Alex nods, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “The day of your party, which—yep, makes sense now that it was a week early.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You asked if I knew something you didn’t. Remember?”
I nod.
“Well, I did. On my birthday, I got this email from my father. He told me I inspired him to come out of retirement and explore digital media.”
“Oh.” My hands come to rest against my lips.
He winces, dropping my eyes. “You were right about everything,” he whispers. “The day you left New York… that’s the day I finally worked up the courage to go to his town house. I saw the same piece of paper from Strauss you saw, right there on the entryway table. Guess what it was? A proposed outline of his future share. He got home later that night, and I confronted him about it. He didn’t want to fess up at first, but when he could tell I was onto him, he just sort of… broke open. Started talking about how Dougie deserved it, how it was a matter of honor.” Alex laughs darkly. “He manipulated not one, but two whole businesses so he could get a leg up on a man who is, objectively, his own mirror image.”
“Alex—”
“Andthen,” Alex says, hand on his neck, “he started promising me things. He said he always planned to bring me into a position of power in the new company. Money, a better job title. He even dangled his own mentorship in my face like a carrot. Said now that I was grown, we could be partners. But it was all just too little, too late.”
I didn’t want to be right about this. I can tell just looking at Alex that he’s exhausted, defeated. He hasn’t had it as bad as me over the last few weeks. He’s had it worse.
Alex scratches at his jaw, still not meeting my eyes. “I stood there in that town house, inwardly fuming, staring at the spot where I made love to you on the floor, with his wife in the next room hating me loudly, and realized. I could put up with that type of behavior when it was only me Robert was undoing. Not whenit was everyone else.” He shakes his head, eyes on the floor. “I told him I wanted no part in any of it.”
My thoughts are stumbling over themselves, rapid-fire, begging for attention at the front of my brain, but I am present enough to recognize that Robert wouldn’t have liked that response. “How did he take it?” I ask.
Alex frowns. “He was frustrated. But funny enough, I think part of him understood. Maybe he even respected me for it.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Robert’s never lied to me about who he is, or what his priorities are. But I made it clear it him—and to myself, finally, after all this time—that mine aren’t the same.” His eyes flash to me. “He knows I’m going to come clean. He’s preparing for it.”
“No.” I shake my head, spiraling at the prospect of Alex in trouble. “That’s not…No.”
“I can handle the legal consequences,” he rasps. “I did what I did.”
For a few long seconds he says nothing, and I know in my bones we could stay like this for hours. Remembering each other. He doesn’t make any move to touch me. But his gaze lingers. “You really are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Whip-smart. Funny. Inspiring. And the way you quietly care about people is just… completely unbound.” His eyes dip down to the papers in my hand, his mother’s name in bold under the titles at the top. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re holding.”
“I—I just found them—”
“You don’t have to explain right now,” he says. “I think I already know.” Alex slips a hand into his coat pocket and withdraws two pieces of paper. They’re folded up tight, wrinkled at the corners, creased with fraying edges. “I’ll trade you.” He presses them into my hands, taking the articles in his. “Read the letter first. I wrote it on the plane. And then this. Gus wrote it with my help, and with Tracy Garcia’s help, too. I told him he couldn’t publish it anywhere until you read it first.”
Alex steps back. His caramel eyes are warm. They devour me like he is starving for the sight. “I know it doesn’t make up for missing seeing you off. But maybe it’ll help you understand why I needed time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Casey,
I’m on my way to you right now. I’m locked out of iCloud because memorizing passwords is impossible, and for the same reason I haven’t memorized your number, so I decided to write you this letter instead. Even though you might not read it, which would be within your right since I let you board a plane without saying goodbye.
The first time I ever saw you in that elevator, I knew something was wrong. Your face was split up with nerves and I could tell your heart was in knots. I cracked a joke because I wanted to make you laugh, but I didn’t manage that until that late September day on the balcony. That was the first laugh you let me keep.
Here’s the thing. When you told me you loved me too, I wasn’t sure I deserved it. I couldn’t escape the feeling that I had no right to even be with you until I could somehow win him over too. Because why would someone as perfect as you love mewhen I couldn’t get my own father to? There’s a lot I’m only starting to understand about it, but I made a myth of him, and the myth wasn’t real. I know that now because you are the realest thing I’ve ever felt, touched, known, and I’m not settling for less anymore.
Maybe I’m too late, and maybe that’s what I deserve, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t come straight to you (seriously, thank fuck for GroupMe and fancy friends) so I could tell you this. You aremydream girl. The subscribers can find another one.
I love you beyond belief,
Alex.
BITE THE HANDGOES META
(And This Time We Really Mean It)
A Satirical Short Story by Gus Moskowitz, Deputy Director
Here atBite the Hand,I trust my in-house staff, contributors, photographers, and social media team to represent this brand the same way I trust my barista to know the ratios of a good cortado: intrinsically. I trust the people who built this platform to live out its mission every day. Even when it’s uncomfortable. Even when it’s awkward. And especially, especially when it’s the right thing to do.
So, in the spirit of that trust, I’d like to tell you a story about a king who passed along his crown in exchange for the bigger, shinier kingdom next door. It’s going to be uncomfortable, maybe a little awkward. You might make inferences.
