“We’re not throwing this out. I’m keeping it,” Alex said, setting it on the floor behind him. “You’re a real Renaissance woman, huh?”
I shrugged. An assortment of paintbrushes, a baggie of buttons, and several origami cranes were the only things left inside. “I’m not like you. I don’t have one thing I’m skilled at or passionate about. Beth says I don’t have enough ambition.”
“Ambition isn’t as important as everyone makes it out to be,” Alex said, setting the paintbrushes in the trash pile.
“Says the Michelin star–earning superchef.”
“It wasn’t as great as it sounds. Why would I want to be killing myself day and night at a restaurant, when I could be here with you decluttering your condo?”
I rolled my eyes and passed Alex the paper cranes one by one, not saying anything until the box was empty. “I don’t know. I feel like I should’ve done more with my life by now.”
Alex inspected one of the paper cranes, then set it beside the sea glass coaster. “I know your sister means well, but if you ask me, I think you’ve made a pretty good life for yourself. You’ve got a job you love. A best friend who would definitely murder someone for you, and who maybe already has. Great family. This stunningly organized condo. And you get to spend your days nursing a crush on a hot yacht chef.”
I laughed. “I think you mean I spend my days beingannoyedby a hot...” I paused, and Alex grinned. “A perfectlyaverage-looking yacht chef.”
Alex shook his head. “Damn. I wasthisclose to getting you to admit I can be Hot Yacht Chef.”
“That’swhat you wanted? I thought you were desperate to get me to admit I have a crush on you.”
Alex shrugged. “Why state the obvious?”
I scanned the floor around me, my cheeks burning. “I’ve decluttered all the things I had to throw at you.”
“One box left,” Alex said. “Then food.”
I pulled the box closer and took a deep breath before lifting the lid, knowing what I’d find inside. After the mug incident with Kitty that first week, I’d put away everything that might remind the girls of Samson. Right on top was a photograph that used to live on my fridge. In it, Samson and I stood on either side of a tiny bonsai tree, wide grins on our faces. That was the first time I’d taken him to the Morikami Museum and Japanese Gardens. He’d made me take him back every summer since.
“What’s wrong?” Alex said. “Please tell me that’s an embarrassing photo from high school.”
Unable to speak, I handed Alex the photograph. When he looked at it, the humor disappeared from his face. “Samson, right? You have the same eyes.”
I cleared my throat. “I think... maybe put that in the trash pile.”
“What? Why?”
I sat back, wrapping my arms around my knees. “I don’t feel particularly... joyful... looking at that. Whenever I run into something of his...” I shook my head. “I’d just rather not be reminded.”
When I glanced at Alex again, he was staring at the photograph in his hands, his brows knit together. He caught me looking at him, and his expression softened. “How about I hold on to it, and when you’re ready, I’ll give it back,” he said. “It’ll probably be sooner than you think.”
I sighed, feeling an ache in my chest. “Okay. Yeah. I guess that could work. You won’t lose it, though, will you?”
Alex smiled. “See? You don’t really want to get rid of it.” He passed the photo back to me. “I told you it would be sooner than you thought.”
The next moment Alex was on his feet.
“Where are you going?” I said.
“Two minutes,” he said, and disappeared through the door.
I ran a finger around the edge of the photograph, trying to slip inside the memory of that day at the museum. It was hard to look back on it with joy, but maybe if I pretended to be the person in the photograph again, things would be different. I closed my eyes and thought I caught a spark.
When Alex returned, he had one of the framed photos of Zac Efron Nina had left at his place.
“I thought I was supposed to be getting rid of stuff,” I said.
Alex undid the frame and took out the Zac Efron photo. “For your picture,” he said, holding the frame out to me. “For whenever you’re ready to put it back up.”
I reached out, and my fingers brushed against Alex’s as I took the frame and set it in my lap. “Is there a word for feeling joy and sorrow at the same time?”
