Chapter 22 #2
I turned around and spotted a refurbished buffet that was set up as a bar and coffee station. The carafe already had hot coffee waiting in it. I grabbed a mug from the floating shelf above it and filled it to the brim.
“Can I help you with anything?” I asked.
Knox had done so much for me in the last twelve hours that I wanted to do something for him. I filled another mug with black coffee and took it to him at the stovetop.
“If you want to grab the toaster from under that cabinet there, you can slice the bagels and get them toasted.”
“Heard, chef.” I gave him a fake salute, and he rolled his eyes and continued to cook the bacon.
“Hey, Alexa, play The Lumineers,” Knox said.
Music filled the cottage as I sliced bagels and put them in the toaster. I looked over to Eugene with his head propped on the arm of the couch, watching Knox and me in the kitchen, then back to Knox, and was hit by a moment of realization.
This was why Connor was so insistent on me finding someone and settling down. He knew that lazy-Saturday feeling of being in the kitchen making brunch with your partner, your heart feeling whole and full. This must be what he felt with Colleen.
Knox was focused on cracking eggs and frying them in the leftover bacon grease. His arms flexed as he moved the spatula around the edges of the eggs. I loved the way that his veins strained a little as he tightened his grip on the handle.
Could I have this someday? Am I missing out on this, right here, if I continue courting Oliver? I didn’t know. But I did know that I wanted nothing more for the day: I wanted to enjoy that very moment. I wanted to soak in whatever the day had to bring and simply be.
“Here you go.” Knox set a plate in front of me.
“This looks delicious, thank you.”
He came around the island and sat down next to me.
“So…” He took a drink of his coffee. “Bananas, huh?”
“Fucking bananas.”
“I’ll make sure there is never a fruit salad at any state or formal dinner ever.” He smiled.
I laughed. “Thank you.” I took a bite of the sandwich, the egg bursting and dripping onto the plate.
Knox shuddered. “Fucking runny eggs on a bagel.”
“It’s amazing. Seriously, this is one of the best things I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
Knox coughed and I set my sandwich down to pat him on the back.
“Hands up, big guy.” I moved his arm over his head and patted him on the back again until the coughing spell subsided.
“There,” I said. “We’re even now. You saved my life, I’ve saved yours.”
He smirked at me. “God. You and your fucking smart-ass mouth.”
Vince
Birdie, are you okay? What the fuck happened last night? One minute you’re with the queen tasting pastries and then the next thing I know, Oliver told me Knox took you out the back because you had an allergic reaction?
Hi. I’m doing fine. I did have an allergic reaction and got sick. Oliver decided I should go to Knox’s house so the press didn’t see me and make up some wild story. But now I’m stuck here until this storm passes
This sucks. I’m the worst friend ever. I should have been there. I’m so sorry, B
Vince, stop! You’re not a bad friend. It was an accident. Oliver and Knox were there for me and got me sorted out. It’s all good.
I mean, you’re at the palace, this could be good. You could walk up and stay with Oliver
Oh God
I set my phone next to me on the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket around my shoulders, cuddling deep into the cushions.
We had spent most of the day on the couch with drinks and junk food, watching holiday movies.
The only time Knox had gotten up was to let Eugene out for about two seconds and to refill the popcorn bowl and our drinks.
Knox’s phone chimed with a few text messages. He read them, letting out a huff and throwing his phone onto the coffee table.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah.” His tone was clipped and unconvincing.
“Try again.” I nudged the side of his leg with my foot.
“Vince is blowing up my phone asking what we’re doing.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him we’re watching movies and eating junk food.”
“And that made you mad?”
“No. He asked if I would walk you up to the palace so you could stay with Oliver.”
“Oh.” I looked at him. Really looked at him.
He sat in the corner on the opposite side of the large couch, feet resting on the coffee table and Eugene’s head on his lap.
He wore gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, his tattoos spilling out from the sleeve.
His scruff had grown out a bit and was well on its way to being a beard if he didn’t shave it soon.
Those gold wire-rimmed glasses sat on his nose and his hair was messy.
He was so hot. But he was also clearly bothered.
“Do you want me to go up to the palace and stay with Oliver?” I asked.
His head snapped to the side, eyes softening as they took me in.
“Do you want me to take you to Oliver?”
The fire crackled in the fireplace as the Christmas movie marathon we had started hours ago played on the television.
I was happy. For the first time since I had been in Wexstone, I was truly comfortable and happy.
I didn’t have to worry about squeezing into a fancy dress and praying that my feet would callus over before I had to shove my fat toes into another pair of heels.
I didn’t have to listen to Bronson critique every little mannerism.
I didn’t have to put on a fake smile for people I couldn’t care less about, and I didn’t have to convince myself to feel something for someone I didn’t love.
That day with Knox had been the perfect day.
“No. I don’t.”
“Then I won’t,” he said as he stared into my eyes for a few seconds longer. Then he grabbed my foot, pulled it onto his lap, and rubbed my sock-covered toes.
“What should we watch next?” Knox asked as the credits rolled along the screen.
“What are my options?”
“Christmas Vacation or It’s a Wonderful Life.”
“Christmas Vacation,” I answered, perhaps a bit too adamantly.
Knox gave me a questioning look.
“My mom’s favorite Christmas movie was It’s a Wonderful Life. We watched it every year on Christmas Day.”
“Her birthday,” he said knowingly.
“Her birthday,” I answered.
“Christmas Vacation it is.” He hit play and the music started. “This was my dad’s favorite Christmas movie. Honestly, it was one of his favorite movies in general. He loved Chevy Chase.”
“Knox,” I said as I pulled my foot back and sat up. “We don’t have to watch this. We don’t have to watch movies anymore. We can play cards, put on a TV show, whatever.”
“Birdie,” he answered, grabbing my other foot and pulling it into his lap. “I want to watch this with you. I love this movie.”
“Oh.” I lay back against the arm of the couch and pulled the blanket up to my chin. “I want to be there.”
“Where? Chicago?” Knox asked, pointing to the television that hung above his fireplace.
“No,” I giggled. I paused, taking a breath. “There, where you are. That place where you can experience things your parents loved without being triggered into a panic attack or being flooded with memories that wreck you.”
Knox picked up the remote from the coffee table and paused the movie. He turned so his whole body faced me, giving me his entire attention.
“This,” he waved his hand over his body, “took nearly a decade of talk therapy and a few years on an antidepressant to get to. It wasn’t easy, but I’m glad I did it. Have you ever done any therapy or anything?”
I ran my hands along the hem of the blanket.
“You don’t have to answer that. I shouldn’t have asked. It was intrusive, I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I think we’re at the point in our friendship where you can ask me those things.” I took another deep breath. “I went to the school counselor for a few months after my mom died because I wasn’t doing great in school.”
“But that was it?”
“Yeah. I don’t like to talk about the hard stuff. Talking about it makes me feel…well, it makes me feel like I did last night. Sick to my stomach and like I’m on fire.”
He just nodded in understanding.
“I know I probably should. Connor found a therapist when he went to college. It’s probably why he has the perfect life with the perfect wife and daughter,” I laughed wryly.
“You don’t truly believe that, do you?”
I shrugged. “Yes and no. I know that he went through the same trauma. It’s just hard to remember sometimes when he lives this Leave it to Beaver life.”
“Have you talked to him about your mom and how you feel about everything?”
“Oh, hell no. It’s like this unspoken thing in our family.”
“Maybe you should talk to him about it. I bet he would be happy to talk to you since she was his mom, too.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I fiddled with the hem of the blanket and ran the material through my fingers. Knox rubbed my foot, giving it a squeeze.
“You’ll get there one day. You’re determined, and if you want something, you get it.”