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Dax’s eyes linger on his image in the mirror. He does a quarter turn one way, then the other. “I like it. Although I’m getting more Montague vibes. What do you think? Are we better suited as Romeo and Juliet? It’s far more dangerous.”
He does have a point. As soon as he says it, I see it. His outfit is all Romeo. Except that story is not the type of ending I’m aiming for. But Romeo and Juliet’s issue wasn’t a lack of love. It was logistics and preteen-level communication skills. Dax and I don’t have any big secrets to hide unless, of course, you count the fact that I’ve somehow created a slip in time.
Conflicted, I return to the racks. It’s time for me to find something equally amazing to stand beside Dax. I find two old prom dresses that, with the right costume jewelry, could transform meenough that I’ll look the part once everyone has had a couple of beers. When I step out of the changing room, Dax is staring at his phone, looking like his dog just died. Or maybe like his life’s work burned to ash, and the wound is still very fresh.
“What’s wrong?”
He looks up at the sound of my voice, shoving his phone into his back pocket.
“Got my work schedule for the next week followed by a flash of what the next fifty years of my life are going to look like.” He forces a smile, but his eyes give him away. He’s miserable.
“It’s my problem to adjust to, Gems.” He tugs my arm so I fall against his chest, and he wraps me in a comforting hug that both of us need. “I’ll be fine. There’s only one thing you can do, and you’re doing a pretty bang-up job of it.”
“Oh yeah?” My face stays pressed to his chest because I’m not sure what I’ll do if I meet his eyes right now.
“Yeah. You being here with me. That’s all I need.”
Chapter 27
Even before Iopen my eyes, I know that I’m not in my own bed.
You’d think I would have gotten used to it by now, seeing as waking up in beds that are not my own is apparently my thing now. This time, what sets me off is the blaring of “Fergalicious” somewhere far above me and the smell of men’s cologne mixed with basement musk and the sound of water running. A shower.
I stretch my hand across the cotton sheet and find Dax’s side of the bed still warm. I roll over and plant my face in his pillow, breathing in that perfect combination of cologne and soap and the lingering smells of sleeping Dax that I somehow find intoxicating. I could do this every morning. Forever. Wake up next to him.
I roll over and stare up at the ceiling just as the water turns off. There isn’t exactly a bathroom in this basement. I guess the previous homeowners were told they could increase their property value by putting one in, so they installed a shower, sink, and toilet but never finished the floors or walled any of it in, so they just linger, open and exposed in the far corner of the basement.
Dougie and Brandon never needed it until now. It’s a quirkylittle feature of Dax’s new bachelor pad that I find endearingly unconventional, though he finds it horrifying.
I lay for a bit, counting cobwebs, listening to Brandon’s random thumping above, and expecting Dax to climb back into bed at any moment. Maybe even wake me with some morning penis. After a few more moments go by, I start to get restless and horny, so I wrap myself in his comforter and look around for him.
He’s sitting so still that I almost miss him. He’s in a suit I haven’t seen him wear since his uncle died almost two years ago. Around his neck is a red tie that I’m pretty sure he picked up yesterday at the thrift shop. In his hands are a pair of black socks. He’s staring at them with a look that is so forlorn it makes the spots between my ribs ache.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He looks up, and his eyes find mine, and for a moment, it’s like I can feel his emotions. The helplessness, the sorrow, theWhere did I go wrong?TheWhat will happen now?TheIs this how I’m going to begin my days for the rest of my life?
However, Dax just smiles. “Got the first-day jitters.”
We both know he’s lying, and I’m lying when I say, “I’m sure it’s going to be great.”
We both keep up the faux-happy charade as we climb the stairs, join Brandon for breakfast, and walk to Dax’s bus stop.
“Give all the other tax associates hell.” I straighten his tie and give him one last kiss as the bus pulls up and opens its doors.
“I’ll see you tonight at the party.” He squeezes my hand as he boards the bus. I feel that squeeze all the way to my heart.
—
“Those don’t looklike exercise clothes.”
Kiersten eyes my jeans and gladiator sandals before her eyes settle on the giant box of Nana’s doughnuts in my hand.
We’re down by the bay in the parking lot next to the marina, getting ready for our regular Saturday morning walk along the lakeshore path.
“I’d argue that we don’t really exercise when we walk,” I counter. “It’s more of a leisurely stroll.”
Kiersten shrugs. “You make a good point.” She lifts the lid of my doughnut box, revealing the assorted dozen. I hold my breath as she looks inside.
