Mia and Kitty giggled gleefully from across the living room. Greyson had her hands over her face and cried, “The rules, Dad! The rules!”
Alex leaned back into the couch. “I don’t see how helping a friend is equivalent to making out. And I don’t remember agreeing to these rules. I’m not sure I can abide by them.”
Greyson pretended to gag, and I flicked my gaze over to Alex.Friends. That was all we were. He’d said it himself.
Then why had I thought,Joy, the moment he’d touched me, as if his thumb on my mouth were something I could keep?
Eleven
One morning, a few days after Alex and I had decluttered my condo, I sank into a seat at the galley table and hung my head in my hands, fighting off a wave of nausea.
“Good morning again,” Alex, who stood before the open refrigerator, said.
When I didn’t respond, the refrigerator door snapped shut and Alex was suddenly beside me. “You okay?”
I let out a slow breath. “Forgot to eat breakfast. Probably too much coffee on an empty stomach.”
I’d been fine when Alex and I carpooled to work that morning. We’d arrived a few minutes early, so I’d disappeared into one of the bunks and called my sister.Okay, Beth had said when I asked how she and Mark were doing. She’d changed the subject quickly and asked about the girls. I’d told her they were great. I was keeping them distracted. And Beth had asked if they were talking about Samson. After their meltdowns the first week, I could count on one hand the times Samson’s name had come up. Whenever it had, I’d successfully steered the conversation tosomething lighter. The girls still had their moments, but they were quieter now, more private.
As much as I don’t want them to be sad all the time, it doesn’t seem right that they aren’t talking about it either, Beth had said. And then she’d started crying, talking about how our mother had screwed things up with us after Dad died and how she didn’t want to do that to Mia and Kitty. In the end, she’d made me promise to talk to Mia and Kitty and ask how they were feeling. The idea of a conversation like that (on top of not eating breakfast) had made me sick to my stomach.
Alex clapped his hands together. “Well, you’re in luck, because I just happen to be a very talented chef. Chocolate chip waffles are your favorite, right?”
I tried to protest, but the motion only made me feel worse, and besides, Alex had already crossed the galley and was plugging in the waffle maker.
Ten minutes later, he placed a stack of waffles in front of me. “Eat up. We’ve got work to do.”
“Thanks.” I took small bites until my stomach settled and tried not to think about Beth, or Mia and Kitty, or Samson.
As I ate, Alex zipped around the kitchen. He pulled out the cutting board, his knife, and every fruit imaginable: a watermelon, a pineapple, kiwis, blueberries, strawberries. “I meant to ask,” he said as he washed the blueberries and strawberries in the sink. “How’s your list going? The picture of you from the Zefron-a-thon post was great, if I do say so myself. You must have had an excellent photographer.”
I paused, a bite of waffle between my teeth. My blog. Alex had readXO, Jo. Of course he knew about it, in a casual sort of way. But the thought of him actually reading it had never crossed my mind. “You’ve read the blog,” I said.
“My favorite is the kiss a stranger post, of course,” Alex said. He carried the fruit over to the island and began nonchalantly slicing thepineapple. “It’s good to know you don’t really think I look like a tourist. The skinny-dipping post seemed to be missing crucial information, but I’ll let it slide.”
“I don’t really dream about you,” I said, my entire being burning in embarrassment.
“That surprises me,” Alex said. “Because I’m very dreamy.”
I stuffed another forkful of waffle into my mouth, because what else was there to do? The phrasepillowy lipspopped into my mind, and I considered throwing myself overboard. I’d written that when Alex was basically a stranger. How was I supposed to know he’d become my buddy?
“Really, Jo, I like it,” Alex said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I know they’re just blog posts and don’t mean anything.”
“Yeah, exactly,” I said. “I didn’t really mean any of that.”
Alex continued slicing the pineapple, eyes on his knife. “How are you planning to go to five countries and sleep in a castle by the end of the summer?”
I prodded the waffles with my fork, happy to move on to a new subject. “I hadn’t really thought about it. I keep telling the girls I don’t see how it’s possible, but anytime I bring it up, they insist we have to doallthe items together. I didn’t know they were coming for the summer. They sort of... surprised me. I had it all figured out before that.”
“What was the original plan?”
I leaned back in my seat. “You know how I have the next two weeks off?” Alex nodded. “I had this big trip to Europe planned to knock out the last five countries. I even booked a room in a Scottish castle. But I canceled all that the day after Mia and Kitty showed up. As much as I’d like to finish the list, I can’t imagine it happening.”
“I see.” Alex went quiet again. He’d finished the pineapple and moved on to the watermelon, staring down at it for so long I thought he’d forgotten I was there. Finally, he looked up at me and set down his knife. “Did you know there’s a castle in Miami?”
“No,” I said. I waited for him to explain himself, but he seemed lost in thought. “Care to explain, Chef Alex?”
He rapped the counter with his knuckles. “Coral Castle,” he said, and picked up his knife again.
