Tears well as I clench my fists together and take a deep breath.Calm down, Lexi. There is no way I’m going to let myself fall apart in front of some guy I barely know.
“My mom died when I was sixteen,” I explain. “Uterine cancer. She and my dad had been together since their first semester of law school. So, you can imagine my surprise when my dad got a new girlfriend four months after my mom passed, married her five months after that, and proceeded to move to Florida the minute I left for college.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them immediately. Throughout the years, I’ve learned this is a story others prefer not to hear. They never know quite what to say or how to respond, so they inevitably stand there, looking uncomfortable as they waffle between asking polite follow-up questions or offering a segue to lighter topics of conversation.
To his credit, Jake does neither. He leans forward, placing his hand over mine. A flicker of electricity passes through his warm skin.
“That must have been really hard,” he says softly. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
My stomach knots with discomfort at my uncharacteristic oversharing.What is it about this guy that makes me spill my guts?“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. We barely know each other, and you didn’t order breakfast with a side of melodrama.”
Jake’s gaze is unflinching. “Don’t apologize. I want to get to know you.”
Shifting my body to avoid his eyes, I stand up and push in my stool.
“Anyway, it’s ancient history. And living here rent-free means I can afford to attend school full-time and get started on my career plans as quickly as possible.”
Before moving to Florida, Dad transferred the deed for the apartment to my name. He insisted it was for my financial protection, but I’ve always wondered how much of it was motivated by guilt. Like he knew he was abandoning me, so he saved my childhood home as a proxy for his presence. He covered my college tuition, but I insisted on taking out loans to pay for culinary school myself so that I’d be indebted to him as little as possible. He mails me a small check each month to help with groceries and utilities. I genuinely appreciate all his help. Monetarily, he’s given me so much, and I know how fortunate I am. But it’s impossible to ignore the fact that my circumstances have come at the expense of so much heartache. I’d trade it in a heartbeat to have my family back.
Jake nods solemnly. “Makes sense. Plus, you get to keep living with that sexy mallard.” He tilts his chin toward the green ceramic duck perched on the living room bookshelf, a gift my dad received from a client in the mid-1990s. Despite myself, I burst into laughter, the knot in my chest immediately dissolving.
“Yeah… I’ve never really gotten around to redecorating.”
Picking up our breakfast plates, I carry them over to the sink for a quick rinse. Then, I turn to face Jake expectantly. I imagine this is the point where we’ll say our goodbyes. To be honest, I’m a little surprised he’s stayed this long.
“So, what are you up to today?” he asks.
Oh. This is an unexpected turn.
“Big plans, actually. Hulu just started streamingGolden Girls.”
“Golden Girls? My mom loves that show!” Jake’s chest ripples with laughter. “We used to watch reruns together all the time.”
“My mom and I did too.” Watching old episodes while digging into cartons of Chinese takeout was a Friday-night ritual. Even now, the show makes me feel close to her. Judging by the wistful look in Jake’s eyes, I realize he feels the same way.
Jake shoots me a bashful look. “Man, I haven’t watched it in ages. Mind if I join you?”
“Um, sure.” I rearrange my face to hide my embarrassing level of excitement. “You don’t have anything else to do today?”
He shakes his head. “Not really.” He collapses onto the sofa and grabs the remote, then swivels his head to grin at me.
“Ready to travel down a road and back again?”
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, WE’REcurled up beneath the fluffy white blanket on my crinkled leather sofa. Jake’s arm is around me, my head resting on his shoulder. On screen, Blanche is criticizing Dorothy’s lack of grace. Dorothy shoots her a signature eye roll and quips that Blanche does her best work in back alleyways.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a total Dorothy?” Jake asks.
“You think I’m Dorothy? That’s so mean!” I gasp with feigned horror.
“Not at all! Dorothy is the best character. She’s smart, down-to-earth, and she calls people on their bullshit.”
“True.” I nod. “But you’re definitely a Blanche. A highly promiscuous southern belle if I’ve ever met one.”
“Oh, that’s it.” Jake’s long fingers slip beneath my armpits, tickling as he pins me to the sofa, and I shriek as I half-heartedly attempt to shove him off. He stops after a minute, his brown eyes locking intensely on mine.
“I have a confession,” he says softly. My chest is still rising and falling rapidly, and I suspect I won’t be catching my breath anytime soon.
“You have a side gig selling your hair to make wigs for aging debutantes?”
