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The four-poster bed stood on the far side of the room, tall and proud, with fluffy covers and mountains of pillows on top. There were two armchairs upholstered in English rose fabric with mismatching bolsters in front of a marble fireplace. Alex ran his hand along the carved wood mantle, quietly whistling at the detail.
I walked by him to the turret part of the room. Rounded walls of windows, a custom, velvet-covered bench fitted just beneath them. I sat, tucking my legs to the side, and peered out the window.
“Nice view?” Alex took a seat on the opposite side of the bench.
“Incredible.” It was. From here, we had a clear shot of the lake, and beyond, a thick forest of trees so vividly orange and red, they appeared aflame.
“See why I’m a lover of the lake?”
Snorting, I leaned my forehead on the cool windowpane. “You’ve never been here, have you? Tell me the truth.”
“Okay, okay. I’ve never been here. But now I’m kinda kicking myself for that oversight.” He pressed his fingertips into my leg. “Tell me why you stopped talking to Allie.”
“I really don’t know.” I huffed on the window and wrote my name with my nail. “The breakup messed me up and changed the course I’d been planning on while Allie was in this solid relationship and heading to grad school with ambition tattooed on her forehead. She made me feel…”
“Inadequate?” he provided, a little too fast.
“I suppose. And it isn’t like Ihaven’tspoken to her. We’ve stayed in steady contact over the last four years, but I’ve traveled a lot and she moved to Philadelphia. Plus, god, I never wanted to chance hanging out with her and accidentally running into Harris.”
“Still? That guy still affects you?” Alex had gone soft, quiet. Harris was a prickly subject for me, but forus, he was a block full of knives.
“I really don’t know, Alex.” I took my head from the window and faced him. “I imagine we’ll see this weekend.”
“You hoping to light that flame again?”
I spread my palms on my thighs. “All I’m hoping for is a little closure. I truly think he owes that to me, but I don’t know if he’ll pay up…or if I’ll have the guts to push the issue.”
“All right, cool girl. Well, good luck with all that.” He got up from the window seat and walked over to the overstuffed and oversized bed. First, he pressed down on the mattress, testing its springiness, I supposed, then he launched himself onto it, landing on his back with his feet dangling over the sides.
I trailed after him and gripped one of the posters. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep here?”
He propped himself on his elbows and cocked his head. “You’re seriously going to let me share this bed with you? I’m not going to have to contort myself into one of the armchairs?”
I had thought about it. It might have filled me with just a little glee to force him to spend his nights on the floor, but I wasn’t that cruel, not even to him. The bed could fit us and our acres of baggage without issue. Now, if I woke up to Alex hovering and gazing at me adoringly, he’d be getting the boot.
“I think I can manage to keep my hands to myself. It’s a big bed.”
His brow quirked. “You have a bad habit ofnotkeeping your hands to yourself around me.”
Instantly, my chest tightened. I made my way around the bed, casually running my palm along the duvet—anything to avoid the amusement in his eyes—anything to avoid the times I had lost my head around Alex Murray.
“That was a long time ago, Alex, and I’d hardly call it a habit.” I ventured into the bathroom, drawn to the bright, clean marble and the clawfoot tub under a picture window. “I might sleep in here anyway.”
I climbed into the dry tub and stretched out, eyes closed. “Yes, this is my spot.”
A shadow crossed me. When I cracked my eye, I wasn’t the least bit surprised to find Alex leaning his elbow against the glass shower enclosure, taking me in. He didn’t speak right away, so I waited, curious about his sudden tension.
“I’m gonna head out,” he said.
Both eyes cracked. “You’re running already?”
“Nah.” He lightly smacked the glass with his open palm. “Just need some fresh air. I’ll be back later. Be good.”
“Running,” I singsonged after him.
“Not running,” he called back just before the door to our room clicked shut.
Releasing a heavy exhale, I closed my eyes again. This weekend had gotten off to a weird start, leaving me with little confidence things would swing my way for the rest of it.
With my toe, I pushed the faucet on. Cold water poured over my calves, soaking my jeans and the skin beneath, sending me right back to that night of Charlie’s funeral and dipping my feet in the pool.
My brother had taken me aside during the wake and warned me to keep away from Alex, as if I was the type of monster who’d be mean to him when he was so clearly in deep mourning. But that was Mo. He saw the best in me, but he saw my worst too, and he knew I was very well capable of kicking a man when he was down.
Not Alex, though. I didn’t kick him. Instead, I took his virginity, which I’m pretty sure Mo would say was much worse.
The thing was, even now, with all the bad feelings and resentment between us, I couldn’t find it in myself to regret that night. It had been clumsy and fumbling, but it had also felt special. It had been right.
It was a long time ago. Eons had happened since. Miles of hurt marred the path to where we were now. Alex leaving less than a half hour after we checked into our room just proved we would never get over our past.
This was who we were now. Two parallel lines that would never meet. Two dissonant chords clashing against each other. Two very different people, who, in another life, might have been best friends.
