“Do you have any of her paintings?” Emma asked eventually. “I would love to see them.”
“Grandma gave me a box of her stuff. I haven’t looked inside. I just kind of buried it, like I do with everything else. But I think I am at a point in my life where I need to open it up.” The idea wasn’t mine—it was Dylan’s. But I was getting used to it.
“Well, if there is anything you would like to share, please know that I’m here for you,” Emma gently answered. “Or if it is something you need to do on your own, I understand that too. I just want you to know you are not alone.”
I looked deeply into her green eyes, and though sadness was still in my heart from things of the past, I felt hope spring up for the future. “I know, Emma. Being with you is the first time in my life I haven’t felt alone.”
Emma brought her face to mine, and I closed the distance to kiss her. I inhaled her scent, and let the peace continue to wash over me. Her lips were kind and inviting, everything I needed in that moment.
I reached my hand up and cupped the back of her head, weaving my fingers into her curly hair. I never wanted to let her go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emma
My phone buzzed in my purse as I walked into my apartment after church on Sunday morning. I smiled as I read the name on the screen.Alex. My brain suddenly remembered the scent of freshly baked bread and the feel of his cheek against mine, and I hoped he wanted to get together again today.
“Hey, babe,” I answered. The endearment popped out of my mouth without any prompting from my brain. Falling for Alex was easy. He accepted every bit of our connection without question and without balking. I didn’t mean to fall into him andusso quickly, but here we were.
“Hello to you too,” Alex said. His voice was strained.
I paused in the act of setting my keys on the table by the door. I had this feeling I was going to need them.
“Are you busy today?” he asked.
“Nope.” I hoped he could hear how much I longed for him. “I was hoping you would ask that.”
“Good.” He chuckled, before shifting back to his serious tone. “Do you want to come over and help me go through this box?”
He didn’t have to tell me which box. I knew from the tightness of his voice that it was the box full of his mother’s things. We hadn’t talked about it again after our last conversation, but finding out more about his mother hung there, waiting to be addressed. I was constantly looking for a change in Alex’s behavior, something that would tell me he’d gone ahead without me. He’d been steady at work and after, the same wonderful man with a shadow. I’d compared him to Peter Pan in my mind. Peter was free and easygoing and lost his shadow. Alex was bottled up and had more cares than a man should carry through the world—and his shadow was deep and long.
“I put it on the coffee table, and it just keeps staring at me. I can’t bring myself to so much as cut the tape.”
I imagined a picture of an old packing box, the tape having long since lost its stickiness, holding him hostage. “I’ll be right over.”
He gave me his address. I had to pause, because I couldn’t believe that I had such strong feelings for someone when I didn’t know where he lived. It was strange, wasn’t it? That I could allow that to happen. On the one hand, it bothered me a lot; I’d thought I’d smartened up because of my terrible marriage and divorce. But here I was, trusting Alex like I’d never been hurt.
“He’s not the one who hurt me,” I muttered as I wrote a quick note to Becca to let her know where I went. My warning voices retreated to the back of my head. They couldn’t argue with facts. And the fact was, Alex hadn’t done anything to break my trust. He didn’t even seem to mind that I came with emotional baggage.
Not that he didn’t have his own case of trauma to cart around … I guessed that was one reason it was easy to be with him: he didn’t expect me to be perfect.
I headed to the east side of town. Alex lived in a posh area where the buildings rose high and the parks were small. No wonder he’d liked the Riverwalk so much. If I was surrounded by steel, concrete, and glass all day every day, I’d go into a depression.
I stopped to grab breakfast at a fast-food joint. I’d woken up late and run out the door to make it in time for services, and my stomach begged for attention. I’d bet a hundred bucks that Alex hadn’t eaten anything either. By the time I pulled into a parking spot just down the street from his building, the smell of fried egg sandwiches had me drooling.
The glass doors to his building were nine feet tall and rimmed in metal. The door opened for me, and I was greeted by a doorman in a red vest and white shirt. He tipped his hat my way. “Miss Sawyer?”
I nodded quickly. Alex must have told him I was coming. Sometimes I forgot that doctors made a lot of money. I figured it was because they seemed so human to me and people who had doormen lived in a different sphere.
“Welcome. The elevators are off to the right.” He motioned with his gloved right hand.
“Thank you.”
He smiled kindly and I stepped lightly, the to-go bag swinging in my fingers. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see where Alex lived. A person’s space said a lot about them. For example, the fact that Alex rented an apartment when he could have easily bought a home made me wonder if he planned to stay in town long. He’d moved around a bit before getting here, and he could still be climbing a ladder. I’d ask him about his plans when the time was right.
The elevator ride went fast, and I scanned the numbers on the doors as I walked down the hall. The walls were painted a light gray, and the flooring was a dark tile of some kind. I found his apartment and took a deep breath. Whatever was in that box could make or break Alex. Not just for today either. I had the feeling that the rest of his life would be shaded or illuminated by what transpired in the next 20 minutes.
I gently knocked just below the number 305.
