“Thank you.”
“I’m happy to help. Really.” With another understanding smile and another glance from me to Alex, she stands up and starts clearing the table. “Finish eating, sweetie. You don’t want Nico to be late.”
“Oh, right,” Alex says. He squeezes my shoulder again before letting his hand drop, and then he shoves the last of his waffles into his mouth and swallows as he pushes back his chair. “Ready to go?”
I am. But there’s a lump in my throat now. Because if his mom didn’t know about us before, I’m pretty sure she does now. Like, ninety-five percent sure.
I push my chair back and stand up, and Alex’s hand finds my back as he stands as well. “I’ll clear our dishes and meet you out at the truck?”
“Sure, yeah, thanks,” I reply.
He steps closer and lowers his head slowly, giving me time to back away if I’m notreallycomfortable kissing him in front of his mom. My cheeks flush with heat, but I nod my consent, and hiseyes brighten before he leans in the rest of the way and kisses me softly on the lips.
It’s a brief kiss, and I feel him smile against me as he kisses me a second time. Then he pulls back, grinning. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“’Kay.” I manage to hold myself together, and as Alex gathers our dishes and steps away, I take a breath and head toward the front door. “Thank you for breakfast, Ms. Hayes,” I say when I reach the door.
I glance back over my shoulder and see Alex standing next to her, setting the dishes in the sink. She’s got her arm around his waist in a half hug, and she releases him and turns around, her eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re welcome, sweetie,” she says. “Have a great day, and I’ll see you after work.”
I nod, hold her gaze for another second, and then head out the door to wait for Alex.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Alex
Nicojogsupthestairs ahead of me, his right hand on the railing and the other holding his cell phone. “I have the resumé I wrote when I applied for the job at the library. It’s in my email,” he says. “We could use that and update it?”
I nod. “Yeah, good plan.”
He reaches the top step and pauses to wait for me, and my heart skips a beat when my eyes meet his. He’s happy. He’s smiling and happy, and for the first time in a very long time, he looks hopeful. It’s beautiful.
“I talked with Caitlin and Sharon today. They both said I could list them as references if I need it. I knew Caitlin would agree, but I was surprised Sharon said yes. I mean, I’ve only been there a couple of weeks, so they don’t really know me that well. But they both said I’m doing a great job with the project and the other work they have me doing. Hopefully that helps if Vera contacts them.”
He’s talkative, too, which is new for him. He stuffs his phone into his pocket and takes my hand as I reach the top step. Our fingers intertwine, and he tugs me along with him on the way to the bedroom as he continues to go on about all the things, including the new information my mom gave him at dinner.
“So do you know exactly how far San Jose is from Palo Alto?If I get this job, should I look for an apartment there or closer to Stanford? It’s probably more expensive near Stanford, right?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Bro, I have no idea. But we can check it out, maybe after you send the email, yeah?”
He lets go of my hand and pushes the bedroom door open ahead of us. “You’re right, yeah. Resumé and send the email, and then we can—” He stops rather abruptly right at my desk and turns to me. I half expect to see him shutting down, like he remembered how hard this is all going to be and that the interview hemighthave, if the woman my mom knows likes Nico’s resumé enough, is just the very first step in a long, challenging process. But the light in his eyes hasn’t disappeared. In fact, it’s gotten brighter. Mischievous, even.
I smile crookedly at him. “We can what?”
“Nothin’,” he says with a smirk. He stretches up and kisses me quickly on the lips. “I can use your laptop, right?”
He’s already slipping into the chair at my desk and opening the laptop before I manage to mumble a quick “yeah” in response. My computer boots up quickly, and within just a couple of minutes, he’s sifted through his emails, downloaded his old resumé, and opened it up to edit it. We work together to add his high school graduation date, recent work experience, and references. Then he tabs back to his email and pulls out his cell phone.
“Vera Kotovskaya, Bay Area Arts Collective,” he reads from the text my mom sent him. He sets the phone next to him on the desk and carefully types out Vera’s email address on the computer. Then he freezes, his fingers hovering just above the keyboard. “I should be formal, right? Start with something like ‘Dear Ms. Kotovskaya’?”
“Yeah, I think so. I’ve sent a few emails for my mom, and she’s always told me to write formally like that,” I say.
Nico laughs and tilts his head back to look at me. “She hadto tell you that so you’d actually take the time to use complete sentences and type out full words.”
“She did not.”
He rolls his eyes and laughs again. “Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Then he shifts his focus back to the computer. “Alright, so... Dear Ms. Kotovskaya...”
He types; I watch. He thought he was going to need my help, but by the time he’s at the end of the short email introducing himself and asking to connect with her for a phone interview, the only things I contributed were to suggest rewording part of one sentence and to remind him to attach the resumé.
