Chapter Fifteen
Adelaide
Addie
I need your help. Can you convince my dad that my boyfriend isn’t evil?
Tabitha
Okay first of all, boyfriend?? We’re official now??
Tabitha
Second, I fully trust you but you’re sure he’s safe?
I groan, out loud, in the bead aisle of the craft store. I swear I’m going to explode if I have a conversation like this one more time. Sure, I guess it’s nice that my community cares for me, but they should also accept what I say the first time I say it.
Addie
We’re official now. As of yesterday. And I am 100% sure he’s safe. Don’t tell Willow tho. She’d never believe it
As expected, the second Willow got home and saw Zander, she ignored him. Did not say a word and headed upstairs to her room. Behind that slammed door, she called my dad and told him I had a criminal in my house. So. That’s how my life is going right now.
Tabitha
100% is a big percent!! I trust you. You’ve been around him long enough that you would have gotten some major red flags by now and I know you dump the red flags. Even Dan was just generically stupid, not evil. Double date sometime?
And now I’m about to cry in the bead aisle of the craft store.
I shove my phone into my tote bag and continue my shop.
All I need is red yarn and white fabric, for two separate projects, but I’m weaving my way through all the aisles just in case.
I keep walking until something catches my eye: a wooden fairy door that would look perfect attached to the oak tree in my backyard.
I pick it up and consider. There’s a daisy on the window in the centre of the door.
I need more daisies.
I drop it into my cart that still does not hold either of the things I came here for. I run my hands along the floral circle skirt I made years ago. It felt right after bearing my soul to Zander in the garden last night. If I’m being honest, everything feels right around him.
My phone buzzes in my bag, but I don’t take it out. I need to get what I came for and leave. Or buy the whole store. Either works.
I finally find the aisle with spools of fabric.
Late last night, I had an unhinged idea come to me in the form of a silly goose belt bag.
I sorted through all my fabric scraps in my pyjamas, hair wet from my shower.
The scraps were not enough so now I’m here.
I pull out soft, white fabric with little swirls patterned throughout.
This is it. I add it to my cart to be cut to size at the front desk.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Peggy Browning says.
I jump violently and remind myself to stop daydreaming about her grandson in public.
“Peggy!” I rush to hug her. She adjusts her glasses as I pull away. “What are you working on?”
“I always paint for Zander’s birthday. Give him something to make that bland apartment a little more colourful.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, even though I haven’t seen his apartment.
He’s been hesitant to take me out of town.
He doesn’t want anyone crying foul, like he’s kidnapped me.
I would love to say it’s an unfounded fear…
but I know he’s right. I’m just determined to prove everyone wrong.
“Wait, when’s his birthday? Is it today? ”
Peggy smiles tightly and taps the hand I have wrapped around the handle of the cart. The question somehow ages her ten years. I have the urge to hug her again and ease the guilt grandmother and grandson have over a past they can’t change.
“It’s today. June 28.” She sighs and her shoulders droop.
She looks me up and down and I wonder what she sees.
My hair is up in a bun today. I have no makeup on.
I’m all loud, bright colours and patterns—the flower skirt paired with an emerald tank top.
“Zander doesn’t like birthdays. I’m sure you can understand.
But I think he’d like to see you today. You’re good for him.
You’re so vibrant. You care. Would you mind wishing him a happy birthday? ”
“Surprise!” I say on Zander’s doorstep, arms loaded with cupcakes, candles, and a present wrapped in sparkly paper.
“Addie,” he says, face slack.
I’ve seen this man sad and dejected many times, mostly because that seems to be his default setting anytime he’s not looking at me, but this is the most pathetic I’ve ever seen him.
My heart tugs at the sight of him. Because here he is with his hair hanging limp over his eyes, making no move to flip it away, and his cheeks unshaven.
His shoulders are slumped, covered by a white T-shirt with a hole at the collar.
He doesn’t light up the way he usually does when he sees me.
No crinkles next to his eyes or bemused smirk.
Even Lucy lazes on the floor next to his sofa with sad eyes.
“I’m sorry. Do you want me to leave?”
He blinks several times, then shakes his head. “No, absolutely not. I’m sorry—you—I…I just wasn’t expecting you.”
“I should have called. I shouldn’t have just assumed you’d want company. Peggy told me it was your—”
Zander grabs my wrist, pulls me into his apartment. “I would have said no if you’d called because I’m a mopey son of a bitch. This is better. I would rather you be here with me.”
“Well,” I say as he takes everything from my hands and places them on his kitchen counter, “at least we’re self-aware.”
He snickers. “First time I’ve laughed today.”
Looking at him makes me want to cry. The charming man I know is nowhere today.
He blends into the gloomy grey of his apartment.
The walls, the furniture, even the light fixtures are all so dull.
No wonder he feels the way he does. I would simply wither and die if I came home to a place like this.
The only colour, as promised, are the paintings his grandmother made for him, a few dog toys sprinkled on the ground, and an orange flowerpot with an orchid I sent him home with yesterday.
I exhale. “Oh, Zander, honey, come here!”
He doesn’t fight me as I wrap him in my arms. His head falls onto my shoulder and I cradle it, looping his hair around my fingers.
All my senses are consumed by him; the feel of his soft, slightly damp hair, the woodsy scent of his shampoo, the touch of his large hands on my back, the measured, relaxed breathing.
“Do you want to sit?” I ask. “I have cupcakes.”
Zander pulls away, though it looks like it kills him.
He reverses, grabs the cupcakes off the counter, and reaches for me.
I take his hand, squeeze it like I want to squeeze him, and follow him to his leather sofa.
I crash land on top of him, folding my legs over his, leaving no room for personal space.
I eye the vanilla cupcakes with bright blue icing and rainbow sprinkles on the coffee table where he dropped them.
“Do you have a lighter?” I ask, leaning away from him to see if I can reach the cupcakes from here. “I want to celebrate you. Is that okay?”
“That’s okay.” He reaches behind him to a drawer on his end table and fishes around blindly. “Here,” he says, passing me a silver lighter. “It’s old. Don’t remember the last time I used it. But you can celebrate me if you want.”
“Don’t sound so sad about it.”
He smirks. “I’m sure Gran told you I hate birthdays.”
“She did. And I’m sure you’ll tell me all about that, but first!”
I lean forward and can’t quite reach with Zander’s hand holding onto my hip. I level him with a stare and he bites back another smirk, but lets me go. I free a cupcake from the plastic with a theatrical aha and Zander huffs out a bemused laugh.
Good. Oh, good.
I stick the stupid candle I found on my way out of the craft store into the icing, then lick my finger. Zander’s eyes follow every one of my movements. I light the candle and turn toward him with a grin.
“Happy birthday!”
Zander laughs so hard he blows out the candle. It’s a gold plaque in the shape of an oval with the words blow me inscribed in silver wax. Of course I would find the most obscene candle I could. Peggy even smiled as she saw me pick it up from an end cap.
“Did you make a wish? I didn’t get to sing for you.”
“You’re more than welcome to sing for me.”
“No, the moment is gone. Now’s the time for this.”
I remove the candle and shove the cupcake in his face.
He doesn’t expect it and winds up inhaling most of the icing.
He coughs through uproarious laughter and dives for a cupcake of his own.
I jump from the couch, armed with the spoils of the cupcake I crushed in his face.
It crumbles in my hand, perfectly moist and fluffy.
I raise an eyebrow, daring him to come at me.
We’re on either end of the coffee table, our legs spread in power poses, ready to spring.
He licks icing from his lips, leaving the blue blob on the tip of his nose.
Zander jumps first. He fakes me out to the left, before circling right.
I accidentally play right into his hands.
I propel myself forward and into his arms. They wrap around my waist, lifting me off the ground, and slamming me back onto the couch.
I’m on my back. He hovers over me, cupcake poised, only to drop it and kiss me. Mine falls to the floor. I gasp against his lips. The icing on his nose smears against mine as I taste the sweetness on his tongue.
“Sneaky,” I say as he pulls away. I ghost my finger along his cheek, removing more icing, and stick it in my mouth. “Sweet.”
“You picked out some good cupcakes, from what I can tell. Shame you can’t behave.”
“Oh my god, are you going to punish me?” I say it with a laugh, but something flickers in his eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” He straightens, pulling me up with him. I pluck my cupcake from the ground. Luckily, it didn’t fall facedown, but I’m sure Lucy will enjoy the crumbs. “Hey, if that’s what you’re into, then I would happily punish you…I think I’m just in a birthday funk.”
Zander settles back into the corner of the couch, wiping the last of the icing from his face. I take the opportunity to go back to his kitchen and grab his present. He watches me silently from his spot. I leave space between us this time, but he tugs me right back to him.
“Is that…I don’t know. Is that a birthday thing? Did you not get gifts? Did they ignore you?”
He runs a hand over his face, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “It shouldn’t matter now, right? I’m old enough to know better and understand they weren’t capable of loving me.”
“But that doesn’t mean you just get over it.”
“No. It doesn’t. I was never made to feel like I was important. My birthday was just another day where I was alive and a nuisance. I wasn’t worth it, especially on the day that was mine.”
I blink away tears, catch the one that’s managed to escape.
I kiss his cheek and he turns into me. He deepens the kiss, a hand coming to the back of my neck.
I let him take what he needs, decide when to break apart, when he’s found enough comfort in my lips, in my touch, in our shared heartbreaks.
The slow, sensual movements of his lips fill me with a deep soul ache, one that makes me certain it is my job to make him feel worth it for the rest of my life.
When he unglues himself from me, I get the sense it was too soon. His forehead rests against mine and our breathing twins.
“You’re worth it,” I whisper. “I promise, you are.”
“Thank you,” he breathes.
“And you’re stuck with me,” I say and shove his wrapped gift between us. “I made this for you.”
“This makes it seem like you did some sort of weird spell to bind us.”
“Believe it or not, witchery is not one of my whimsical hobbies.”
“But it could be.”
His fingers carefully slide through the wrapping paper and tape. He doesn’t rip it like I would. He unhooks the paper and folds it into a neat little pile. A generic brown box stares back at him, and he pulls at the thin red bow I used to tie it up.
Inside is a pair of socks, which, yes, is pretty generic as far as gifts go. But I made these. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been knitting a pair of black socks with multi-coloured polka-dots. I hadn’t figured out why until recently.
Zander only wears neutral colours, like he’s trying to blend into the background.
“Sunshine,” he mutters.
I exhale. He’s got it. I want to bring the colour back to his life and if it takes me one sock at a time, then I’ll do it.
“You’ve never been cherished before.” I cover his hand with mine. “Let me cherish you.”