The corner of his mouth pulls down. “Protect me from what?”
From a layoff.
“From Dougie. From failure.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I was just wondering if you thought there was a fatherly instinct to it.”
Alex rubs at his jaw. “It’s hard to know,” he says. “There have been moments throughout my life when Robert showed his fatherly instincts. When I was eight, living in Seoul, attending the international school, I was bullied by this kid who loved to say that I didn’t have a father. A few days after I told my mom about it was the first time I consciously remember meeting Robert. He appeared in our apartment, knelt down in front of me, and said, ‘Your last name is Harrison, because you’re my son. You have a father, and that man is me.’ Then I asked him why he didn’t live with us, and he said it was because his wife wouldn’t let him. I’m sure you can imagine how confusing that was for me.”
I nod. “I bet you had so many questions.”
“Did, and do. There’s a lot about my parents’ relationship that I’ll never know. That nobody knows, except for them. Aunt Jane has pieces, but even she never got the full picture. She seemed surprised when I told her that sometimes Robert appeared in Seoul, at our apartment or at the park, sometimes at a restaurant. I don’t know if my parents loved each other, but I think they might have.”
“Did you ever ask your dad? When you got older?”
Alex nods. “Once. I was told that it wasn’t my business,” he growls. “So, to answer your question, yes, Robert does have fatherly instincts. He just doesn’t have enough of them.”
“Tell me something happy,” I say. “About your mom.”
His lips kick up, and he reaches his arm toward me. My gaze tracks to his forearms, and his tattoo—the one I’ve only ever glimpsed peeks of—is displayed proudly now on his skin.
“What is that?”
“Roses of Sharon. The national flower of Korea.”
The femininity of the design, and his frank explanation, is a startling turn-on. The tattoo is delicate with dark branches thatspan Alex’s upper wrist and an inch or so of his forearm, covered in soft white and pink flowers.
The wine is warming the tips of my ears, and Alex’s hot eyes watching me across the candlelit table are making me squirm.
“My mom loved them. We’d go on adventures all the time to find as many trees as we could with the flowers in bloom.”
“That sounds adorably aesthetic. And happy.”
“It was,” he murmurs. “Also…” Alex drifts off, peering at me through thick eyelashes. “It meanseternal blossom that never fades.Which is supposed to be a reminder for me when I look at it. I’ve always thought of myself as rootless and untethered. I don’t have much in my life that’s permanent, let alone eternal. But this tattoo is, which means other things can be, too. Plus, it always reminds me of Mom.”
His words are gentle, almost a confession, but they make a pit open up in my gut.
I have a crush on someone who thinks of himself as a rootless, untethered person.
It’s like Alex is giving me awarning.
My body starts to lock up, and I realize how close I came to falling for someone who might be incapable of falling back.
“I… bathroom,” I mutter, jerking up from my chair.
“Wait, are you—” But I’m already too far gone to hear the rest.
I barge into the single-person bathroom, clicking the lock closed on the door behind me. My reflection stares back through the mirror above the sink. I’m flushed, my cheeks rosy. My eyes look as wild as the hair spilling over my shoulders.
“You’re going to London,” I tell myself. “In seven months.”
What was Ithinking? Alex doesn’t want a relationship, and neither should I.
I press my eyes closed and breathe deeply. I can get this under control. It’s just a crush. He doesn’t know. I can make it go away. Because if I fall for him, I’ll really getstuckthis time, almost like Idid before, but worse, because it’sAlex,and he’s just so… and if he leaves, I’ll be too heartbroken to go anywhere, and then I’ll never figure out what I’m supposed to—
Someone knocks loudly,rudelyon the door.
Giving myself a stern look in the mirror, I say, “Don’t tether yourself to him.” Then I open the door and step back into the dim hallway.
“Casey, are you okay?” Alex grabs me by my shoulders.
