She apologized again before quickly exiting the enclosure with Bradley giving Chester a sideways glance. I said, “Crisis averted, and Chester is a happy camper.”
“Where did you learn how to break something like that up? I’m starting to wonder what I would do without you,” said Liam.
“My cousin Rachel is a dog trainer. She doesn’t breed them like your cousin, but she taught me a few tricks of the trade through the years.”
“Well, thank you. That’s only the third time that Chester has gotten into an altercation here that I can remember. Every time it’s because another more aggressive dog snaps at him. I don’t think Chester would ever go after another dog on his own.”
I said, “That’s because he’s well-trained and happy. He knows that he doesn’t need to defend territory, and there would be nothing to be gained by going after strangers.”
I heard the gate open behind us, and a woman dressed in sleek business clothing stepped inside with a small dog on a leash at her side. I leaned over to Liam and asked, “Is that a Yorkie? I think that’s a Yorkie.”
“It is, and he was the self-appointed ruler of the park until Jake came along with Fritz.”
The woman squatted down while tugging at her skirt to maintain modesty. She unsnapped the Yorkie’s leash. I watched the dog trot purposefully into the center of the park. It seemed to ignore the other dogs while busily sniffing at objects on the ground.
Liam said, “It’s good to see you, Faith. I think it’s been a couple of weeks.”
She nodded and sighed saying, “It has been a crazy time. Our schedules are filled with a lot of weekend overtime work. The projects never seem to end.”
Liam nodded in sympathy saying, “I certainly understand that. It happens to me when we’re setting up a big new exhibit at the museum.”
I watched as she scanned the other dogs in the park. Faith said, “Chester looks happy. He’s in a playful mood. Look at him over there preening with Pearl.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t see him just a few minutes ago,” said Liam. “We had a new arrival, and the dog went after Chester. It was an aggressive approach, and my friend Alex here had to pull them apart.”
“Friend?”
“Yes, he’s visiting for awhile.”
“Only a friend?” asked Faith. I could see the glint in her eyes. They were a rich brown and set in an alluring mocha-colored face. I knew what she was implying even if it took Liam a moment to get up to speed.
He said, “Yes, a friend. Are you implying something else?”
“Well, I would have pegged you for a couple,” said Faith. “The two of you are just adorable standing there together.”
5
Liam
Alex filled the dishwasher with the plates, silverware, and glasses left from a dinner I cooked featuring my secret pasta carbonara recipe. He called over his shoulder saying, “I’ll do the grilling when Sarah comes over. That’s the least I can do after you cooked a dinner like this.”
I said, “I don’t mean to be skeptical, but do you know how to cook? So far I haven’t seen you do much more than put together sandwiches and tossed salads. I’m not complaining since you do so many other things around here, but are you a serious cook as well as such a talented handyman?”
Alex pushed the door of the dishwasher closed and turned around wiping his hands on a towel. He said, “I know how to grill. I grew up with my mom and dad taking on stereotypical roles in the household. She cooked everything except for in the summertime when Dad fired up the grill. He turned out all sorts of great steaks, chicken, and burgers. He even grilled fruits and vegetables. I watched closely and learned all of his special secrets. I’m sure my food would feel good in here.” He reached out and rubbed my flat belly.
Trying to ignore his touch, I said, “That means he could have done a lot more cooking than just working with the grill. Many of the principles are the same…without grill marks.”
“He could have, but Mom wouldn’t let him anywhere near her stove. Maybe you should give me some cooking lessons.” Alex said, “Of course I mean cooking food,” before he added, “I also wanted to ask if we should invite Mark from the dog park?”
“Mark?”
“He’s a guy who has a Welsh corgi. You’ve probably seen him. He’s in the process of breaking up with a boyfriend, so we bonded over the experience. I told him about Eric. I understand the emotions he feels in his gut. I suggested that we have dinner together sometime. Maybe the backyard cookout can work for that,” said Alex.
A slight lump developed in my throat thinking about Alex comforting another guy. I knew that it shouldn’t bother me, but I blurted out the first question that came to mind. I asked, “Are you interested in him?”
“Me interested in Mark?” Alex laughed. He said, “No, Mark isn’t my type even if he was available. I’m not thinking about him that way. He’s trying to save his relationship with Max, but I think it’s hanging by a pretty thin thread. I’m just trying to be a good friend and let him know it’s not the end of the world if they do decide to break up.”
I took a deep breath, and the lump began to disappear. I speculated about what it meant. It wasn’t arduous to figure out, but I didn’t want to dwell on the depth of my attraction to Alex. I feared that it was growing every day. Instead, I said, “Sure, invite him over. If you’re going to man the grill, I’ll still have to work with some of the veggies inside. If four of us are here, that will save poor Sarah from feeling like she has to constantly move back and forth from the kitchen to the deck to keep up conversations with both of us. She’ll have more time to spin out her stories about cousins that joined the circus or just missed boarding the Edmund Fitzgerald. What do you think for Saturday? Steaks? Or chicken?”
“I think steaks. Real beef. Ribeye or strip steaks. I like real beef. Don’t you?”
* * *
For the first time in what seemed like forever, I had an uneventful week at work. The controversial donation still hung in the balance, but I completed all of my research that would contribute to the ultimate decision. That left me free to move forward on the consideration of additional purchases to the art museum’s acclaimed collection of primitive and outsider art. My boss was considering sending me on a week-long driving trip up north to visit multiple artists. I had little knowledge of the subject when I first began working for the museum, but I was an eager learner, and I couldn’t wait to meet some of the artists in person that I only knew through their work.
I gently asked Alex about his job search Thursday morning. I wanted to sound encouraging and not appear confrontational. He said, “The delivery work isn’t panning out, and the wages are low, so I’m starting to put out feelers for teaching options up in St. Paul. I’m unlikely to get a public school position in the middle of a school year, but a few private schools have openings.”
I didn’t want to think about saying goodbye to Alex and said, “There’s no rush or anything. I just wanted to check in. It is great having you around. I’ve never been so caught up on house projects. We’re almost at the end of the list now. Sarah will be impressed. I’m always telling her about this thing or that thing that’s crumbling or falling apart in the house.”
Alex looked up at the clock. “I think it’s time for you to head to the museum.” He handed me a bag saying, “Here’s your lunch and, don’t worry, I’ll get the breakfast dishes washed.” I couldn’t help but smile when I walked out the door. Before pulling out of the driveway, I peered into the paper bag. Alex gave me the last of the baked ham left in the refrigerator. He made a sandwich out of it, and I got the last apple, too.
There was a handwritten note in the bag. It said, “If I can’t share lunch with you, making it for you is the next best thing.” It was signed, “Alex,” with a bold slash completing the “x.”
When I arrived home from work on Friday, I offered to take Chester out. Alex said, “He did his duty just an hour ago. He probably doesn’t need to go out for another
couple of hours.”
“I understand that. I just want some time with Chester in the backyard, and I’m sure he won’t mind. Is there a reason I shouldn’t take him out?”
Alex shrugged. “Go right ahead, and yes, it’s good for you to get some more one on one time with Chester. The tennis ball and that device for flinging it are right next to the door. Why don’t you take those with you?”
Something in Alex’s voice made me think that I was in for some type of surprise. He was usually genial and upbeat. Instead, his voice sounded flat like he was attempting to hide emotion. I wasn’t wrong about my suspicions. My jaw dropped as I stepped through the gate and released Chester into the backyard. I always did my best to keep the yard in presentable shape, but, as I looked around, the change was stunning.
Every flower bed and the edging around each shrub was thoroughly weeded. A pile of lumber that previously rested against the back fence was gone. My aunt and uncle tore down a small shed years before I moved in, and they left the pile of lumber “just in case” they ever needed it for another project. Over the years the boards warped and rotted. It would never be useful again, but I continued to put off disposing of it. Now it was gone.
There were even fresh new flowers dotting the edges of the fence. I wondered where Alex got them. It was like industrious little elves took over my yard. He mowed the grass, and he raked up all the leaves. I called back to the house, “Alex!”
He pushed open the patio door and stepped onto the back deck. He asked, “Is there something wrong? I just tidied up a little for the backyard cookout. I was hoping to show you myself, but you insisted on taking Chester out.”
I flung the tennis ball to the rear of the yard for Chester and turned to face Alex. I said, “This looks amazing. I’ve never had my backyard look anything like this. I appreciate it all. I feel like I should owe you some money for all of the work. Where did you get the flowers?”
“No, you don’t need to pay me anything. I guess if you think that you need to, you could reimburse me for the cost of the flowers. That little hardware store on Overlook Avenue had a closing out sale with some mums for the fall season. I thought those rusty orange and purple colors would look great with the falling leaves.”
“I’ll pay for the flowers, and I’ll stick in a little extra.” The entire conversation about the backyard made me a little uncomfortable. I knew that Alex did the work solely out of his desire to make the cookout a success, but it would have cost a lot of money to hire someone to do it. Accepting it for free tugged uncomfortably at my heart.
I moved my right arm in a sweeping gesture around the yard and said, “It hasn’t looked this good since I moved in. Sarah is going to be shocked. She will probably want to steal you away from me. The maintenance people for her apartment slack off a little too often.”
“Where does she live?” asked Alex.
“In the Bessemer Building. It’s that tall, older high-rise apartment building just as you climb the bluff out of downtown to enter the East Side proper.”
“Is it far away?”
“I guess it’s not too far.”
“I’ll see if I can walk Chester down that direction next week, and we’ll take a look at it. I love high-rise apartment buildings, particularly the vintage ones.”
* * *
Sarah was bubbling over with compliments about the house and the backyard. She said, “You always keep everything clean and nice, Liam, but it almost looks like those real estate staging people attacked the place. Your house is ready for a magazine.”
I laughed and said, “You don’t have to go overboard. It’s just an ordinary bungalow with knick-knacks and a few good pieces of art.”
“Seriously,” said Sarah, “The backyard looks like a real gardener lives here. Is that all Alex’s work, too?”
“A huge part of it is, yes. I’ve never had it look like this. It wasn’t even this clean and nice when I first moved in. Alex is a genius with it just like the things he worked on in the house. Maybe I can get credit for a few of the plants that I put in last year.”
Sarah poured herself another glass of wine and headed for the kitchen door. She said, “I’m going to step outside to talk to the grill master. I’ll send Mark your way. Try to say something bright and cheerful. His sad bottom lip is nearly hanging to his knees. I almost feel like I should pin a tail on his backside like Eeyore.”
Less than thirty seconds after Sarah disappeared through the door, Mark entered. He gave me a sheepish grin and said, “I need to refill my wine glass.”
“And then you’re heading back outside?”
“Not if you aren’t.”
I said, “I have these green beans to cook, and then I need to set the table, and I have a fresh loaf of home-baked bread to slice.”
“Did Alex bake that?” asked Mark.
I tried to answer the question without sounding petulant. I wanted to get some credit for my efforts with the meal, but I didn’t want to demand attention. My parents spent a lot of time when I was growing up teaching their children humility. I spoke quietly and said, “No, I baked this. It’s a special recipe passed down from my grandmother.”
“The two of you are pretty amazing with food,” said Mark. “I wish my boyfriend, Max, and I were half as good.”
I turned to look Mark in the eye. His face was scrunched up into something like a painful grimace. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and said, “Alex told me how tough it is right now, but it will pass. Just hang on, and you’ll figure out the path forward. Every relationship runs into speed bumps and potholes.”
We filled dinner with chatter about the city, winter on its way, and Sarah’s shopping spree on new office furniture. Her bank was remodeling an entire floor of their building. She said that her company made very few updates in the previous decade, and they decided to do the remodel all at once. She was excited about a new glass-topped desk and a sleek leather-and-chrome desk chair on order.
As he finished chewing the last bite of steak from his plate, Mark asked, “Alex, when do you leave?”
It was a question that I both did and didn’t want answered. I was worried about Alex commenting on it at the dinner. I was scared that I might shed a tear. I hoped that I would get some advance notice when Alex finally sorted out his job situation, but I was getting used to his presence and all of the benefits he brought. He was already a friend, and I wasn’t ready for him to leave.
Alex said, “I’m thinking just another week or two. Honestly, I’m surprised that Liam hasn’t already kicked me out. He has been more than generous about everything. I can’t imagine how hellish it would’ve been if I had to go back to my parents. They love me, but they don’t love that I’m into guys.”
Sarah winced at the last comment, but then she turned in her chair, looked out over the backyard and changed the subject. She said, “I think you’ve repaid much of the generosity, Alex. Liam’s backyard has never looked quite like this. I bet that he will miss you when you’re gone.”
Mark chimed in, “I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”
Before I could respond, Alex said, “It’s not like I will drop off the edge of the earth. St. Paul is only five hours away. That’s an easy day of driving. It’s perfect for a long weekend trip. I’ll invite you all up. We can hang out at one of the lakes. Let’s plan on it for next spring.”
As he spoke, I found myself noticing intimate details of Alex’s face and his body. He had such an easy smile, and my eyes traced the lines of the veins that protruded from his muscular forearms. He hadn’t been to the gym since he moved into my place, but the work he was doing around the house kept him fit. I had to agree with Sarah’s observation. I would miss Alex when he was gone.
Changing the subject again, Sarah asked, “And how are things coming at work with Mr. Big Money McNasty, Liam?”
“We’ve got all of our ducks in a row. I’ve researched all of the pieces in my collections that the donor might find offensive. We’ve heard that he’s
close to deciding on the donation. The museum director is excited. It really would be a large gift, and he thinks we’re close to getting it with no strings attached.”
6
Alex
I was running out of projects to complete in Liam’s house. I even cleaned up the basement and sorted through boxes in the attic. Liam was excited at first about what might be up there. I think he envisioned long lost family artifacts or little porcelain objects that could be worth something on Antiques Roadshow.
Instead, I discovered boxes of cheap clothes from the 70s and 80s along with stacks of old issues of TV Guide and National Geographic. One box contained framed photos of Liam’s ancestors. He instructed me to keep that one to the side of the others. I suggested that he throw out the old magazines and embarrassing clothes.
Liam said, “No, they don’t belong to me, and as long as my great aunt and uncle are alive, I’ll keep them in place. I would never hear the end of it if Uncle Wade wanted to know what was on TV the day they got married, and I told them I threw the magazines away.”
While I swept up ancient cobwebs and bumped my head on the rafters three different times, I imagined the attic as a comforting refuge from the rest of the world. It had a small window that looked out toward the street. I could furnish it modestly with a low Japanese table and cushions. A hot plate for green tea would complete the picture.
I took one last look at the attic and smiled before carefully climbing down the ladder and folding it back into the ceiling. I itched with the sensation of being covered in dust and headed directly for the bathroom.
I was stepping out of the shower after washing off the old grime and spider silk when I heard Liam’s voice. He was calling, “Alex? Where are you? Are you in the house? I got home early.”
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I pulled open the bathroom door just a crack and called, “Up here in the bathroom! I just got out of the shower.”
The Pretend Husband: Romance In the City, Book 1 Page 4
