“This is Zara,” I said, amused that he’d claimed to like her, yet apparently didn’t even know what she looked like. “I thought you knew her.”
She laughed. “Nah, I know Nate. Your husband here usually only hangs with the big dogs. I’m glad you could both make it.” She gave him a onceover that felt both curious and dismissive, then leaned in to kiss my cheek. “I’ll find you later. Enjoy the party.”
And then she was gone, swallowed by the crowd, the noise, and the art. Alex stared after her for a beat, his eyes tracking her as she vanished. “She knows Nate.”
“Yes. That’s what she said.”
“I have a hard time believing he’s into this scene,” he said slowly. “Although Nate’s private life is incredibly private. After I got back from California, he was all grown up and not really interested in sharing his social life with his big brother.”
Unable to resist—and frankly, not even really trying—I reached for his forearm and tried to ignore how hard it was when I gave it a reassuring squeeze. “That probably would’ve happened whether you’d left or not. Colin and I don’t really share a social life either even though we’re close and we’ve both been in Chicago all along.”
His chest rose and fell on a deep inhale, but before he could say anything else, he was intercepted by someone, then by another someone, until suddenly Alex was sucked into conversation with a cluster of artists and patrons who smelled opportunity like blood in the water. I watched it happen with detached amusement as he was maneuvered toward a display, nodding politely while one of them launched into an impassioned explanation of texture and intention.
I stepped back until I was a safe distance away. When Alex shot me a helpful, pleading look over his shoulder, I lifted my glass and smiled sweetly.Not a chance, my darling husband.
He was hounded to buy something and I watched him fend them off with humor and charm, until eventually he sighed, looked at the piece in front of him, and nodded. “Fine. That one.”
I nearly choked. The painting went against everything I knew he liked. I’d been in his condo. The aesthetic was clean and controlled, yet this was loud and abstract, a gold-threaded mess that felt sharp and emotional, completely wrong for the way he lived his life.
When he joined me again with his receipt in hand, I stared at him, deliberately widening my eyes. “That’swhat you chose?”
“What? I like it.”
“No, you don’t,” I countered, holding his gaze and daring him to argue with me. “You hate it, don’t you?”
“I don’t hate it,” he corrected. “I just don’t usually buy things that are so… disorganized.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. “Where are you even going to put it? Your storage locker?”
“In our condo,” he said easily. “Right outside our bedroom door. You’ll have to look at it every morning when you wake up.”
That stopped me cold.Ourcondo.Ourbedroom.
Since he’d told me there was no pressure to move in, I knew he didn’t expect it to happen immediately, but it looked like he still expected it to happen sometime. I didn’t know why that came as such a surprise to me, but it really did.
“Nah,” I said finally, deciding not to call him out on the wholeourthing right now. “I think it should go in your office. On the wall behind your computer so you can see it whenever you look up. For how much you paid for it, that’s the only way you’ll get value for your money.”
He chuckled, grabbing another drink, an espresso martini for himself this time, too. We left not long after, sliding our coats on as we said our goodbyes.
Given the weather, we’d taken an Uber to cover the short distance between our rental and the venue, and as we left, I was suddenly aware that Alex was looser. Laughing more. Smiling at me like the whole night was an inside joke we were sharing. Things felt light as air and I didn’t hate it.
Until we stepped outside.
Several inches of snow blanketed everything in sight, freshly fallen and still coming down hard, the street transformed into a landscape that was both unrecognizable and seemed treacherous. Alex stared at it, then laughed softly.
“Well,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “The Uber surcharge is going to bankrupt me.”
I burst out laughing then, and it wasn’t a polite chuckle or even controlled amusement. Instead, I laughed harder than I ever had, doubled over and breathless with tears stinging my eyes. Something had cracked open deep inside me and the sound poured out unchecked.
Alex froze, staring at me like I’d just changed the laws of physics. Seeing him look at me like that rewired my brain. I felt it happening in real time, my synapses misfiring and my carefully built walls trembling.
Am I… happy? Carefree?
The thought was so foreign, it almost scared me. Alex looked like he wanted to ask what was happening, but then the Uber pulled up, tires crunching over the snow and headlights cutting through the storm. The driver leaned over, rolling his window down to yell at us.
“You need to get in,” he said bluntly. “The drive is going to be real bad.”
Alex opened the door for me with one hand braced against the roof to shield me from the snow. I slid in, warmth enveloping me again, and he followed a second later, shivering once as he settled in beside me.
