Page 19

The stars danced, pinpricks of light that peeped through the branches above as Alex and I returned to the bonfire. After helping the kiddos find their parents in the cabins, I certainly had not expected this. What had previously been a family-friendly gathering had evolved into chaos.

Now that I’d officially accepted Alex’s offer, I’d had it in my head that we’d spend an hour or more chatting peacefully by the fire, maybe sharing another s’more—before retiring to our tent.

I’d never had so much fun just talking to someone.

That, combined with Alex’s care and attention, had been what finally tipped me over the edge. Or maybe it had been the way he’d held Patrick, aware of his own strength, and yet…gentle, despite it.

Suffice to say, nowhere in my plans had I expected to spend my first night as Alex’s not-boyfriend at a full-blown frat party.

June and Roderick had set up two entire kegs, both on opposite ends of the fire pit. Red solo cups populated the fists of the cluster of adults gathered. Some were dancing, some were howling with laughter, and an ambitious few were deep into the s’more-making process with drunken determination.

That has to be a health hazard, I swear to god.

A giant bowl of mystery punch had been deposited at the end of a log bench. Made of glass, and clearly bought for the wedding reception, the thing was almost ridiculously fancy-looking. Currently, Joe bent over it, filling his cup liberally from the spout. His large body was pretzeled in a way that did not look natural so that he could reach. When he saw me, he raised his cup with a slosh.

I waved. Joe spilled, scowled, and stumbled toward where June and Roderick were elbow-deep in a pair of giant black and yellow bins full of miscellaneous party items. There was a jump rope, for some ungodly reason, as well as bondage rope. I really…did not want to know why they’d brought that here.

Shifting my attention back to Alex, I discovered that he was amused , and not at all disturbed by the depravity of his cousins grinding on each other while listening to country twang—or the skunky scent of weed in the air. He thrived in the chaos.

Like a demon.

I wasn’t sure who was smoking—I couldn’t see the source of the smell, even though I’d definitely looked—but it was safe to assume it was one of Roderick’s brothers.

I was wrong.

Apparently, eight years away from home had changed a lot about my parents. Because the closer we got to the group of sixty-plus-year-olds leaning against the back of the cabin, joints in hand, the more difficult it became to rationalize what I was seeing.

That’s right, the people currently getting high were my parents —and Roderick’s—puffing away like a gaggle of misbehaving teens.

Mom smiled at us. It would’ve been impossible not to approach, even if Alex hadn’t been dragging me. Like watching a train wreck—only that train wreck was my own mouth and what was going to happen if I couldn’t keep it shut.

Mom’s giant blonde hair practically glowed in the dark, like it was its own source of light, reflecting the moon and the stars.

“Are you having fun?” she asked when we halted, only a few feet away. She passed the joint she was holding to my dad. It was still lit, a plume of smoke escaping. “I told you to have fun,” Mom reminded me.

My dad . My no-nonsense, trucker dad. All long and skinny, wearing the flannel he’d dubbed “the good one” when I’d barely been old enough to remember, was holding a joint.

A joint.

“I’m having…uh—” I was distracted, and therefore did not know how to get my mouth to work to answer my mother’s question. At my parents feet was a frankly obscenely large pile of snacks, primarily cookies. All were in plastic packages, and only a few had been opened. I recognized the brand.

“George is having so much fun!” Alex replied, with what could only be described as sadistic glee. Again, the cartoon villain was back. He eyed the snacks. Little Debbie cakes. Brownies. A variety of different kinds of E.L. Fudge cookies. Mom bought those in bulk when they went on sale. She liked to save up coupons and fill the entire pantry. Now I knew why.

Because munchies.

“Mrs. M, are you by chance interested in charity work?” Alex batted his lashes in my mother’s direction. His gaze darted to the mint chocolate cookies that were sealed in their package at my parents’ feet.

“Charity work?” Mom echoed, amused.

“Feeding the youth,” Alex clarified.

“ The youth can take what they’d like.” Mom giggled. She jerked a shoulder toward her overflowing snack stash. Judging by the way her eyes sparkled, she found Alex’s flirty bullshit charming. “Lord knows we don’t need it all.”

“Speak for yourself.” Dad—tall, skinny, wheezing dad—narrowed his eyes at her like she’d just sold his puppy to the devil. It was always jarring hearing his voice. Sometimes I forgot he had one. Alex looked as surprised as I was that he’d spoken.

Mom did not respond to Dad’s declaration, she simply gestured toward the cookies magnanimously before flicking a returning glare his way. Roderick’s parents giggled amongst themselves, too absorbed in their own plume of smoke to care that Alex was about to rob them. Alex, with no remorse whatsoever, ducked down to grab a few packs of cookies.

“Thank you!” he said cheerfully. “Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated.”

“You boys enjoy yourselves,” Mom waggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, we will!” Alex sounded way too sure of himself—considering the fact that I was still as a statue beside him and certainly no longer having fun.

There was a knowing glint in my mother’s gaze that I didn’t want to think too much about. The wicked smirk she sported as Alex looped an arm around my shoulder and steered me away made me feel violated. Like I was naked out in the wild for all to see. It wasn’t nearly as bad as how I’d felt at the airport with Neil out in the open, but it was close enough.

My head was fuzzy.

Maybe it was shock?

Or maybe I was high now, too.

“You’re not high,” Alex chuckled, squeezing me even closer.

What the hell?

“Did you just read my mind?” I gaped. Alex was slightly damp, the summer air muggy enough to affect even someone as perfect as him. The way his body brushed mine with every step was riveting.

“Ha! I wish. No . But you’re pretty predictable once a guy knows what to look for. You barely breathed that entire time.” How the hell had he noticed that? He’d been flirting cookies out of my mom? Wow, that sounded weird. “At most, you’ll get a small contact high, but I doubt it.”

“You sure know a lot about drugs.” I wasn’t judging, except for the fact I was .

“Weed isn’t a drug.” Alex arched a brow. “It’s a plant.”

“Yes, well. I’ve never thought all that much about it, plant or not.” I didn’t pay attention to where Alex was leading us, too absorbed in my own thoughts. Had my parents always smoked? Had I simply never noticed? Or was this a recent development? Maybe it was…fun?

“It’s not that serious,” Alex rumbled softly against my ear. “Nothing to stress over, I promise you.” For a second, I’d zoned out enough I’d forgotten we’d been talking at all. Alex’s body heat was almost as comforting as his words, even if his close proximity also managed to light a fire low in my belly. “If it makes you feel better, my dad smokes. For medical purposes. It’s normal. Not anything to have an existential crisis about.”

“My parents were definitely not smoking for ‘medical purposes’,” I snorted, though I appreciated him trying to…I don’t know, comfort me?

Maybe I looked distressed.

“That’s true,” Alex shrugged. The motion rustled his cookies, and me, and it should’ve been annoying but I liked it. Liked the way he pressed into me solid and sure—possessive, almost. Liked how human he felt, especially when we touched.

I shivered.

“Cold?” Alex inquired, proving once again how very closely he paid attention to me. I wasn’t cold. But I nodded anyway, because it was easier than admitting how much he affected me, even when he wasn’t trying to.

“A bit,” I lied. A white lie. Nothing to offend his sensibilities.

“Mmm,” Alex’s hand was just the right amount of scratchy as he rubbed it over my shoulder and arm. Calluses on his palms. From what? I didn’t know. Weight-lifting maybe? Considering his physique. Or hockey. He’d said he liked hockey. I shivered again, and his pale eyes flickered with heat. Sinking into him, I let the atmosphere suck me in.

The crackle-pop of the fire a dozen yards away, the hoot-hoot of a lonely owl, and a cricket’s song, somehow loud enough it could be heard over the rowdy crowd gathered between the kegs.

It wasn’t that I was dissociating or anything.

I was…distracted—but only by the present. The scent of Alex’s sweat beneath his cologne sucked into my lungs with every breath. He was solid and sure against my body. Proving to be a surprisingly pleasant companion despite how much he chatted with the people we passed by, and how many items he acquired along the way.

I was simply happy to go along for the ride.

To be the pretty thing on Alex’s arm, silent and content.

Even if that wasn’t where I’d thought the night would go.

It was a testament to how much I’d grown to like him that I didn’t mind all the people-ing.

It wasn’t until Alex had run out of space for his loot that I realized just how deftly he’d managed to flirt, wheedle, and trick his way through the crowd. By the time we had abandoned the bonfire and headed into the dark alongside the main cabin, Alex had been forced to let me go because his arms were simply too full to cling close.

He’d stolen a blanket from June—after she’d tried to smooch him.

Stolen a new bottle of wine from Roderick—who had also tried to smooch him. They’d been setting up a picnic of sorts near the back of the fire, which definitely should’ve been a clue—in hindsight—but it hadn’t been.

My head had been far too fuzzy to pay attention to the details.

Just like now—fuzzy, out of it, dazed as I stared up at the sky and let Alex take the lead.

Alex weaved us through the cabins, and then up a hill at the north end of the camp site. I wheezed as we climbed, calves burning, mind a thousand miles away. Alex simply chuckled, finding joy in my pain like the little shit he was. He didn’t offer any explanation for our impromptu midnight trek through the dark—other than a wink, and then his open hand after he’d dumped his plunder once we’d reached the top of the hill.

I didn’t take the offered hand.

I didn’t know how to.

I didn’t know how to deal with any of this.

Away from the party, with the music and frivolity far enough it was barely an echo, I was in even more uncharted territory. The stars were so very bright above us, clearer now that we were away from the fire. We’d climbed high enough that even the trees couldn’t block them from sight.

“You just keep standing there looking pretty. I’ll get everything all set up,” Alex teased, not offended that I’d inadvertently ignored him.

“Sure,” I didn’t look at him, still drinking in the stars. They really were beautiful. I’d missed nights like this. New York’s skyline was too polluted to truly see them even when the weather was clear.

“Get what set up?” I questioned belatedly.

Alex didn’t reply.

He continued to rustle around, grunted, and swore a few times. A few minutes later, when he’d gone quiet, his fingers brushed against my wrist, snagging my attention.

“Your Majesty,” Alex said, “your feast awaits.” Kneeling in front of me, Alex’s head was tilted back. He looked at me the same way I’d just been staring at the stars. Like I was something worth admiring.

Realistically, I should’ve seen this coming.

Alex James was a lot of things, but subtle wasn’t one of them.

And he’d made it clear that if I accepted his proposal he was going to “spoil” me. I just…hadn’t expected it to be so soon—or…so…cute?

“You…made us a picnic.” I was honestly flummoxed. The picnic he’d set up was interesting to say the least. Alex knee-walked to the side so he could gesture at his hard work with a flourish. “Does it please, His Majesty? ”

Jesus he was so fucking cheesy.

“Dork,” I snorted.

The blanket was a patchwork monstrosity, threadbare, and as old as I was. The snacks piled on top of it consisted of an eclectic mix of items—mostly sugary—with the exception of a block of cheese Alex had charmed away from his cousins.

Sitting front and center, the package of cookies that Alex had scavenged from my mom’s stash had been torn open. Beside the cookies, the wine bottle—pink moscato—had accidentally tipped to the side on the grass. Luckily for us it remained capped. Capped and not corked. Our only saving grace as even Alex, with all his foraging skills, would not have been able to score a bottle opener from the crowd of half-drunk adults.

Fuck.

My eyes burned.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say.

He was joking in an attempt to make me laugh, or smile or…something. But I had the strangest, horrible urge to cry instead. My throat went tight. My numb hands were so very lonely without him holding them. I was supposed to be smiling. To be teasing him back—but instead…I simply…stared.

Stared and stared and stared.

Stared at his clumsy picnic—at this sweet, unfamiliar gesture—and did my best not to fall apart. My earlier calm was gone, drowned by loss and loneliness and gratitude all at once. I squeezed my arms tightly around my body to keep myself from falling apart.

Thirty-three years of my life had taught me to expect disappointment. That I wasn’t worth the effort. This was effort. Effort to please me. To…I don’t know—clichely get me to like him more? Romantic and clumsy, but…perfect all the same.

Alex had said it wasn’t fake. That this was real. Just temporary.

And I took that to heart, as I beheld the most lovely, heart-achingly romantic gesture I’d ever received.

And I didn’t…know what to do with it.

“Hey…” Alex’s smile, once bright, was gone. “George—” He was in my personal space before I could blink. Limber for such a big man. Huge hands cupped my face. The pads of his fingers tickled my temples. Alex’s breath was minty, somehow. He probably carried mints with him. Or mouthwash. The slut. But even that thought couldn’t make me smile. “What’s wrong, George? You don’t like it?”

“It’s not that.”

“You not a wine guy?” Alex’s pale eyes flickered with emotion. I wanted to yell at him. Wanted to push him away, to storm down the hill, and escape. But even more than that…the shriveled, lonely part of me wondered what would happen if I didn’t. What might happen if I stayed? If I didn’t run—if I let myself accept this for what it was.

If I let myself trust again.

“I like wine,” I murmured numbly. “Sometimes.”

“If you don’t like sweets I’ve got the cheese.” Alex was trying to make me laugh again. And it just…it wasn’t fair. Why was he doing this to me? Why was he being so nice? In fact, why had he been so nice all day? It was confusing. Confusing and sweet, and…and…intimidating.

He’d said sex was optional—and I truly believed him. It was a big reason I’d said yes to his scheme. Because I didn’t think he’d stop being kind to me if I didn’t. And for the first time in my life, I wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted by someone who didn’t also want to hurt me.

I had wanted to taste what it felt like to be enough.

But this was…God.

This was so much more than that.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me,” I choked out, heart thundering. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do. Why would you do this ?”

“Oh, Georgie,” Alex’s voice dropped low. “Because I like you. Obviously. It’s our…third date? Yes. Third.” The two meals we’d shared before totally didn’t count, but I let it slide. I couldn’t get my mouth to work as I processed his words. “Our first officially- unofficial one, now that you’ve accepted your fate.”

Because I like you.

Simple as that.

“‘Accepted my fate?’ Jesus. You sound like a Bond villain.”

“Does that turn you on?”

“Fuck off.”

Alex laughed, not deterred whatsoever. With him clutching my cheeks the way he was there was nowhere I could hide. There was no pity in his voice, only understanding. “If it makes you feel better, this is a first for both of us.”

That did help.

And again, it felt like he was reading my mind.

Could we really be that in-tune?

I must’ve relaxed some because Alex’s next words were huskier. Throaty and full of pride. “There you go, that’s it,” he murmured. “Relax, Georgie Porgie.”

I hated that damn nickname.

One of Alex’s hands slid into the back of my hair, then down to squeeze my nape. I melted. “You know it’s okay, right? That this being your first picnic has nothing to do with you.”

We weren’t talking about picnics specifically. He knew that. I knew that. But I appreciated the euphemism.

“If it has nothing to do with me, then why has no one ever done something like this for me before?” My lip wobbled. “My ex?—”

“ Brendon . The asshole,” Alex finished for me, tone darkening. I made a stifled sound in amusement. He grinned. His pale eyes were even warmer than his hands. It was difficult not to melt when he held me so close.

“He…he never did anything like this.”

“Yeah?”

“Eight years and he never…” My voice wavered. “I thought it was my fa ult. That I wasn’t worth the effort? Or maybe it was just normal to feel lonely, even when you were with someone.” My chest squeezed so tight it made it hard to breathe.

Alex continued to hold me safe, his eyes full of understanding. He didn’t speak, letting me continue as if he knew just how badly I needed to get the words out. These horrible, awful words I’d never spoken aloud, not even to my therapist. Shards of glass that’d been stuck inside my throat for almost a decade.

“But you…you’ve only known me two days,” I continued.

“Nearly three,” Alex interrupted. I snorted. His smile was even brighter this time, crinkles by his eyes and everything. Dimples too. The same smile I’d admired when he’d been dappled with sunlight in my parents’ backyard. The same smile that had charmed me on the hike earlier that day. The same smile that I’d received when I’d eaten all of his potato salad, after promising him I wouldn’t.

There was a lump in my throat I couldn’t seem to swallow.

“Three days…” I didn’t argue, “and you’ve already done more for me than he did.” It was true, he had. Alex had been nothing but a constant irritation and source of strength. He’d been a pillar of kindness, even when he’d teased.

“Isn’t that…I mean… Doesn’t that make me pathetic?” My voice cracked. “I stayed with him, Alex. Voluntarily . For a long time…I think I knew, deep down, it wasn’t right. But I stayed anyway. I stayed even though staying hurt . Because I hoped one day…I’d be…enough? That we’d be happy. That I could be what he wanted if I just folded myself small enough.”

“I don’t think that makes you pathetic,” Alex answered, voice firm. We were whispering. There was no need to be loud when we shared every minty breath. I scoffed, trying to duck out of Alex’s grip—so I could escape what I’d just admitted—but Alex’s grip was unyielding. Squeezing me a little, his strong hands held me immobile. When he spoke again, I had no choice but to gaze at his mouth, then his nose, then his eyes—drinking in his every word, desperate to know what he thought .

“You’re loyal.”

“I’m…loyal?”

“Yeah.” Alex looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time. Like he’d never understood me as clearly as he did now, standing in the dark, with only crickets and the stars for company. “You loved him.” He said that simply, even though my love for Brendon had never been simple. “You wanted things to work out. That’s the opposite of pathetic. If anything…that’s pretty fucking admirable. At least, I think so.”

When I blinked, my lashes were wet.

“Loyal like Sam,” I responded, voice rough.

“Exactly.”

My smile was wobbly. Not at all as confident as he was. Not snappish and irritated as I often was when he was nearby. My walls had dropped, and in light of Alex’s high opinion of me, it was near impossible to pull them back up again. A reflex, nothing more. It could be trained away given time, if I let it.

I wasn’t sure I should.

This was just for practice, after all.

“I’m going to hug you now,” Alex warned. “Because you look like you need one. And hell, I could use one too, all things considered.”

I didn’t protest as he dropped my face and neck and pulled me in tight to his chest, tight enough my feet lifted from the ground and his back popped as he squeezed. “You’re a sweetheart, George-Arthur Milton,” Alex promised against my hair as I pushed at his chest, playfully fighting him to put me down. “I am honored to be yours.”

“Temporarily,” I reminded him.

“Temporarily?” he teased. It was a safety blanket. One that told us both what we were. That laid a line for us not to cross, so we wouldn’t be hurt again. “I thought you were a full-time sweetheart.” That hadn’t been what I was addressing, and he knew it.

But I played along .

“I’m not,” I countered, my ire softened by the smile I couldn’t seem to hide.

“You totally are,” Alex replied, squeezing me tight enough it was my turn to have my back pop. “Such a fucking sweetheart. So fucking cute, man. It’s ridiculous honestly.”

“All I do is snipe at you,” I replied, confused why he’d think any of this given the facts.

“Because you care,” Alex replied back. “And because it’s fun. Believe me, I get great joy out of sniping right back.”

Alex set me down but didn’t let me go. My chest was tight again, but this time, it was because he was still holding me close. Squeezing my bones together. It was easy to forget Brendon then, wrapped up in Alex as I was.

“If you ever stopped I’d think you’d been replaced by a pod person.”

“Or an alien.”

“Yeah, that.” Alex snorted, gave me another squeeze, and then released me. I didn’t even have time to mourn the loss of his sticky, summer warmth before he was flipping me around and steering me toward the picnic. “Now, stop ignoring all my hard work and thinking about other men?—”

“Jesus.”

“And enjoy your goddamn picnic, I swear to god.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I griped, smiling despite my best efforts as Alex walked me onto the blanket and then shoved me down. Stumbling, I flopped onto my ass, tipping my head back to observe him. Towering above me, the grin on Alex’s face did nothing to soften the heat in his eyes. He liked me below him. There was no denying that.

“Yeah, yeah. An asshole who cares,” Alex replied, falling into our usual bickering to set me at ease. “And who also wants to beat your ex with a baseball bat.”

“ Alex! ”

“Full of nails.” He flopped down beside me and immediately went for the bottle of wine. “You know, I usually don’t eat any of this stuff,” he said. I was grateful for the change of subject, not sure how to respond to his threats of violence .