Either way, it felt weird to tell Steven I was still getting over my ex when my ex was one of his roommates. I picked up my pace. Maybe I was wrong, and Steven really did just want the exercise?
Four blocks in, it didn’t matter either way. I’d almost forgotten Steven was behind me. With the breeze on my face and the music in my ears and the endorphins pumping through my veins, the weight of everything I’d been feeling lifted, even just temporarily, and I felt like I was going to be okay.
We followed Church Street past St. Phillips Anglican Church and the Dock Street Theatre. We took a left on Broad, staying straight until we hit East Bay. We ran by the old tavern across from Rainbow Row, the one with the hatch in the floor that led down to the underground tunnels beneath the city, then carefully cut across South Adger's Wharf—the cobblestones were pretty to look at but had broken ankle written all over them—to the path that would lead up to Waterfront Park.
With only an occasional glance to make sure Steven hadn’t fallen too far behind, my mind mostly stayed on Alex. To his credit, he was obviously doing a lot to make me more comfortable. But there was still so much we weren’t saying to each other.
Except, something had happened the night before when he’d insisted that I sit down with my food instead of serving everyone else. He’d stayed true to his word and remained in the kitchen long enough to make sure all the guys had helped clean up, making it clear it was their responsibility, not mine. A couple of times throughout the night, I’d caught Alex looking at me, something in his eyes reminding me of when there was a we.
If I let myself forget how much he’d hurt me when he’d left New York, it was easy to remember how much I’d loved him before he left. And that felt dangerous. Treacherous. But also, a little thrilling. And that was the scariest realization of all.
I slowed to a stop in front of the massive pineapple fountain in the center of the park. In the spring or summer, I might have skipped Waterfront to avoid all the tourists. But in early-November, the place was nearly deserted. I glanced over my shoulder. Steven was a few paces back and he stopped as soon as he saw me, leaning over to prop his hands on his knees. Poor guy. We weren’t running that fast, but we’d maybe gone a little far without a break for someone who wasn’t in running shape.
I motioned to a bench to the right of the fountain and he hobbled over, dropping down beside me. “You okay?” I asked.
He nodded but didn’t speak, holding up a finger while he caught his breath. Finally, he managed a smile. “And to think, we still have to run back to the house.”
“We can take a break for a few minutes if you want,” I said.
He leaned forward, dropping his head between his knees. “Ugh. You might have to bring the car back for me.”
I laughed. “Come on. Sit up. Enjoy the view. You’ll be fine.”
It was a view. The morning sun was low on the horizon, reflecting off the still water of the bay. Seagulls flew overhead, black dots against a spread of fluffy clouds in the deep blue sky. I breathed in, letting the serene setting calm my nerves and whisper peace into my soul. The water always did that for me, the beach, especially. I’d already made the trip out to Sullivan’s Island multiple times since arriving home. Luckily, Isaac had been pretty easy about loaning me his car.
Steven sucked in another deep breath. “Okay. I think I’m maybe okay now.”
I chuckled. “You don’t run much, do you?”
“Not unless I’m running to the fridge for another drink, no.”
Just then, a group of cadets from the Citadel ran by, their breathing labored and heavy, their pace probably double what ours had been.
“It could be worse,” I said to Steven. “You could have been trying to keep up with those guys.”
Steven shook his head. “No joke.”
He stared at the cadets as they ran away, the silence stretching long between us.
But then Steven sat up, his posture stiffened, and he turned to me with obvious intention. “Is there something going on between you and Alex?” he blurted.
That . . . was not what I’d been expecting. “Um, what?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking I’d like to ask you to dinner. But I didn’t want to if something was going on between you two.”
Why would he think there was something going on between me and Alex? Had Alex said something? Done something? Or had I? Was I being too obvious? Staring at him too much? Was he staring at me? Even as my brain raced through the possibilities, I realized how ridiculous they were. Did I want Alex to be staring at me? It was like my life was one giant game of Hot or Cold. One minute I hated him with my entire soul. The next, I was feeling the feels, trying not to swoon over some charming thing he’d said or done.
“Sorry,” Steven said. “Was it wrong to ask? You’ve got this—” He raised a finger and motioned to the deep crease between my brows. “So serious.”
I relaxed my face. “I was just thinking. Why did you think there was something going on with me and Alex?”
“Because he watches your every move,” Steven said. “And he nearly punched Mushroom when he said something about your—”
I held up my hands. “Please don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to know.”
Steven shrugged. “He seems into you. And I’m not that guy that’s going to infringe on that. If there’s something there, I completely respect it.”
“Why didn’t you ask him this question?”
Steven didn’t even miss a beat. “Because I’m strangely and inexplicably intimidated by the dapper businessman with his fancy car and cuff links. I mean, I know he’s a nice guy. But . . .” He shrugged. “You felt a little more approachable.”
I shot Steven a look. “The dapper businessman? Is that really how you guys see him?”
“Oh, come on. Southern accent aside, you don’t think he seems like he walked out of a Jane Austen novel? He’s just so polished.”
“Wait, wait. You read Jane Austen?”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Why do women always ask that? I studied British Lit in grad school. I’ve read Austen, Bronte, Wolfe, Eliot. Why is everyone so surprised?”
“Steven. You co-host a YouTube show that devoted an entire episode on the flavor profiles of toothpaste-filled donuts.”
He paused. “Fine. Fair point.”
I shook my head. Steven’s graduate degree was definitely worth another conversation, but he had asked me on a date. And he deserved an answer.
“Alex and I are friends,” I said. I forced myself to meet Steven’s gaze. “But I can’t have dinner with you.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Can I ask why not?”
“It’s complicated. We are just friends, me and Alex. But, there’s history there. We were a thing, and now we’re . . . And I’m just not in a place mentally, you know? Where I can think about dating or, anything, really. I have a lot to figure out.”
“So you’re the ex that—oh.”
“Oh, what?” I asked. Had Alex talked about me?
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Steven said. “Thanks for being honest with me.”
I smiled but didn’t say anything, struggling to let go of what he’d meant.
“Do you think you and Alex will get back together?” he asked, taking me by surprise.
“What? No.” Even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Steven laughed. “Wow. Way to convince me.”
A blush crept up my cheeks. “It’s not that easy. We’re just so different, you know? And . . .” My words trailed off. Why was I telling him any of this anyway? “Like I said. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, you already said that,” Steven said. “You guys clearly have something going on though. Everybody senses it. Maybe you need to stop thinking about it and see what can happen. Just jump in. Buck the plan, ignore the outline, trust your gut, and take life as it comes.”
“Wow. That was a lot of clichés in one sentence.”
He grinned. “Things on
ly become clichés because people say them all the time. And if people say things all the time, it must be because they work. Take it from me. As a guy who ended up doing the exact opposite of what he’d always planned for himself, sometimes you have to embrace the unexpected.”
I was pretty sure Steven was only referencing my relationship, or lack of relationship, with Alex, but I wondered if his sage advice couldn’t also be applied to my work life. I’d clung to the idea of working for LeFranc for so long. Even since I’d left, I’d had a hard time imagining a future in fashion without the LeFranc name giving me confidence. But maybe it was time I let go of my LeFranc dreams. I’d walked away from my LeFranc job, yes. But as I watched a pelican swoop down and scoop a fish out of the bay, I realized with startling clarity that I still hadn’t let go of my dreams. And I’d never move forward if I couldn’t well and truly cut myself free.
“You okay?” Steven asked with a warm smile.
I liked Steven. He was completely unexpected. And funny. And he had an adorable dimple in his left cheek that showed up when he smiled big. In a different life, a life where I wasn’t completely hung up on the fact that Steven said Alex stared at me all the time, I would have said yes to dinner. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Want to think and run?” he asked. He stood from the bench and offered me a hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze when I slipped my fingers into his.
After my run, I climbed the stairs to my studio and flipped on the light switch at the top of the stairs. I froze. My room was totally different. The red couch was gone; in its place, there was a bed. An actual bed with sheets and pillows and a fluffy duvet. There was an end table with a lamp, and a dresser against the wall, and a chair by the window.
I stood in the middle of the room and turned around in amazement. I’d only been gone an hour. I sank down onto the bed—a bed!—my heart tight in my chest. It had to have been Alex. He was the only one who would have thought to do something this nice. Curse the man. He was making it really hard for me to stay mad at him.
I paused at the top of the stairs. Was that his point? Was he trying to fix things between us?
If he was, did I want the same thing?
I found Alex in the kitchen. Without a word, I crossed to where he stood at the counter and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. The closeness nearly did me in, kicking my senses into a hyperaware state. His scent was familiar, amazing, bone-melting. And his touch. It was like every nerve ending in my body was suddenly on high alert, so that I could instantly identify every single part of me that was in contact with any part of him. The stretch of my arm across his neck and shoulder. My cheek against his chest. It was heady, intoxicating, in the best possible way. He hesitated at first, then slowly raised one arm, wrapping it loosely around my back.
“Thank you,” I said softly, as I pulled away.
Alex furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what?”
“For my room,” I said. “It’s really nice.”
Alex’s face didn’t change. “Dani, it wasn’t me.”
My shoulders fell, heat rising in my cheeks. If it wasn’t him, then that hug was way out of line. I took a step backward, putting some much-needed distance between us, but clung to my conviction a moment longer. “The bed. The table. Everything. It wasn’t you?”
He quickly shook his head. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
I took a giant step back. “Then who did?”
He shrugged, almost dismissively. “Maybe you should look around a little more.”
I ran back to the studio and climbed the stairs two at a time, looking again at the furniture. It was all new, stuff I’d never seen. But there, on the top of the dresser, was a stack of books I’d somehow missed before. I crossed the room and ran my hand across the spines. They were mine. Books from my old bedroom, probably boxed up and stored in the garage before Mom and Dad had left for Europe.
“Do you like it?”
I spun around.
Isaac stood sheepishly in the doorway.
“You did this for me?”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess, when I saw how much time you were spending up here, I just figured . . .” His words bled into each other, tumbling out one after the other. “I realize the guys are probably hard to be around all the time and you’ve been a good sport about it and the food has been really good the past few weeks and I guess, just, I wanted to say thank you. It’s actually been nice having you around.”
Tears welled up. It was the nicest thing Isaac had ever done for me. And the nicest thing he’d ever said to me. What had gotten into him? I crossed the room and hugged him tightly.
“Thank you,” I said, with a sniff. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“I wasn’t sure if you had furniture and stuff in New York; at first I thought I could bring it all down, but then I called Paige and she said your place up there had been furnished and so there wasn’t much to move, so I figured I’d buy new stuff.” He pressed the heel of his hand into his eye. I recognized the gesture from when we were kids. He was nervous. “I’m not much of a designer, but the lady at the furniture store said she thought this would work for a girl. Oh, and sorry about Steven,” he added at the end. “I hope he didn’t pester you too much.”
“Wait, you told Steven to go running with me? He tried to ask me out!”
Isaac’s face fell. “He did? I told him to keep you out of the house for a while, not to hit on you! You didn’t say yes, did you? Please tell me you didn’t say yes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t. But why would it matter if I did? Am I not good enough for your co-star?”
Isaac balked. “What? No! Dani, he’s not good enough for you.”
“He has a master’s degree in British literature,” I said, my voice all smug-like.
“Yeah, and he uses that master’s degree to bait all kinds of women he brings back to the house in excessive numbers. He’s nice on the surface, and he’s great on camera, but the dude’s a total player.”
Oh. Well then.
It kinda made me happy to hear Isaac being all big-brother-like and protective.
We stood there a moment longer until I reached up and gave him another hug. “Thank you for the bedroom,” I said. “It’s perfect.”
He took my hand and led me to the bed where he sat, his hands propped up on his knees. He took a deep breath. “I can tell you’ve been sad, Dani.”
I sat beside him, wondering where this was going. This version of Isaac was foreign territory.
“I don’t know everything that happened in New York,” he continued, “and I won’t pretend to understand fashion or how important it is to you. But if a place is toxic?” He shrugged. “It’s a good thing to move on. I know it stinks that moving on meant coming here, having to live with—” He made a sweeping motion with his hands to the studio below us and out toward the main house. “But you’re going to be okay.” He looked at me, right in the eyes. “You’ll get through it. And if I’ve learned anything about Alex in the year we’ve been working together? It’s that you can totally trust that guy. He’s honest to his very core, Dani. If something were to happen between the two of you? I wouldn’t be telling you you’re too good for him.”
“So, what, he’s too good for me?” I said, a grin on my lips.
“Absolutely,” Isaac said. “But he’s got all kinds of money. If he’s willing to support your fabric habit, I think you ought to grab on and not let go.”
I rolled my eyes and elbowed him in the gut. “I can support my own fabric habit, thank you very much.”
“Right. Which is why you’re living here. Because you’re rolling in all kinds of cash to blow on fabric.”
I scooted back on the bed and grabbed a throw pillow, pulling it onto my lap. “Don’t remind me.”
“Why don’t you try designing on your own, Dani? You know you’re good enough.”
“I don’t know that,” I said. “I’ve never sold a
nything. I love you for saying so, but it’s nearly impossible to break into the fashion industry alone.”
“It’s definitely impossible if you don’t try.”
“I did try. I went to New York—”
“You went to New York because you wanted to work for LeFranc,” Isaac said, cutting me off. “That’s different. You’ve never tried designing on your own.”
I shook my head, my fingers playing with the edging on the pillow in my lap. “It’s more complicated than that.”
Isaac stood. “Nah. It isn’t. You just have to go for it.”
He was at the door before I finally spoke. “Like you?”
He turned back, his hand resting on the door jamb. “I knew what I wanted, Dani. And I knew I wouldn’t find it getting a normal education, working for some cookie-cutter company somewhere.”
My phone buzzed from where I’d dropped it on the dresser, pulling my attention away from Isaac. He crossed the room and grabbed it, tossing it to me before heading back toward the door.
I glanced at the screen long enough to see a text from Chase. His message was brief—he’d only reached out to check on me—so I turned off the screen and dropped the phone face down on my bed. I looked at my brother one more time. “Isaac, thank you. I don’t think I’ve been very fair to you.”
“Well, no,” he said with a grin. “But I don’t always make it easy, do I?”
Late that night, well after midnight, nestled into the covers of my very own beautiful bed, I called Mom. I’d eventually texted, letting her know I’d moved back to Charleston and was staying with Isaac, but I’d spared her all the gory details of what had happened at LeFranc and with Paige’s dress. Now that I’d been home long enough to feel settled, she more than deserved an update.
I caught her in the middle of her early morning walk along the banks of the Rhone in some remote French village. “It’s perfect, Dani. You’d love it here. It’s our favorite place by far.”
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