Page 95 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“What’s next weekend?” I step forward, lifting a box flap, catching sight of garment bags.With designer labels?That’s not really Emma’s speed.

She clears her throat, and Becks steps out of the room.

“You might have noticed that I’ve been working really hard lately…” I nod because I’m not fucking blind. “I set a goal for myself.” She steels her spine, putting her shoulders back. “I’d like to go to the wedding next weekend.”

Whatever I was expecting, hoping for, maybe even justthought, whatever it was, it wasn’t that.

Her face falls with mine. I shake my head. “I told you I don’t want to go.” Her brows draw together.

“Then why did you keep the invitation hanging up for so long?” There’s that edge. That strength. Her brow furrows more, and she doesn’t wait for a response. “No, you said youprobably wouldn’t go, not that you didn’t want to.”Thatshe remembers?

I don’t have a good answer. Not one to tell her.

I kept it hanging because it was the last thing I had ofher.

I kept it hanging as a reminder that she made her choice, and I made mine.

I kept it hanging because I’ve been preoccupied with my wife’s traumatic-fucking-brain-injury and hadn’t thought to take it down.

I’ve never really been mad at Emma. Until now.

I drop the box on the floor, and it falls with a loud crash, sending Blanks into the dining room to come to Emma’s rescue.

Emma gasps at my outburst.

“We’re not fucking going.” My words cut her. I can see it. Blanks sees it, and I immediately regret the harshness because I’m not madat her. I’m mad at me.

“Don’t speak to her in that tone,” Blanks puts out a hand like I need restraining.

“Caleb, I’m fine,” Emma barks back at him. “I don’t need you to fight all my battles for me.” He looks at her, and she looks at him. I watch her eyes drop, confusion taking over. That still happens occasionally. When she gets worked up. It’s been far and few between lately, but I’ve pushed her.

I don’t care. My word is final on this.

“Caleb, please leave,” she commands him firmly. She’s become a worthy opponent. She isn’t going to cave easily.

When Blanks finally leaves, she starts in. “Tell me why you don’t want to go. Tell me, Alex.” It’s like sheknows, even though she doesn’t. I could be convinced a hundred times a day she’s gotten her memory back and has just been fucking with me all along.

“I don’t need to defend my position. It’s inappropriate for us to go.”

“Why?” She’s pushing because she’s fuming, too. She crosses her arms, breathing hard until she suddenly turns contemplative.

“Oh…” she says, sounding crestfallen, “I thought you’d moved on. Sorry.” She pushes a stack of boxes out of the way and heads for the mudroom.

Fuck.

Jess isn’t something I think I’ll ever reallymove onfrom. There are days when I think about her less. Maybe even days when I don’t think about her at all. But still, it’ll always be there.

Or, more accurately, there would always be a part of me missing, like she took one of my appendages with her. Sure, life goes on, and I can still function without the appendage, but I wasn’t exactly whole either.

I would have to find Emma and talk to her eventually, but it wouldn’t be right now. I need to cool down, and I need to stop wanting to throw my fist into a fucking wall first.

I walk out the front door, avoiding wherever the hell she went on the opposite side of the house, and open the garage to my bike. A couple of hours on the road to clear my head is just what I need. Hopefully.

Emma

My hands tremble as I struggle to put on the sweatshirt I found in the mudroom. I don’t know whose it is, and I don’t care. When my hand gets stuck in the armhole, I curse, “Damnit.”

Telling Alex hadn’t gone exactly as I thought it might.