Chapter 14
DEX
The knock on my door came at exactly noon.
I’d been watching the clock for the past twenty minutes, cleaning counters that were already clean, rearranging the dish towel three times, checking my reflection in the microwave door like some kind of lunatic.
This was ridiculous. I was supposed to be one of those rare things called an adult. I ran my own business. I could rebuild an engine blindfolded. I should not be this nervous about a woman coming over for lunch.
But this wasn’t just any woman. This was Leigh.
And this wasn’t just lunch. This was the first time she’d been here since that first perfect night. And the morning when she’d left wearing last night’s dress and I’d watched her cab disappear down my street with a stupid smile on my face.
Twenty-four hours. It had been twenty-four hours and I’d thought about her approximately seven hundred times.
I was in so much trouble.
The knock came again, and I forced myself to walk to the door like a normal person. Not too fast. Not too eager.
I opened it, and every reasonable thought in my head evaporated.
She stood on my porch in jeans that hugged her curves and a simple t-shirt that somehow made her look more beautiful than any dress could.
Her hair was up in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to frame her face.
She held a paper bag from the deli in one hand and a cardboard carrier with two cups in the other.
And she was smiling at me like I was the best thing she’d seen all day.
My heart did something stupid and I swear to God I swooned like some old timey princess.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey.” The word came out rougher than I intended. I cleared my throat. “You didn’t have to bring food. I could have cooked.”
She raised an eyebrow as she stepped past me, the scent of her perfume making my head spin. “You can cook?”
“I can make about three things without setting off the smoke alarm.”
“Three? That’s very specific.”
“Scrambled eggs. Grilled cheese. And spaghetti. But only if I don’t get distracted, and I’ll admit I cheat and use jarred sauce.”
She laughed, that full-throated sound that I was quickly becoming addicted to. “Then I definitely made the right choice bringing sandwiches.” She set the bag and drinks on my kitchen counter, then turned to face me. “Plus coffee. I know how you take it now.”
Something about those words hit me square in the chest. She wasn’t the only person in the world who knew how I took my coffee, but she’d paid attention. We had coffee once and she thought enough to remember it, because it mattered to her. Because I mattered to her.
When had that happened? When had we gone from strangers to this. To knowing each other’s coffee orders, to her moving around my kitchen like she belonged there?
I watched as she opened cabinets with confident familiarity, pulling out plates without asking where they were.
She knew I kept the cups by the sink. Knew which drawer held the silverware.
Knew I liked my water with ice but not too much because it watered down the drink too fast. All of these were details she’d seen only once, but she’d remembered.
“Earth to Dex?” She was watching me, head tilted, amusement dancing in her eyes. “You okay? You’re staring.”
“Yeah. Just...” I moved closer, couldn’t help myself. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Something soft crossed her face, vulnerability I was starting to recognize. “Me too. I’ve been thinking about being here since I left yesterday.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She bit her lip. “Is that weird? That I’ve been counting down the hours until I could see you again?”
“If it is, we’re both weird.” I reached out, tucked one of those escaped strands of hair behind her ear. My hand lingered on her cheek. “I’ve been watching the clock all morning like a teenager waiting for prom.”
She leaned into my touch. “That’s kind of adorable.”
“Adorable. Great. Just what every guy wants to hear.”
“Would you prefer devastatingly handsome? Ruggedly attractive? Criminally sexy?”
I grinned. “Those work better.”
“Well, you’re all of those things too.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed me. Soft, sweet, tasting like coffee and something uniquely her. “But the adorable part is my favorite.”
We stood there in my kitchen, foreheads pressed together, and I felt something settle in my chest. This. This was what I’d been missing without knowing it. This easy affection. This comfortable intimacy.
This feeling like I’d finally found where I was supposed to be.
“We should eat,” she said eventually, though she made no move to pull away. “Before the sandwiches get warm and gross.”
“Practical.”
“One of us has to be. You’re clearly lost in some romantic daze.”
“Romantic daze? Who taught you those words?”
She laughed and finally stepped back, grabbing the bag of food. “Come on. Feed me. I’m starving.”
We ended up at my kitchen table, her feet tucked up under her on the chair, shoes kicked off and left in a pile by the door. She’d brought Italian subs from the deli, the good ones with way too much meat and those peppers that were probably too spicy but neither of us cared.
“So,” I said around a bite of sandwich. “Dress shopping went well yesterday?”
“It was perfect. Delaney found this dress that...” She paused, got that soft look that came over her like she was thinking about something beautiful and I found myself freezing it my mind to keep forever. “It was stunning. Simple but romantic. She looked like she was glowing.”
“That’s good. She deserves to be happy. They both do.”
“They really love each other. You can see it in the way they look at each other.” She took a sip of her coffee. “It’s nice. Being around that.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Everyone was very supportive. About us,” she added.
“Told you they would be.”
“You were right.” She picked at her sandwich wrapper. “Blake kept making these knowing faces at me. Like she was in on some big secret and was just waiting for me to admit it.”
“That’s Blake. She’s not subtle about anything.”
“And Delaney has this way of looking at you like she can see right through you. Like she knows exactly what you’re thinking and feeling even when you’re trying to hide it.”
“That’s just Delaney. She’s got some kind of emotional x-ray vision. I’m fairly convinced that it unlocks in women when they become mothers.”
Leigh laughed. “That’s exactly what it feels like! Like she can see all my thoughts laid out in front of her.” She paused. “Reece is the quiet scary one though.”
“Reece? She’s not scary.”
“She doesn’t say much, but you can tell she’s watching everything. Processing. She made one comment about being prepared for things to be harder than we think, and it felt like she could see the whole future laid out.”
“Reece has been through a lot. She knows about complicated situations.”
“I got that sense.” Leigh took another bite, chewed thoughtfully. “Billie gave me a whole lecture about not overthinking things. Said I should just enjoy what we have instead of worrying about what comes next.”
“Smart woman. I always liked Billie.”
“They all seem to think this temporary thing isn’t going to work out the way we planned.”
I set down my sandwich, suddenly less hungry. “What do you think?”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at her coffee cup like it held answers. “I think... I think they might be right. That this is already more complicated than we thought it would be and it’s barely been twenty four hours.”
“Complicated how?”
“Complicated like...” She looked up at me, and there was something vulnerable in her expression. “Like I was supposed to be able to keep this casual. To enjoy the summer and then go back to my life like nothing happened. But I don’t think I can do that anymore.”
My heart started pounding. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this doesn’t feel casual. It feels like... like something more. Something important.” She reached across the table, laced her fingers through mine. “And that scares me.”
“It scares me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I squeezed her hand. “But maybe that’s okay. Maybe being scared means it matters.”
“Does it matter? To you?”
I looked at her, really looked at her. At the hope and fear warring in her eyes. At the way she was holding her breath waiting for my answer. We were both in deep here, but I think we’d also both known that before we even agreed to start.
“Yeah, Leigh. It matters. You matter.”
She exhaled, something like relief crossing her face. “So what do we do?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know.” She laughed, but it was shaky. “I don’t want to think about August. I don’t want to think about leaving or logistics or how this could possibly work. I just want to have today.”
“Then let’s have today. We can worry about everything else later.”
“Later,” she repeated. “I like the sound of that.”
We finished eating, talking about easier things. Normal conversations. Easy. But underneath it all was an awareness that this thing between us was growing into something we couldn’t control.
And neither of us seemed to want to stop it.
After lunch, we migrated to the living room. I’d meant for us to watch a movie or something, but we ended up on the couch, her tucked against my side, my arm around her shoulders, just talking.
She told me about growing up in Blue Point Bay, about being the only child and spending so much time at her cousins’ house that sometimes she’d forget she wasn’t actually part of their family. About feeling like the cousin who was always welcome but never quite belonged.
“So how’s it going?” I asked, gently broaching the subject she seemed to be avoiding. “Living at Jasper’s?”
She made a noncommittal sound, suddenly very interested in her cuticles and then a loose thread hanging from the hem of her sweater.
“Leigh?”
“It’s fine. The house is nice. Mom seems happy.”
“But?”
“But nothing. It’s good.” She wasn’t meeting my eyes.
I waited. One thing I’d learned about Leigh was that she filled silences when they got uncomfortable.