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“I already took care of it.”
“Oh, okay. Thank you.” I’d tell him he didn’t need to do that, but tonight…yeah, I kind of need the help.
Dex sits down next to me, too close. Our shoulders and thighs press into each other, and while I go rigid like a board, he seems entirely unfazed. I want to smack him when he acts like this. It’s frustrating when he doesn’t understand how reckless his touches are. This is why I’m accidentally mumbling the wrong man’s name when I’m using my vibrator.
“Are you cold?” Dex asks.
“No.”
“You’re shivering.” Maneuvering around my back, his hand finds the outside part of my arm, and he rubs rapidly.Goddammit.But I let it happen. “Sorry I dragged you out here. I couldn’t hear in there.”
“It’s fine. So, what did you want to talk about?”
“My grandma died.”
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. Stunned into silence is the only explanation I have. Of all the things I was expecting…not that.Oh, Dottie.I feel the tension in my chest, an instant ache of sadness. Dorothea Hessler is the kind of womanwho leaves an impression. If it hurts my heart that she’s gone, I imagine Dex is devastated right now.
Dex can be a chatterbox but usually only talks in circles about inconsequential things. At first, I used to think he was a little goofy. Or smoked pot. I always imagined Dex saw the world in kaleidoscope colors, with The Beatles greatest hits on repeat in his head. It took me a little while to realize that Dex is just strategic with conversations. He’s skilled at making you focus on what’s unimportant, not what he really wants to say. His way of keeping the world at arm’s length.
So why is he opening up now?Grief?
But I choose not to focus on why he didn’t tell me. More importantly, I want to know how he’s holding up. “Dex, I’m so sorry. How are you?”
He takes his arm back then leans forward, planting his elbows on his knees. Staring across the street, he’s looking into dark shadows of nothing. “I don’t know. There was the funeral, the will, and all the business affairs afterward.” He shakes his head. “I’m still wrapping my head around it. Everything’s felt transactional since she passed.”
I only met Dottie Hessler once. Over one dinner, I learned her favorite flowers are daisies. She and Jacob were dear friends. Like me, she had an irrational fear of the ocean, so she never learned to scuba dive despite the enthusiasts in her life. Her French perfume was by far the most glamorous scent I’d ever experienced. The only cocktail she enjoyed was a Long Island Iced Tea. Otherwise, she took her red wine French and her liquor neat. She always got her nails painted red. And most importantly, Dex was the light of her life.
That’s it.
The extent of my knowledge. The way Dex is staring off into the abyss has me wishing I knew more so I could say the rightthing. It’s clear he’s hurting more than he knows how to convey. “When?” Is all I can think to ask.
He glances at me briefly in his periphery, then goes back to staring at the street. “When I was in Socorro. I didn’t have service.” He buries his face in his hands. “The one week I didn’t have service…and then she died. I’m told she went peacefully in her sleep,” he mumbles through his fingers.
“Has anybody been helping you through all this? Any family?” I cringe, wondering if it’s an inconsiderate question. Dex doesn’t like to talk about his family or lack thereof.
“Like who?”
“Cousins? Family friends?”
“I don’t have cousins. My mom was an only child. You already know she died when I was little. Never knew my dad. My grandma and grandpa raised me until he passed away, too.”
“Dex,” I exhale out, now feeling breathless. “That’s everybody. How are you?—”
“It sounds dramatic when I say it like that, but I’m fine Len,” he rushes out, brushing off the intensity of the conversation. “Anyway, I was thinking about our current situations and?—”
He stops mid-sentence, and his gaze rises with me as I stand.
“What are you doing?” Dex asks.
He’s so handsome, it’s a distraction. I don’t usually pay attention to how strained his eyes look behind his thick, full lashes.It’s like tension.It’s as if he’s always holding his poker face, worried he might break at any minute under the tremendous pressure.
“Stand up,” I say.
Once he does, I wrap my arms around his stomach and turn my head so my cheek is pressed against the middle of his chest. It’s admittedly a little awkward because Dex is so much taller than me. This is the best I can do in the territory of friendly hugs. I even try not to breathe in the sexy smell of his leathery, spicycologne that makes my head foggy. It’s when he hugs back that I step away, realizing that I’m enjoying the warmth of his body too much. Not the best time to take advantage of my friend.
I even go as far as offering him an explanation he didn’t ask for. “I can’t afford to send beautiful flowers like your grandma deserves. And the kitchen is not where I shine, or I’d offer to make you a casserole. Bear hugs are all I have to offer. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says with an exhale. “That felt really nice. Can I have one more?” Dex holds his arms out as an invitation.