Page 86 of Center of Gravity
“No. Thank you. I think I just wanted to tell you.”
“I’m glad. Not glad, but you know. Your dad is a very kind man.” I closed my eyes, blocking out the sight of the deep red wall in front of me and the waitress who skirted by me, and saw Alex’s face. I wished I could touch him, comfort him somehow. Thinking of the night we’d lain together on the sand, his fingers threaded through mine as I’d told him about Sean and he’d told me about his dad made me regret the times I could have been more affectionate with him and hadn’t because I’d not wanted to encourage the idea that we were anything more than sex. God, I was a fucking idiot.
“He told me about you. That you helped. So I thought you should know.”
I couldn’t detect any anger in his tone, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, overshadowed by his sadness. I’d made so much of keeping our lives separate and then gone and involved myself in his without asking, and though my intentions had been good, it was yet more proof of what Alex had already accused me of: thinking I knew what was best.
“I did. I’m sorry. You probably think I overstepped my bounds, and I did.”
“I don’t,” he said quickly, then fell silent again for a few beats before continuing. “Think that, I mean. It doesn’t matter now, but thank you for that. It had a huge impact on him. It…gave him peace of mind.” His voice cracked and he stopped speaking.
The scent of food permeating the hallway was making me nauseated. The chatter of voices in the background seemed jarring and loud, and I wanted nothing more than to be back in the quiet of my apartment, talking to him. I pressed the pad of my thumb to my temple, where the beginnings of a headache formed.
“I’m glad for that, then. And if there’s anything I can do, I’ll try to help however I can. Within whatever parameters you want me to, Alex. I hope you know that.”
“I know.” He paused. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m at dinner. Out. But I can call you later if you want me to—needme to—like before.” I peered around the corner of the wall. The waitress stood in front of our table, leaning over Scott’s shoulder as they conferred over the menu. “Actually, I can probably leave now if you need me to.”
I thought he might be angling for another stress release session and I started scrabbling to figure out how the hell I’d accommodate that—if I even could and, further, why I even would. But I knew why I would. I’d known for months. And right then? I would’ve done anything for Alex.
He must have guessed at what I was very ineffectively trying to communicate to him because he laughed a little, the sound thrumming through me. “No, it’s not like that. I wasn’t calling to get you to distract me again. But thank you for that time, too.”
“Of course.” I hesitated. I wanted to tell him I missed him, that I thought of him daily, hourly sometimes, but there wasn’t a worse time in the world to lay another potential burden on the guy, so I kept silent.
“I’ll let you get back to your dinner, now. Like I said, I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you.” I’d said it twice already, but I said it again. “Just let me know if I can do anything.”
“I will. Thank you.”
“And for fuck’s sake, stop thanking me.” The amount ofthank youswe’d crammed into our conversation would have been comical if the reasons behind it weren’t so sad.
“I will if you’ll stop offering to do something for me, but fine. I’m hanging up now.”
I peeked around the wall again. Scott sat with his fingers resting on the stem of his wineglass, other arm casually thrown across the back of the booth as he looked around. He caught my eye and smiled. I smiled back, lifting one finger.Be there in a minute.“Take care, Alex. I’ll be thinking of you and your mom and Lainey. And your dad, of course.” I hung up and stood there, brushing my clammy palms across the thighs of my pants and wondering how I’d get through the rest of dinner. I was worried about Alex and imagined I’d be up all night worrying. I’d had Summer and my dad when Mom had passed, but when Dad had gone, I’d had no one there with me the first day and night after. I was glad Alex wasn’t alone.
I stopped in the restroom to wash my hands and splash my face with water. I wasn’t very hungry anymore, but tried to muster up a smile and enough enthusiasm to carry me through the rest of the night. I had a feeling this would be our last date.
I hadn’t even made it to the end of the hallway when my phone rang again. Alex.
“Could you just come here?” He spoke in a rush, the words running together as soon as I answered. “I know you’re out to dinner and you have your own life and things to do, and it’s unfair for me to interrupt, especially after we…well, whatever we were or weren’t, and after I basically told you to get me off then fuck off. There’s a lot that—fuck. It doesn’t matter. I just want you here. Badly. I think I need you here, Rob.”
His words swam around in my head, nonsensical and panicked, and the only thing I really heard wasneed you.My answer came without hesitation.
“I’ll be there in an hour and a half.”
* * *
Scott was understandingwhen I sent him home with both our meals, and fortunately the house on Nook Island wasn’t scheduled for a rental until the weekend, three days away. I dropped Winslow off there and got him settled in before racing over to Alex’s.
The house was dark when I arrived, just the flickering blue-white cast of the TV spilling across the threshold as Linda opened the door.
“He’s in the room with his father. Feels like he’s been at his side for weeks. He’s afraid to leave,” she said as I stepped inside. She melted into the hug I offered and whispered, “Thank you so much for coming,” before dissolving into tears. It was strange how being wrapped in her grief made the memory of my mother’s death reverberate like a distant echo inside of me, awakening a deep empathy that almost stole my breath.
I held her until she gave me a gentle pat and released me, stirring herself into action the same way my own mother would have, offering me a hundred and one things until I told her I’d take a cup of coffee. I suspected she just wanted the comfort of a task.
While she went to brew it, I walked down the hallway to John’s room, my chest riddled with those echoes of sadness and the aching awareness of what Alex was likely feeling, too. The air was somber and quiet, medicinal in scent—a smell all too familiar and unwelcome.