I’ll figure out how to redirect the cuddle session eventually. Right now, I have to focus on us making a quick exit. Because Alex needs me to have my shit together, and if I stay and listen to this song, I absolutely will not be able to.
“Let’s get out of here.” I slap down a twenty on the bar, then slide off my stool.
Alex glances from me to the money, then back to me. “That was fast. You really want to cuddle, huh?”
I throw a thumb over my shoulder. “?‘River,’?” I tell him, then add, to emphasize the point, “Joni Mitchell.”
Alex jolts on his stool like he’s been electrically shocked. He suddenly seems halfway to sober. “Oh,fuckno.”
As he slides off his stool, we find each other’s hand, fingers locked tight, and shove our way through the crowd, straight toward the door.
Even though I’m the one who’s felt sick to her stomach since that text from Lauren, Alex is the one who pukes, thankfullyafterour driver drops us off in front of his house.
“I never liked that rhododendron anyway,” Alex mutters as I unlock his door.
He makes it to the powder room toilet just in time for round two, and I follow him, rubbing his back, pausing while he retches again. I hesitate at first, but then I figure maybe it’ll put him at ease if I just keep talking, if I don’t make it some big deal. Once he’s done, the toilet flush’s echo faded from the bathroom, I ask, “Why didn’t you like the rhododendron?”
“It didn’t bloom,” he says, sitting slowly back on his heels. “I did everything I was supposed to, and it still didn’t bloom. Mia was so disappointed.”
My heart twists. I glance out the window at the rhododendron peeking above it, rubbing his back again. “Maybe it needs a partner plant.”
Alex stands, then ambles over to the medicine cabinet. He pulls out a toothbrush, lines it with toothpaste, and starts to scrub. “A partner plant?” he asks.
I shrug. “Rhododendrons don’t technicallyneeda mate plant, but… it can help to have another plant nearby. Cross-pollination,” I add, at his blank look. “It increases the chances of a flower.”
Alex peers at me as he scrubs his teeth, toothpaste foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. “A partner plant,” he says again. He smiles.
And I can’t help but smile back.
I step aside as he bends over the sink, spits, then rinses, taking time to make sure his scruffy beard is clean, too, then turns toward me. His eyes are clearer, back to their deep-blue brightness. I think he’s pretty much sober now.
“Sorry about that,” he says quietly.
I shake my head, threading my fingers through his. “Don’t be. Happens to the best of us.”
“Didn’t happen toyou,” he says, slipping past me, taking me by the hand out of the bathroom and toward the couch.
“That’s because,” I explain as I drop on the couch with a plop, “I’ve been drinking more than you. My tolerance is higher. That isn’t a good thing.”
He’s still standing, looking unsettled as he scrapes a hand through his hair. His gaze darts away then back to me. “Would you say you’re sober, then?”
I squint. “Ninety-five percent. You?”
“About the same. That puke did me good.”
After a beat, I say to him, “Why do you ask?”
Alex clears his throat, hands on his hips. He’s staring down at the ground. “Because back at the bar is a little fuzzy, but… I think I remember asking you to cuddle and you being up for that, and I, uh… I wouldn’t want us to do that if we weren’t both clearheaded. That is,ifyou were still up for cuddling.”
I told myself I wouldn’t let us cuddle not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t think we should. But after this past miserable month, and before that, a fall spent barely seeing Alex, I simply can’t make myself care right now about doing what I think we should. I want to do what I want. What he wants.
Standing from the couch, I wrap my arms around his waist and set my head on his shoulder. “I’m up for cuddling. Very much, yes.”
He laughs. “I do remember saying that.”
My heart rate doubles. “Do you remember after that?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then rests his head against mine. “Not much, beyond that I was glad I was with you. I’m still glad about that.”
