Page 80
Story: Need You to Choose Me
When she seems appeased, she closes the door behind her. “Pam, I can’t keep her here. She seems okay now, but I know there’s a chance that can turn quickly.”
“Look, call me when you’re on your way and I’ll make sure I’m at Logan’s. I’m sorry, Alex. I know this is the last thing you need.”
She’s damn straight. “I will.”
Hanging up, I make my way to the living room again when the doorbell goes off for a second time.
I glare at Mom. “Did you invite the old man and his granddaughter up too?”
She laughs like I’m ridiculous. “Of course not. Gianna had to get to ballet. She has a recital coming up. They invited me.”
I don’t bother squashing her dreams of going just yet. I walk to the door and open it without looking at the peep hole and gape at the person standing there.
“Surprise,” Olive says, wiggling her fingers.
There’s an overnight bag on the floor beside her.
I blink.
Blink again.
And say, “Fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Olive
Considering this visitwas his idea, the last word I expect to come out of Alex’s mouth is fuck. Fuck what? Fuck him? Holy fuck? Fuck I can’t believe you’re here? I know which one I’d like him to choose, but the shear panic on his face is telling me I’m going to be sorely disappointed.
Maybe this is on me. Alex never liked surprises. I’ve always known that about him. “I thought you’d be happier to see me. But you look constipated. Or like someone kicked your grandma.”
Potty talk isn’t attractive, but is that what I’m here for? To be attractive? I’m not sure. Ididpack my cute panties. The ones with a bow on the front and lace lining the sides. But it was a last-minute decision as I walked out the door.Just in case.
Because I drove all this way—all four and a half measly hours to see him. The traffic wasn’t bad, the scenery left more to be desired, but I still did it while jamming to John Mayer the whole way. And he looks…not happy.
“Alex?” Now I’m frowning, and the choice I made that led me to this very spot weighs on me. Did I make a mistake? Did I somehow misunderstand what he wanted? It seemed pretty clear when he said he wanted me, but now I’m second guessing myself.
He quickly looks inside before stepping out into hall, leaving his door cracked behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you. I figured a weekend would be easier for you.”
I stare between him and the door and ask the question I don’t want to. “Is there someone inside with you right now?”
He wets his lips, hesitating. “Yes. She was an unexpected guest. But it’s not what it sounds like. I—”
“Alex?” a woman calls out, opening the door and looking at me. “Oh. Who is this?”
Maybe if I were any other woman, I’d start questioning what’s going on. But there’s two reasons why I don’t. One of them is that I have no claim over the man in front of me. He can do whatever he wants, whether he tells me pretty words or not. Which means he can do whoever he wants too. I mean, I’m no saint. I’d like to think I’m reasonable enough to acknowledge that we’ve never agreed to be exclusive since knowing each other, no matter how sour it tastes in my mouth.
But the other reason, and arguably the biggest, is that this woman is undoubtedly related to Alex. Her eyes are the same unique shade as his. They’re both a beautiful vibrant shade of blue that can only be described as out of a romance. They have the same brown hair, not quite dark but also not light; except hers is highlighted with gray streaks brought on by time. There’s a softness to her features that aren’t on his—an easygoingness that he somehow didn’t inherit.
This is Alex’s mother.
“Ma, I told you to stay inside,” Alex says, confirming what I already know.
Ma.Ma. He’s talked about her briefly before but never showed me photos. The only picture I’ve seen of his childhood is of him and his father at a Bruin’s game when he was little. The jersey he’d been wearing was so big he drowned in it, but he had the biggest smile plastered on his face. I always thought he looked just like his dad from that one picture, but I can see his mother’s features in him clear as day now.
“Hi,” I say, sticking my hand out past Alex’s rigid body. “I’m Olive. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was surprising your son.”
The woman beams as she takes my hand. “I love that! Alex, you never told me you have a girlfriend. She’s a cutie. You don’t hear names like that either. It makes you stand out.”
“Look, call me when you’re on your way and I’ll make sure I’m at Logan’s. I’m sorry, Alex. I know this is the last thing you need.”
She’s damn straight. “I will.”
Hanging up, I make my way to the living room again when the doorbell goes off for a second time.
I glare at Mom. “Did you invite the old man and his granddaughter up too?”
She laughs like I’m ridiculous. “Of course not. Gianna had to get to ballet. She has a recital coming up. They invited me.”
I don’t bother squashing her dreams of going just yet. I walk to the door and open it without looking at the peep hole and gape at the person standing there.
“Surprise,” Olive says, wiggling her fingers.
There’s an overnight bag on the floor beside her.
I blink.
Blink again.
And say, “Fuck.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Olive
Considering this visitwas his idea, the last word I expect to come out of Alex’s mouth is fuck. Fuck what? Fuck him? Holy fuck? Fuck I can’t believe you’re here? I know which one I’d like him to choose, but the shear panic on his face is telling me I’m going to be sorely disappointed.
Maybe this is on me. Alex never liked surprises. I’ve always known that about him. “I thought you’d be happier to see me. But you look constipated. Or like someone kicked your grandma.”
Potty talk isn’t attractive, but is that what I’m here for? To be attractive? I’m not sure. Ididpack my cute panties. The ones with a bow on the front and lace lining the sides. But it was a last-minute decision as I walked out the door.Just in case.
Because I drove all this way—all four and a half measly hours to see him. The traffic wasn’t bad, the scenery left more to be desired, but I still did it while jamming to John Mayer the whole way. And he looks…not happy.
“Alex?” Now I’m frowning, and the choice I made that led me to this very spot weighs on me. Did I make a mistake? Did I somehow misunderstand what he wanted? It seemed pretty clear when he said he wanted me, but now I’m second guessing myself.
He quickly looks inside before stepping out into hall, leaving his door cracked behind him. “I wasn’t expecting you. I figured a weekend would be easier for you.”
I stare between him and the door and ask the question I don’t want to. “Is there someone inside with you right now?”
He wets his lips, hesitating. “Yes. She was an unexpected guest. But it’s not what it sounds like. I—”
“Alex?” a woman calls out, opening the door and looking at me. “Oh. Who is this?”
Maybe if I were any other woman, I’d start questioning what’s going on. But there’s two reasons why I don’t. One of them is that I have no claim over the man in front of me. He can do whatever he wants, whether he tells me pretty words or not. Which means he can do whoever he wants too. I mean, I’m no saint. I’d like to think I’m reasonable enough to acknowledge that we’ve never agreed to be exclusive since knowing each other, no matter how sour it tastes in my mouth.
But the other reason, and arguably the biggest, is that this woman is undoubtedly related to Alex. Her eyes are the same unique shade as his. They’re both a beautiful vibrant shade of blue that can only be described as out of a romance. They have the same brown hair, not quite dark but also not light; except hers is highlighted with gray streaks brought on by time. There’s a softness to her features that aren’t on his—an easygoingness that he somehow didn’t inherit.
This is Alex’s mother.
“Ma, I told you to stay inside,” Alex says, confirming what I already know.
Ma.Ma. He’s talked about her briefly before but never showed me photos. The only picture I’ve seen of his childhood is of him and his father at a Bruin’s game when he was little. The jersey he’d been wearing was so big he drowned in it, but he had the biggest smile plastered on his face. I always thought he looked just like his dad from that one picture, but I can see his mother’s features in him clear as day now.
“Hi,” I say, sticking my hand out past Alex’s rigid body. “I’m Olive. Sorry to drop by unannounced. I was surprising your son.”
The woman beams as she takes my hand. “I love that! Alex, you never told me you have a girlfriend. She’s a cutie. You don’t hear names like that either. It makes you stand out.”
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