Alex sighed, seeming lighter. Had he really been that worried about Greyson breaking my teapot? “Thanks for letting her hang out with Mia and Kitty. Just let me know if she becomes too much. She, uh, has a lot of energy.”
“Yeah, she does.” The other morning she’d burst into the condo and convinced Mia and Kitty to follow along to old eighties Jazzercise videos on YouTube. I’d watched from the couch until Greyson started clapping and kicking in front of me, forcing me to join them.C’mon, Jo! Elevate that heart rate! Swing it out!“But she’s a fun kid.”
Alex smiled widely. “Yeah, she is. Sometimes a little too fun. The morning runs help, though.”
“She reminds me a lot of my nephew.” I looked away. I hadn’t meantto bring up Samson. There was too much to explain, and I didn’t want to do it now.
Alex nodded, and I could tell he already knew about Samson by how his mouth, always ready to smile, flattened. I wondered what the girls had told Greyson about Samson, and what Greyson had told him. Though the girls sometimes hung out with Greyson at Alex’s place, so maybe they’d told him themselves.
“What was he like?” he asked.
“Oh.” I fidgeted with my keys. “He was... great.”Great? Like that did any justice to who Samson was.
“You don’t have to talk about it.” Alex ran a hand through his hair, and the silver at his temples caught the sunlight, not in an unappealing way. I dropped my gaze again, shaking the thought from my mind. Alex tapped the mail against his leg. Maybe he was as eager to escape this conversation as I was. “If you need a break from the teenagers, feel free to send them over. I’m sure I can whip up enough food to keep them occupied.”
“If food is involved, I’m sendingmyselfover,” I said. “With the girls, I mean.”
“Whenever you want. I’m happy to cook for everyone.”
“That would be great.” There was an awkward pause, and I was about to turn to my door when he spoke again.
“Oh, I meant to ask. I was wondering, seeing as we both live here and work on the boat, would you be interested in carpooling? You know, to save expenses and, uh, climate change. You can say no. I just feel a little silly watching you leave at the same time when we’re going to the same place.”
“Oh.” The proposition took me by surprise. I didn’t need to be spending more time with him than was necessary, and yet I couldn’t think of a single excuse that wasn’tI can’t spend too much time with you because I keep thinking about that time I kissed you, and that obviously couldn’t be spoken aloud. “Sure,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Awesome.” Alex tapped the mail against his leg again. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. You’re usually ready at eight forty-five, right?”
I found myself staring at the spectacular view of his thighs in those neon-green running shorts. “Huh?”
“Eight forty-five. That’s when you leave?”
“Oh, yeah.”Bad idea!my mind shouted, but I didn’t listen.
He glanced at the phone strapped to his arm. “Well then, I’ll see you in just over twenty-four hours.” He nodded and turned away, jogging across the parking lot.
I went inside and sat at my desk while the girls continued to sleep. On the boat Alex and I talked freely, about the girls, the guests, our strange neighbors. But the few times we’d run into each other off the boat could only be described as awkward. Would carpooling be more like our boat conversations or our interactions on land? I thought Alex had been avoiding me, seeing as he never came around outside of work, but now here he was, basically inviting me to spend more time with him. It didn’t make sense.
There had to be a way to get out of carpooling, but I still couldn’t think of an excuse. I turned my mind back to the list and opened my laptop, sifting through marathon listings for a race that took place on my birthday. At least my birthday cake would be well deserved. Today was a practice day, I told myself. Tomorrow I reallywouldrun four miles.
I turned at a sound from behind me and found Kitty’s face looming over my shoulder.
“It’s rude to spy on people,” I said.
Kitty looked me up and down, no doubt taking in my still-heaving chest and flushed face. “In English class this year we did this whole unit on Japanese poetry, and my teacher showed us this one poem in which all the words meant more than one thing.”
“That’s... cool.” I turned my attention back to the screen. Thirteen-year-olds were so random.
Kitty sighed and placed her chin on my shoulder. “You don’t get it.”
“Synonyms,” I said, scrolling through another page of race listings. “Words that sound the same but mean different things.”
“No, that’s homophones.”
I spun my chair around to face her. “All right, Professor Catherine, what’s the lesson?”
Kitty pointed to the thirty-by-thirty list. “Run a marathon. You don’t need toruna marathon with your legs.”
“How else am I supposed to run it?”
