Chapter Seventeen #2
“Good.” His smile seemed small, private. More to himself than to me. Then that smile widened as he met my eyes. “I have drinks back there in the fridge.” He nodded behind us. “I thought we could do a little picnic.”
“Back where?” I followed his nod, twisting to look behind the front seats.
I’d seen a couple van lifer videos on YouTube—who hadn’t?
But I’d never been in a camper van like this.
I took in the setup: as small as it was, it was a quick look.
A countertop lined one side; a bed platform took up a large part of the back half.
I turned back to the front. “You really live in here?”
His nod was more of a shrug. “It’s not too bad.” His smile looked nostalgic, like he was remembering something he used to do, as opposed to a life he was currently living. “Once you get used to it.”
“And how long did that take?”
He gave a low chuckle. “I’ll let you know when it happens.”
We were in wine country now, and almost every turnoff was dotted with signs for wineries and vineyards.
We chose one at random and bumped down some dirt roads till we got to the parking lot.
Alex threw the parking brake and I hopped out of the passenger seat, deli bag in hand.
I thought we were heading into the winery, but instead he stopped at the back of the van, throwing the doors wide.
With a few practiced movements he created an entire picnic setup: an awning overhead to provide shade, a couple of small folding chairs and a table, even an outdoor area rug to protect our feet.
He gestured for me to have a seat as he hauled open the side door. “Water?” he called from inside. “Soda?”
“Water’s fine.” I set the bag on the table, bemused, as he emerged from the side door with two bottles of water.
I’d never had a picnic in a parking lot, but out here in the countryside it was more of a rolling field.
We got a couple weird looks from people making their way from their cars to the winery a few hundred yards away, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I was in the shade, I was drinking cold water, and I was eating a delicious sandwich next to a beautiful man.
What could possibly make this day any better?
Then, after lunch, we gathered all the trash into the original bag and Alex crumpled it closed before raising his eyebrows at me. “Winery tour?” He nodded toward the entrance.
“I thought you’d never ask.” Because air-conditioning. Air-conditioning could make this day better.
A few hours later we were on the back roads again, Alex behind the wheel and me with a souvenir bottle of red wine in my lap.
We navigated to a scenic outlook, finally parking the van on a hilltop not far from some hiking trails.
Once again he threw the back doors of the van wide, but this time we climbed onto the bed platform together, nestled into two large pillows and each other as the sun began to set.
“I have to admit…” Alex opened the wine and gave us each a healthy pour into two sturdy plastic stemless glasses. We clinked them together and sipped as nature began to put on its show. “I didn’t know Maryland could look like this.”
“Let me guess. More crabs?” I smiled around the rim of my wineglass as I took a sip.
“And Old Bay. Did you know someone put a can of Old Bay in my tip basket last weekend?”
I nodded sagely. “Sounds like Maryland.”
He chuckled. “But I never pictured this,” he said, his voice hushed, and for a long moment I watched him watching the sunset.
His eyes were wide and hungry, as though trying to memorize every moment.
“That’s another thing that I’ve loved about this job.
It’s taken me to so many parts of the country that I never would have thought to seek out on my own.
And every part of it is magical in its own way. ”
There was something in the way he spoke. A melancholy that I’d picked up on more than once this summer. “Loved?” I’d noticed the way he talked about his job. His life. In the past tense.
His nod was long and slow, his gaze still on the lingering sunset. “I’m going home after this.” The words came out in a tumble, as though admitting a secret he’d been keeping.
I nodded. But I was missing something; there was nothing wrong with taking a break from the road, right? “Where’s home?”
“My parents live in a suburb outside of Chicago, and they’re letting me crash with them for a while.” He sounded absolutely dismal. Maybe he didn’t have a great relationship with his family?
“What about after that? What’s the next stop on the renaissance faire circuit?” Surely talking about the good stuff, the shows down the line, would turn his mood around.
But Alex pressed his lips together hard, shaking his head. “No stops,” he finally said. “That’s all over.”
My stomach swooped as the floor dropped out of the conversation. “Over?” That was the last thing I’d expected him to say. “Why?”
“Money,” he said with a sigh. “My parents have been subsidizing this whole thing for a while, especially when Kyle and Brandon left me holding the bag. Canceling contracts really put me in a hole, and my folks helped me out with van payments and the occasional tank of gas. But…” His gaze dropped to his hands as he swirled the wine in his glass, the ruby liquid catching what was left of the sun.
“They don’t want this life for me. They don’t say it, not in so many words.
But whenever I’m home there’s always a lot of questions about my future, about settling down, getting married…
” The word hitched in his throat, and he met my eyes briefly before his gaze skidded back to the sunset.
“I don’t think they want a son who’s run off to join the circus, basically. ”
I leaned back against the pillows, my head full of this new information. “Wow,” I finally said. “You’re really not doing any of this festival stuff anymore?”
“Nope!” Alex’s voice was a little too loud, a little too cheerful, as he popped the p. “You could say that the season here at Willow Creek was my last huzzah.”
“But you never said…” I remembered now, Alex and Dex working on music on our back deck. Dex had made suggestions of ways to improve Alex’s show. His response then had been vague, dismissive, and now I knew why. There was no more show to improve. No more next seasons.
“I couldn’t.” It was a quiet confession. “I could barely admit it to myself, that I didn’t have what it takes, even though it’s the only thing I’m good at. How was I going to tell Dex or Stacey, or even Simon and Mitch, that this life is too hard? That I failed at it?”
“Hey.” I put a hand on his arm, getting his attention. Getting him to look at me. “You didn’t fail. You’re so good at this. You’re good at all of it. But it’s a hard life. Stacey would be the first one to say that to anyone who will listen. There’s no shame in…”
“Quitting?” He practically spit the word, disgusted with himself.
“Retiring,” I said more gently, and he gave a long sigh before tilting his head back, finishing the wine in his glass. My hand was still on his arm and he moved now, taking my hand in his, and I gave him a reassuring squeeze.
“What about you?” he finally asked. “What’s next for you after the season’s over?” The false cheer was back in his voice, and I got the message. Time for a subject change.
“I have an interview next week.” I took a long sip of wine. “With a firm in New York. So that’s progress.”
“Hey!” He nudged my shoulder with his. “That’s great!” He was the picture of the supportive boyfriend, and I focused on his words, rather than the residual pain in his eyes.
“It’s just an interview,” I said. “Let’s keep our expectations low.”
“I refuse,” he said, and now the cheer in his voice reflected in his eyes. “You’ve had a shitty time of it lately, and now things are falling into place for you.”
“I wouldn’t say it’s been that shitty,” I said.
Alex shrugged. “Lost your job…” He took his hand back and started ticking them off. “Moved back in with your mom…Got ambushed by your ex…”
I put my hand over his, folding all his fingers down. “That last one ended up okay.”
“Did it?” His eyes searched mine as though they held all the answers he was looking for. “It feels like last time, but worse.”
“Worse?”
“I thought I liked you before. That sweet young girl who was so sunny and optimistic.” I had to give a snort at that depiction of past me, but Alex continued. “But this? It’s more now. Isn’t it? It’s not just me, right?”
“It’s not just you.” I stared at our joined hands.
A couple weeks ago I would have been cackling at the idea that he’d fallen for me, and I could dump him the way he’d dumped me all those years ago.
Revenge and all that. But I didn’t feel triumphant.
All I could hear in the back of my mind was the ticking of a clock, counting down the days, the hours, that we had left.
“I wish that we…” He broke off with a sharp shake of his head, erasing the words he’d just spoken. “You deserve someone who has his shit together. Not a guy like me with a future all up in the air.” He gave a brittle laugh. “And I suck at juggling.”
“Hey.” I set my wineglass aside and took his face between my hands. “No one’s asking you to juggle.”
His lips quirked, acknowledging my attempt at humor, but heartbreak shone in his eyes. “The timing’s always wrong for us, isn’t it? We just found each other again, but our lives are going in different directions.”
“All the more reason to enjoy the time we have left,” I said. “We’ve got one more weekend.” I’d meant for it to sound optimistic, but the words knocked against my heart like a death knell.
“One more weekend,” he repeated, and it didn’t sound as bad when he said it. He nodded firmly. “You’re right. Let’s squeeze as much joy from it as we can.” He set his wineglass down on a ledge next to mine, then he reached for me, his amber-brown eyes alight in the fast-fading light.