just the distraction.
“Let’s talk about it another time,” I say.
She nods almost imperceptibly. “You need to go.”
I trail my hands down her sides and cup her hips, giving them a squeeze. I can’t wait to have you again. “I shouldn’t be back too late.”
She shrugs. “Don’t worry about me. Grace texted me to hang out. I might take her up on that.” She dives back into her book.
I want to worry about her. “Good.” I stand up, relieved that Alexandra won’t be alone tonight. Feeling less guilty. “Alright, lemme get this out of the way,” I groan, talking about my evening with Emma.
“Have fun,” she says without looking up.
I lean over to kiss her temple, and almost say love you as I do, the words coming to my mouth naturally, she’s so ingrained into my life.
When I get to Emma’s, there are candles on the side tables in the living room. She takes my coat and sways her hips when she goes to hang it up. She’s wearing a short, tight skirt and a blouse that shows her bra pattern, especially when she leans over to pour me a drink and pass the nuts.
I’m annoyed already.
Skye and Caroline provide me with a much-needed relief from small talk when they come down to show us their costumes and perform a little play they improvise. Then, we move to the dining room.
The table is set for four with flowers, a fancy tablecloth and napkins, and stem glasses for the adults. She went all out. Or is she always like this?
Emma’s conversation is lively and probably fun if you’re into whatever shit Emma does. She’s a great mother. I can tell by the way she looks at her daughter and engages in conversation about her friends, the school, and her ballet. After a while, I have to admit she’s more interesting than I ever gave her credit for.
After a couple of glasses of wine, I relax and start to actually enjoy the evening. Except she’s placed me so that I have a view through the kitchen door of her ass every time she leans over to check the roast in the oven, and her cheeks flush slightly when I talk to her, and she bites her bottom lip when she smiles.
And this evening is turning into the trap I thought for sure it wasn’t going to be.
My mind wanders to Alexandra all the fucking time.
“When is Alexandra leaving again?” Emma asks when Skye mentions her for the millionth time.
There’s no way she doesn’t know that. She’s put her contract under a microscope, trying to get me out of it without losing the grant.
She failed.
Before I have a chance to answer her first question, she fires a second one. “Did she finally find a place to live? I heard the bed and breakfast was offering long-term rentals on their rooms with kitchenettes.”
Skye smacks her lips. “She lives with us. I love her. She lets me braid her hair.” She whispers something in Caroline’s ear, and the two girls giggle.
Emma cocks an eyebrow. “She’s still living with you?” Her voice is strained. “Why, you should have brought her along.” She stiffly taps the corner of her mouth with her embroidered napkin.
“She’s pretty independent,” I say. “Does her own thing.”
“Normally, she has dinner with us every night,” Skye chimes in, not realizing she’s contradicting me, “but tonight, she’s going out with friends because Daddy has plans.”
She’s going out with friends? Why do I not know this? She said she was hanging out with Grace.
“That’s nice,” Emma says.
Skye nods. “She says she loves it here, and her heart will break when she has to leave.”
“When is she leaving again?” Emma repeats.
“Who is she going out with?” I ask Skye at the same time.
“She is leaving at the beginning of summer,” Skye says with a sigh. “But she said I could visit her in New York.”
I mentally count down the time I have left with Alexandra, and my heart tightens a bit. That’s why I wanted her in the beginning, I tell myself. Because she wasn’t going to stay. Wasn’t going to have demands or disrupt the balance of my life with Skye.
Everything is different now, and I need to have that conversation with her.
When Emma stands to clear our plates, I don’t make a move to help her. Instead, I pull my phone out while she has her back to me.
Me
Where are you
Alexandra might find that too demanding. I shouldn’t impulse-text like a fucking teenager.
Me
Skye says you’re out with friends
Better, but not quite there yet.
Me
Let me know if you need a ride back
That seems like a legit excuse to text and ask questions. That’s three text messages in a row, though, so I put my phone away.
I have it on vibrate, but no message comes through. The thought of her out with friends is driving me crazy. Another impulse, and I send Grace a message.
Me
You girls out somewhere?
I know I have no right to ask questions or have expectations, seeing as I’m having dinner at Emma’s, and she’s putting on a show.
Even if I don’t, and if I’ve been clear with my intentions regarding Emma, there’s clear indications she’s treating this as a date.
Maybe even a pre-nup visit. Taunting me with the goods—the gorgeous house, the impeccable food, the nice hostess manners.
I didn’t think I’d ever want this, but I do.
I want this. I want this with Alexandra.
A big house full of our babies. A large backyard opening to the woods, a big tree with a swing for Skye and a hammock for Alexandra. Lots of open space. A back patio with a barbecue. A hot tub.
I would turn the upstairs of the bakery into a couple more apprentice rooms. Turn it into a school.
Or maybe Alexandra would rather stay in the village. God knows there’s enough empty rooms in the upper level of the bakery. I could easily turn them into bedrooms and playrooms. We’d watch our kids through the window as they’d walk themselves to school and skate on The Green.
I can see my life like that, clearly, and I want it to happen.
Now.
Emma sends the girls upstairs to play in Caroline’s room “while the parents clear the table and do dishes.” I’m getting more uncomfortable, especially when Emma pretends to accidentally brush her body against mine or when I hand her the dishes to load the dishwasher. There’s a domestic quality to this that suggests months or years of living together, and I feel like I’m cheating on Alexandra.
As if to confirm my suspicion, Emma says, “This was nice. I could get used to it. We should do it more often. Make it a habit.” She’s leaning against the sink suggestively, her hands clasped on the edge so that her back arches and her breasts are pushed toward me. I feel a little sorry for her.
“I wouldn’t want to get the rumor mill started,” I say. I wipe my hands on a rogue kitchen towel—I don’t want to get closer to her by reaching for the ones she neatly hangs next to the sink. I call Skye from the bottom of the stairs. Time to go.
Emma snorts. “Says the guy who has a gorgeous, single woman sleeping under his roof for months. Actually sharing his life.”
I shrug. “It’s work. I didn’t pick her. And she’s leaving soon.”
“Speaking of which,” she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Do you know she’s helping other businesses with their social media?”
“Yeah, she’s great at that. I have no problem with it.” Emma is seriously getting on my nerves right now. “I actually encouraged her.”
“Seriously, Chris?”
“What.”
“Aren’t you worried?” She turns her back to me while she hand-washes a pot.
“About what.”
“About her failing her apprenticeship.”
“I want what’s best for my apprentices. Always. If they find out during their stay with me that baking is not their path, that’s fine.”
“Chris,” she says, turning around, her eyes pleading. “For whatever reason, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, and—”
“Emma—”
“Let me finish. As your longtime friend, and as your accountant, I can’t just sit there and watch you jeopardize your business because of her. Because of anyone, or anything, for that matter.”
“The fuck you talking about.”
“Your grant! That’s what I’m talking about. You do know that it’s owed back within the year if she fails her exam, right?”
I close the kitchen door. Not that Skye would understand, but she’d get that we are arguing about Alexandra. Hell, she’s so sharp she might even understand the gist of it.
“From the looks of it, she’s spending more time outside on her phone than in the bakery, Chris. Does she know what’s at stake for you?” Emma continues.
Blood thrums in my veins. She thinks she’s looking out for my best interest, but she’s messing with Alexandra, and I can’t tolerate that. “You stay out of this, Emma. This gets out, I know it was you. You’re the only one who knows. I know why you’re doing it, and I appreciate it. But you’re crossing a line.”
I want Alexandra to thrive doing something she loves. And I can handle the financial repercussions of losing the grant. I don’t need someone to tell me how to run my business. Not even my accountant.
Emma frowns. “She should know, Chris. It’s not fair to you. She’s like a frigging teenager, spending more time outside on her phone than in the bakery, for chrissakes. She needs toknow what’s at stake for you. Hopefully she has enough decency not to let you down once she knows.”
I was annoyed at first, but now I’m angry. “You only know this because I gave you access to privileged information. Confidential information. This better not get out of this room, because, Ems, no one else knows. So if Alex finds out, I’ll know it was you, and I’ll make sure everyone in town knows how you treat client confidentiality. Are we clear?”
She raises both her hands. “I’m only looking out for you, Chris.”
“I appreciate that, but I’ll say it again. You’re crossing a line. Alexandra is a great girl. You’d find out if you gave her a chance. She’s loyal, and hardworking. I want the best for her, and I will not sacrifice her well-being for my business.”
I gave this some thought recently, did my calculations. If Alexandra dropped out or failed the exam, it would be tight. But I would make it. I’d take struggling financially for a few years if it meant Alexandra would be happier.
And yes, a thousand times yes, if it meant she’d stay here for good. With me.
“I wouldn’t want anyone’s well-being to be sacrificed for any business,” I say. “Are we good?”
“Of course we’re good,” Emma says as she wipes the kitchen counter. “Last thing I want is for her to get between us.”
I can’t hold against Emma that she wants what’s best for my business, but this conversation is taking us back to the awkwardness of the evening. Seems to me she’s trying to get between Alexandra and me. But I can’t tell her that.
So I end the conversation by opening the kitchen door and calling Skye again.
Skye reluctantly trails down the stairs, Caroline in tow.
“Mommy, can Skye sleep over tonight? Pretty please?” Caroline asks her, her hands clasped together.
Emma forces a sweet smile. “That’s fine with me. Chris? Skye is at home here,” she says, laying it on heavy.
I’m so angry at Emma right now, I almost say no out of principle. Not a mature dad reaction, but hey. We all have our limits. But my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I glance at it. Grace is confirming that us girls are at The Growler, and yes, Alex is there, too, and they’re all having a lot of fun. I didn’t ask about Alexandra, but for once, I’m not annoyed by Grace’s assumption about what I’m really asking.
I’m rattled by the argument with Emma, even if I’m glad I set her straight. I don’t want another argument with my daughter, one I’d have for no reason. And then, there’s the fact that if Skye stays here, I could join Alexandra at the Growler. Keep an eye on her.
“Sure, bug, that’s fine,” I say, feeling like shit. But then, why should I? Skye wants to spend time with her friend, and if that frees me to have that adult time Grace keeps telling me about, where’s the harm?
I’m rewarded by Skye jumping in my arms, hugging me tightly before rushing upstairs.
There’s no reason for me to feel bad. I’m not a bad dad.
When the girls are out of earshot, Emma says sweetly, “Nightcap? I don’t want you to leave upset at me.”
I’m in a fucking hurry to get out of here now. “I’m not upset at you, Emma. I know you meant well.” And that’s the truth. “But I should get home. Early start tomorrow.” And that’s not the truth of why I’m leaving.
She sashays toward me, one hand on her hip. “Come on, Chris, you’re not gonna stay a bachelor all your life, now, are you?”
I’m embarrassed for her. “Not gonna happen, Ems. We already went over that.” I grab my coat from the rack next to the kitchen door. “Thanks for dinner. This was really nice.”
“Anytime,” she says, her lips drawn in a tight line.
As I reach the door, she pecks my cheek.
Once in the truck, I rub my cheek, suddenly worried about lipstick.