Chapter Nine
“You had no right to slur your brother.” Alec’s father slammed the newspaper onto the kitchen table, causing his mother to flinch.
Seeing his mom recoil made every muscle in Alec’s body tighten. She deserved better. For her sake, Alec strove to make peace with his father.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to upset you or smear Joe’s memory.” Alec rubbed his forehead. Melissa’s article about his return and A CertainTea had garnered a slew of new reservations for the upcoming grand opening but set him back a step from his personal goals with his family. “I was talking about my perspective. My regrets.”
“Well, add this interview to that growing list,” he scoffed. “This and working for Colby, for chrissakes.”
Working for Colby might be a mistake, but not because of Joe. Alec had relived their recent kiss every ten minutes in the days since it happened. Of course, they’d both pretended to set it aside and move on, but he suspected she hadn’t found that any easier to do than he had. There were feelings there that wanted to be explored.
Too bad timing and truth stood between them. That and Alec’s father, who’d be doubly enraged to learn Alec wanted to get closer to Colby.
“Frank, settle down.” Alec’s mother took her glass to the sink and stared out the window, shoulders rounded. She’d always daydreamed in that spot, although Alec suspected she’d had more waking nightmares than daydreams these past two years. With her back to them, she said, “Stop yelling at Alec.”
“Don’t defend him. Not on this.” His dad pointed at the discarded newspaper even though she wasn’t looking. “There’s no excuse for making Joe look bad when he’s not here to tell his side.”
She whirled around, her finger jabbing the air. “Don’t you keep pushing our son away! You act like you’re the only one who lost something when Joe died. Like you have the right to control how we all deal with making peace with it.” Her voice cracked. “Let me tell you something, Frank. You don’t get to deny Alec the right to talk about his grief. And you don’t get to rain on his chance to reclaim his old life, either.”
When a sob broke through that final statement, she rushed out of the kitchen. In the distance, Alec heard her bedroom door close. He stared at the space she’d vacated, shocked. The pain in her voice had punched his chest harder than any blow his dad’s barbs could land.
“See what you’ve done now?” His father glared at him, paying no attention to his wife’s warning.
Alec could explode from anger. Lord knew he had plenty in reserve. But he wanted a family that functioned, even if it would never be whole again. He couldn’t fix what had broken between his brother and him, but as long as his parents were alive, he had a chance to fix this. He just didn’t know how. Maybe if he acted more like Joe, his father would respect him more.
What would Joe do?
Joe would fight back.
“I’m sorry I upset you, but I didn’t vilify Joe. I just explained what happened with Une Bouchée. I’ve got a shot at recovering from that, and I’m taking it. Mom’s right about one other thing. You aren’t the only one who grieves Joe’s death.” Alec stood and evenly met his father’s furious gaze. Wiping any trace of bitterness from his voice, he said, “We all know he was your favorite. But why keep pushing Mom and me away? Don’t we mean anything to you?”
“Now the melodrama.” His father gruffly waved his hand. “You should’ve pranced around the stage instead of becoming a chef.”
“You spit that out like what I do is pathetic.” The blatant prejudice practically begged Alec’s temper to join the party. “I’m outstanding in my field. And, by the way, my job requires as much stamina and discipline as yours, maybe more. You might know that if you ever bothered to take any interest in what I do.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” His father’s derisive laugh scalded like a steam burn. “You cook, Alec. You don’t save lives. You don’t face danger.”
“Now who’s being ridiculous?” Alec scoffed. “You and Joe faced the ‘mean streets’ of Lake Sandy—shoplifting, petty theft, vandalism. Not exactly Detroit or Baltimore.”
“We weren’t making pastries!” His father’s stupefied expression might have been funny under other circumstances.
Despite his father’s reddened cheeks, Alec remained calm. In fact, they almost egged him on. With a casual shrug, he quipped, “No, just eating them in the patrol car.”
“What?” Outrage turned his dad’s face aubergine.
“You heard me.” Alec forced himself to stand tall. “People worldwide revere chefs like Roger Vergé and Alain Ducasse, yet you disdain them and me. Maybe you’re just too ignorant to appreciate us.”
“You think you’re some hotshot because you lived in Europe. Like the fact you speak French makes you better than me and your brother.” His dad snorted. “Don’t you ever call me ignorant!”
Apparently, his dad’s glass house couldn’t withstand a single pebble. Alec’s insult had shattered another attempt at reason. Maybe one day they’d manage a civil disagreement. Just not today. “Fine. Forget it.”
Alec marched out of the kitchen without looking back, even after he heard a chair crash against something. The multitude of household items held together with superglue or duct tape revealed the inventive ways his father had taken out his frustrations throughout the years. Since it had never escalated to physical abuse, Alec accepted it as his dad’s way of letting off steam. In the wake of Joe’s death, though, that temper had grown less predictable.
When Alec’s mom emerged from her room to investigate the racket, he grabbed her hand and tugged her from the house. “Come for a drive while he cools down.”
She followed him to his car in silence. He shooed Stitch out of the driveway and then drove his mother toward the new gelato shop by the park at the south end of the lake. The sun drew nearer to the horizon now, bathing the sky in striking shades of rose and lilac—a peaceful tableau at complete odds with the chaos on the ground.
Neither he nor his mom spoke for a while. He couldn’t have said much, anyway, thanks to his mental cartwheels. Who’d believe that any family lucky enough to call this picturesque town home could be living under such a cloud of despair? As he whizzed along the south shore, he wondered what ugly secrets other people in this neighborhood hid behind their quaint homes and gardens.
Absently, he also wondered if Joe could see him now. Had Joe had any regrets? Would he have been pissed at Alec for the article and the fight with their dad? Truth was, Alec wasn’t exactly proud of arguing with his father, but he wasn’t exactly sorry, either.
“I’m sorry.” His mother squeezed his hand once they took seats on the park bench overlooking the lake.
“Why are you sorry?”
“I should’ve been a better mother to my sons and not allowed the gap between you to fester.” She scraped the plastic spoon at her gelato without much interest in eating it.
“That had nothing to do with you.”
“I’m your mother, Alec. It’s my job to teach my children right from wrong. To knit a tight family.” Her forehead wrinkled with regret. “I failed.”
“You didn’t fail.” He looked across the lake. “You just drew the short end of the stick when it came to all the men in your life.”
She brushed his bangs from his forehead like she used to do when he was young. “Not with you, sweetheart.”
She only believed that because she didn’t know all his secrets. He slouched lower on the park bench and licked his cone. The explosion of flavor temporarily distracted him, although his pistachio gelato was better.
“Your father’s a hypocrite.” She set her melting dessert aside. “He always resented how his father belittled him, yet he’s done the exact same thing to you.”
“Grandpa wasn’t gruff.” In fact, Alec’s vague memories carried a definite hint of warmth. “He used to read to me and play Legos.”
“He was stoic. An engineer with a sharp head for math. But your father never worked to his potential in school, which bothered his dad to no end. Grandpa scorned your dad’s choices and career as much as your father does yours. Frank never forgave him for that.”
Alec now had a long-missing piece in the puzzle of his existence—a reason for his father’s dislike that went beyond Alec’s failings. Not only must Alec’s academic bent have reminded his dad of his own father, but Alec had also won Grandpa’s affection when his dad could not. That had to have stung, and might explain why Alec’s “ignorance” insult had been so potent.
“I could. Forgive Dad, I mean. Or, I would, anyway, if he’d meet me halfway. We’re already such a small family; we need to stick together.”
“Maybe, if Joe hadn’t died . . .” His mother squeezed his hand. “I can’t live with the gloom much longer. I ache, too, but there are still beautiful adventures ahead if we embrace them, like travel, and grandchildren.”
Her wish for a grandchild floated like a leaf in the breeze, landing silently between them. His mother would be a loving, patient grandmother. If he could hand her that gift now, he would. Instead, he sat there, holding her hand, hoping he could be enough for her.
Together they watched a few young kids and moms packing up their things after a day at the public beach.
“I remember bringing you two down here when you were little.” His mother’s eyes watered as she traveled back in time. “You’d work so diligently, building structures out of this muddy sand, and no matter how many times Joe messed them up when trying to help, you never once got mad. You were so patient with him.”
Alec’s last bite of gelato barely slid past the lump in his throat. His memories of those summer outings were mostly sad because of how things had changed over the years. None of his patience had amounted to much with Joe at the end of the day.
Would his parents’ marriage be another casualty of Alec’s lie and Joe’s stupid jump? So far, he hadn’t done jack shit to improve his family situation. He hadn’t the faintest idea of his next move, either.
Moments like this made him second-guess everything. Rebuilding his reputation would be meaningless in the face of his family’s deterioration. But with Colby . . . the prospect of her affection kept him from throwing in the towel. Of course, even that would be based on a lie.
“I’m glad you stuck with our tradition today. You could use some sun.” Sara elbowed Colby and smiled, then tugged her into yet another jewelry booth.
Every July except the one last summer, they’d attended the annual Sunday Sidewalk Sale in the Pearl. Thousands of people poured into the neighborhood as local shops and restaurants set up tents or tables filled with discounted items. In nearby Jamison Square—a square-block-size urban park bordered by a tree-lined, wood-slatted sidewalk—kids squealed while playing in the expansive water fountain and dancing to the dulcet tones of a local folk band. Idyllic, if it weren’t for her memories.
Last year she couldn’t make herself return to her and Mark’s old neighborhood. Today she forced it, although she’d avoided looking any farther north. Still, recollections kept bursting through her subconscious like pinpricks. These streets held history she couldn’t quite face without feeling a little faint and sweaty.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it earlier.” Colby eyed a bunch of purses hanging in front of one tent, forcing her mind to focus on the here and now. “Brunch didn’t shut down until three.”
They’d packed a full house today. Early success had given her a heady feeling. Almost as heady as finding a dainty crystal bud vase on her desk with a single pink tulip this morning. Alec hadn’t said anything, but she knew he’d done it. A bold move. One that had flustered her into silence. Now she felt silly for not thanking him.
“It’s fine. I shouldn’t shop too long anyhow.” Sara fingered earrings hanging on a jewelry tree, refraining from coddling Colby or pressing her to talk. She didn’t intrude into other people’s personal affairs, instead offering unwavering support in a gentle, silent way. “The restaurant had an excellent first weekend, right?”
“Totally booked, and next week and weekend are booked solid, too. That article sparked a lot of interest.” A proud grin spread. Together, she and Alec just might make A CertainTea the place to eat. He’d said others had lost faith in him, but she couldn’t believe no other restaurant owner wanted him. No. He’d chosen her over others, and, selfishly, she was glad.
“Too bad it also sparked problems for Alec and his dad.” Sara sighed, her gaze continuing to scan the accessories on display.
“It did?” Colby’s grin faded. Alec hadn’t mentioned that when he’d been sending her funny videos and surprising her with her favorite flowers. Maybe it wasn’t her business, but the fact he’d hidden it from her niggled. It also reminded her of how much easier Alec’s life would be if he worked for someone—anyone—else.
“Alec mentioned it to Hunter during one of their cycling workouts this past week.” Sara then raised a silver-and-moonstone necklace for closer inspection before Colby could probe for more information. “They say moonstone helps with fertility. What do you think?”
Sara held the necklace against her breastbone and cocked her head. If moonstone worked, Colby would empty her wallets and drape Sara in the gemstones. Unfortunately, she doubted they’d help more than the failed fertility treatments. “It’s very pretty.”
“Can’t hurt.” Sara’s wan smile tugged at Colby’s heart. At the same time, she admired the way Sara and Hunter faced life and loss together.
While Sara paid for the item, Colby’s thoughts returned to Alec and his father. Alec had thrown himself on Melissa’s sword to keep Colby from having to discuss Mark. If Mr. Morgan gave Alec an ultimatum, would Alec leave A CertainTea and her? She wouldn’t want him to become estranged from his family for her, but she also wouldn’t want him to leave. What did she want?
The memory of their recent kiss rushed back, washing through her, warm and frothy. It did that on a regular basis, like ocean waves rhythmically pounding the shore. But she’d sensed sharks in that surf and yanked herself out.
“Where’d you go?” Sara clutched the little white bag in hand, her brows slightly pinched in concern.
“Nowhere. Just a lot on my mind.” Colby guessed that Sara thought she was thinking about Mark, who’d ended his life mere blocks away. The only other time she’d come back to the Pearl, she’d consciously avoided looking toward Lovejoy Street. When she and Mark had first moved here, they’d been so in love, they’d believed their street name to be a good omen instead of the perverse joke it became.
“I thought you asked Gentry to join us.” Sara hooked arms with Colby as they meandered to the next booth, effectively steering her away from the memory.
“She’s working here with Jake today, so keep an eye out for the hot dog cart.” Colby chuckled. “That’s driving my dad over the edge.”
“Isn’t that her goal? Ooh, Bonnet!” Sara’s attention snagged on that store’s sale tent, so she dragged Colby inside. “I love these hats. Especially this red-and-gray Lady Mary.” Sara placed the cute hat on her head and framed her face with her hands. “See?”
She removed it and then lifted a lovely straw hat with a wide black ribbon and plopped it onto Colby’s head. “You’re definitely a Gigi. So classic.”
Colby swiveled her head to glance in the mirror, then froze. It was a sweet hat, but Mark had always loved her in hats. She expected him to be on her mind today, given that she’d come back to their old stomping grounds, but wished the endless barrage of memories would finally end. Then, now, now, then—love, anger, sorrow, regret, resentment, guilt, horror. Movement reflected in the mirror—of Sara snatching the Lady Mary back from the rack and taking it to the cashier—broke Colby’s runaway train of thought.
While Sara rang up another purchase, Colby returned the Gigi to its shelf and watched the crowd in the street. It parted slightly as people milled around, at which point she caught a glimpse of Gentry.
Her sister’s super-short turquoise-and-black-sequined Betsey Johnson dress with turquoise-and-black leopard-print boots made Gentry’s red hair the least loud thing about her today.
Colby spied on her sister, who bent down to talk to two young girls whose mom was paying Jake for some hot dogs and enormous cookies. After the family strolled away, Jake mumbled something, to which Gentry dismissively waved a hand. Jake shot her a quizzical look, then she giggled as she whispered something in his ear. His hand slid over her hip, and he bit her earlobe.
While witnessing the little intimacy, Colby momentarily envied her sister’s ability to live in the moment—a skill she hadn’t yet reclaimed. More than that, she missed being looked at the way Jake looked at Gentry—with fascination and attraction, like he couldn’t wait to get her alone.
Alec had gazed at Colby that way last weekend when he’d kissed her. She’d spent all week pretending it meant nothing yet fantasizing about how far that passion might have gone had she let it. Imagining the heat of his body against hers. The sound of him moaning her name. The taste of his skin. Those musings gathered in her abdomen and squeezed, making her ache with longing. Making her wonder if his baggage might be worth the heavy lifting.
“Are you cold?” Sara asked when Colby shivered.
“No.”
“Mark?” Sara asked gently.
“No. I found my sister.” Colby pointed across the road, only the slightest bit guilty for dissembling. “Let’s go say hi.”
Sara stopped short. “What’s she wearing in the middle of the day?”
“Something that’s sure to get attention.” Colby couldn’t help but smile.
“There isn’t enough attention in the world to make her happy.” Sara grimaced.
“Hunter and I need to spend more time with her.” Colby sighed. “We might be too late, though.”
Sara shook her head. “It’s never too late for love.”
Colby hoped so. On so many levels, she wanted that to be true.
“Hey, Sis.” She hugged Gentry then smiled at Jake. Even though he’d criticized her restaurant’s food, she’d take the high road for Gentry’s sake. “Let me have one of these famed hot dogs. Just mustard and ketchup, though. No relish or onion.”
“Sure.” Jake went to work. No friendly smile. No apology for the scene he caused in her restaurant. No “Thank you.” Nothing. Jake didn’t appear particularly complicated or encumbered by baggage. Another reason to toss that particular yardstick.
Jake handed Colby a hot dog in exchange for four bucks.
“Looks great, thanks.” In fact, it tasted better than she’d expected, too. Natural casing gave it that snappy texture she liked. Not that he seemed to care one way or the other about her opinion.
“Can you take a break and walk with us for a while?” Sara asked Gentry.
“Nah.” Gentry wrinkled her nose. “It pisses me off to see all this stuff on sale after I paid full price.”
“You could try waiting for things to go on sale,” Colby teased.
“I’m a trendsetter, Sis. Not a follower.” Gentry playfully swept her hand down her body as if to say “Voilà!” Then she ruefully shook her head at Colby’s simple belted black-and-white gingham dress.
Gentry’s disapproving eye didn’t change the fact that Colby was most comfortable in simple, understated dresses.
“What’d you buy, Sara?” Gentry craned her head toward the bags like a heat-seeking missile.
“A hat and a moonstone necklace.” Sara shook her bags. “But, actually, I’ve got to be off already. Hunter and I have plans.”
“Vague.” Colby cocked her head, but Sara stayed mum. Colby guessed they’d planned a “date” of some sort. Her brother worked tremendously long hours, but today was Sunday. Those two made love and marriage look easy. She wished they could teach her, but deep down, she knew she’d have to learn for herself.
“What will you do now?” Sara asked Colby.
“Hit up Powell’s on my way home. I want to pick up 100 Days of Happiness.”
“Sounds like something we could all use. Pass it over to me when you’re done.” Sara kissed her cheek. “Sorry we didn’t get to spend much time together today.”
“No apologies, please. My new work schedule is killing what little social life I had.” Colby shrugged.
“Maybe you should lift that stupid ban and hook up with Alec.” Gentry’s oh-so-casual tone didn’t fool Colby. Her sister never said anything without some agenda. It only surprised her that Gentry now seemed to be pushing Colby toward Alec instead of nabbing him for herself.
Sara’s hot gaze homed in on Colby, too.
“You don’t actually expect a response, do you?” Colby asked them, brushing the suggestion aside as if she hadn’t been obsessing about it since she and Alec had kissed.
Sara and Gentry exchanged a quick glance, then Sara said, “No time to argue about this now, so I’ll see you both later.”
“Give our brother a kiss.” Colby and Gentry waved goodbye to Sara, then Colby turned to her sister. “Any news for me on the social media front?”
“It’s all good. I told you that article would help, and we’ve received a lot of great comments from people who dined over the weekend. We’ve got a dozen five-star reviews on Yelp so far, too.”
“Excellent.” She should tell Gentry about the family backlash Alec endured because of the article as a reminder not to be so careless, but Alec hadn’t shared it with her, so she stayed quiet. “Thank you for keeping on top of that.”
“No probs.” Gentry shifted her weight from one high-heeled boot to the other. Trendsetting looked painful. Selling hot dogs also looked painful—or, rather, painfully boring.
Jake’s impassive expression made Colby want to grab Gentry and head for the hills. “Come with me to Powell’s. We can grab a drink after.”
“Can’t. I promised Jake I’d hang.” Gentry shrugged. “I know everyone in our family thinks I’m a flake, but I’m not.”
“I don’t think you’re a flake.”
Gentry glanced away for a second. “Well, anyway, it’s more fun people-watching than going to a bookstore.” Gentry made a show of shuddering, as if books were akin to the tedium of ice fishing. On second thought, maybe for Gentry, reading was tedious, considering that it required hours of concentration unrelated to selfies.
“Fine. I’ll see you Wednesday morning at the restaurant.” Colby flashed a smile at Jake. “Enjoy the day. Hope it’s lucrative.”
He nodded and gave her a thumbs-up. Oh, boy. He’d better be excellent in bed to make up for his dull personality. Not that one really made up for the other. Obviously, Colby had sex on the brain. Something that hadn’t taken up much space there until recently.
She turned her back on her old neighborhood and strolled toward Powell’s, wishing it were that easy to turn away from her bad memories.
Minutes later, the massive brick bookstore beckoned like an old friend. Entering the venerable labyrinth could be overwhelming to a newcomer. Cement floors covered sixty-eight thousand square feet of space, crowded with endless rows of wooden bookcases containing roughly one million books. Its multiple rooms had color-coded names, like the Coffee Room, where the romance novels were shelved, or the Rose Room for children’s and YA books. Fortunately, Colby had spent enough hours here throughout the years to know her way around without the map.
She found her book and proceeded to the café to grab some tea. To her surprise, she spotted Alec at a table, his attention absorbed by a crossword puzzle.
Seeing him here temporarily disoriented her, as if her constant overthinking things had conjured him.
“Alec, what’re you doing here?” She lived only minutes away, in Eliot Tower, but Alec had driven over from Lake Sandy.
His wide eyes proved him equally stunned to see her.
“Killing time until I check out the competition at Beast.” He closed his puzzle book and smiled. He’d worked such long hours this week, she didn’t know how he managed to stay upright let alone think through a crossword puzzle.
“Sneaky.” She nodded with approval.
“Naomi’s an excellent chef, and I like to be challenged.”
“I know this about you.” She fidgeted with her book.
“Innovation and attention to detail make all the difference.”
Details that went beyond his professional pursuits, like her favorite flowers. Colby smiled, feeling oddly shy. “I meant to thank you for the vase and tulip earlier.”
“You’re welcome.” He held her gaze.
This was only the third time they’d spent time together outside the restaurant since dinner at Hunter’s. The first since the recent kiss. That kiss. She caught herself staring at his mouth. Which quirked. Shoot. Busted.
“What’d you pick?” He peeked at the cover, letting her off the hook. “Hmm. Self-help?”
“No. Fiction. An Italian author wrote a story about a man with an inoperable tumor who’s given one hundred days to live, so he makes a plan to win back his ex and accomplish a bunch of stuff so he can die happy.” It may have sounded morbid to some, although to her the description carried a hopeful note.
“A bucket list on steroids?”
She laughed. “I suppose you could frame it that way.”
They both hesitated, unsure of what to do or say next.
“Where were you before you came here?” he asked.
“At the sidewalk sale with Sara.”
“By Jamison Square?” He raised his brows, looking worried yet impressed. “And where are you off to next?”
“Home.” To her empty condo. To sit alone and read and while away the time until she could go to sleep . . . by herself. And yet, here was Alec. Also alone. Also burying himself in a book to avoid reality, or his father, or both.
Seeing him here with his puzzle book took her back to high school. To the Alec who’d often been alone, whether in his kitchen or the tree house. Who’d almost always been there for her when she’d needed him. Maybe fate brought him here to remind her of that. Before she thought better of it, she asked, “Would you like to come over for a drink or something?”
His eyes went wide and cautious. “Right now?”
“Yes.” A restless feeling rose inside, making her excited and flustered at the same time. What the hell was she thinking? “Well, after I pay for my book.”
“Okay. Sure.” He stood so abruptly that his chair scraped against the cement floor. Offering the others nearby a sheepish grimace, he then followed her to the counter.
Minutes later they were ducking and weaving through the crowded sidewalks, trying to avoid the steady stream of cyclists and homeless along the one-mile walk to her condo. Alec spent the journey sharing his take on the weekend’s receipts, customer feedback, and so on.
Colby couldn’t concentrate on business, though. Not when his cargo pants, soft chambray shirt, and uncharacteristically free expression looked even more appealing than him in his crisp white chef’s coat.
For a blissful moment, she wanted to simply be one of two single adults enjoying a breezy Sunday afternoon with a frisson of attraction sparkling between them. A pair that onlookers might even mistake for a couple. A happy couple.
Lately, the voice that wanted Alec as more than her friend had been drowning out the one advising caution. Who was she to judge Alec’s baggage when she had a cartful of her own?
Perhaps Alec was another chance to force herself out of a comfortably numb existence, like today when she’d survived going back to the Pearl. If she couldn’t make herself trust Alec—someone she’d known most of her life—who could she trust?
“Pretty building.” Alec squinted up at the gleaming glass structure. “Do you have a nice view?”
“No. Second-floor unit.” She’d never again live on a high floor with a balcony. A little shiver danced down her spine, but she made herself look into Alec’s eyes before that final image of Mark could fully materialize. It worked, but the sudden intimacy inside the elevator nearly suffocated her when the doors closed.
Alec shoved his hands in his pockets. That old habit comforted her, actually.
Once inside her apartment, she went to the refrigerator, pulled out an open bottle of sauvignon blanc, and poured two glasses. A quick flick of the remote turned on some mellow music to calm her nerves.
From the kitchen, she watched Alec meander around the living room, studying her photos and gazing out the plate-glass windows. His hand grazed the soft chenille sofa and fingered the bronze sculpture on the sofa table.
She’d decorated A CertainTea much like her own home. Grays, creams, woods, with occasional charcoal. A perfect model unit, yet lacking in the essentials that made a house a home. Not even the pop of lavender pillows and artwork had made a difference. Alec, on the other hand, might.
She crossed to him. With a slightly shaky hand, she handed him a wineglass, blurting, “I want to talk about the kiss.”
Alec’s wineglass halted in midair. “I thought we already did.”
Colby gestured toward the sofa. When he sank into its deep cushions, Colby settled beside him. Although they weren’t touching, his heat and energy warmed her.
“I’ve been thinking.” She gulped some wine for courage, then set her glass on the reclaimed-wood coffee table. “I overreacted. I’ve done that a lot since . . . Mark. I haven’t quite found my balance.”
“You’re still grieving your marriage.” His brows drew together, lending him a guilt-ridden appearance. She didn’t want him to feel guilty about kissing her. In fact, she wanted him to do it again. He stared at her wedding ring. “You witnessed something no one should see. And to lose someone you love that way . . .”
Colby almost confessed the truth about her troubled marriage and the guilt that clung to her like the freshman fifteen. But Mark had never wanted anyone to know. She couldn’t betray his memory now.
“I’m trying to move on. A CertainTea is a good start. But as much as I love the happy diners and sampling all of the amazing things you prepare, it hasn’t helped me here.” She gestured around her home and then settled a hand over her heart. “Or here.”
“You can’t force it, Colby.” He set down his glass and scrubbed his face. “A kiss shouldn’t make you cry.”
She edged closer. “I think it’d been so long since I’d experienced any kind of lust. It shocked me, especially because it was you.”
When he looked away, she realized how that might have sounded.
She reached for his hand. “I only meant that we’ve been friends for so long. It was a little weird, right? I mean, we’ve got this whole platonic history. Surely part of you still thinks of me as the little brat who always chased after you and Hunter. Who bullied you into haircuts, tutoring, and kissing lessons.” She smiled, her mind sifting through a hundred moments from their youth.
“It’s weird, but not for those reasons.” Alec released her hand, stood, and went to the window. Not the response she’d expected. Maybe her indecisiveness all week had pushed him away. “We can’t leave the past behind until we talk about Mark and Joe.”
“Please don’t make me dissect my marriage and everything that led to Mark’s jump. It’s too painful.” The familiar lump wedged in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She closed her eyes for a second to will it away. “Talking about it changes nothing. I’ll simply say that not everything is how you or others may think it was. All I need—all I want now—is to close that door.” She studied Alec’s profile. His jaw clenched while he thought. “Just tell me, are you interested in helping me move forward?”
His thoughts boiled over like a poorly tended stockpot. She didn’t know she was handing him his deepest desire, or that the truth stood between them like an invisible fence poised to deliver a painful shock. “My interest is obvious, isn’t it? But we have to discuss the past. There’s something I haven’t told you.”
“I know.” She looked down then, so she didn’t see the blood drain from his face when his heart stopped.
“You know?” He’d never considered that perhaps Mark had told her about the letter. He couldn’t speak, standing in a sort of frightened fascination about what she’d say next.
“I remember Joe’s funeral, when Mark accused you of having something to do with Joe’s mood on the hike. You two had a fight, right?”
Alec imagined he looked like a carp, the way his mouth opened and closed at least twice before he formed a response. “That’s true, but—”
“But nothing. Brothers fight.” She waved her hand as if one airy stroke could erase all those years and battles. “Whatever happened didn’t push Joe off that cliff.”
He sucked in a breath, his thoughts veering from Mark to his brother, an equally shameful and unpleasant deliberation. “Maybe not literally, but the night before that hike, I not only wanted to hurt him, I reveled in it.”
Colby shifted on the sofa. Her cat-shaped eyes wide yet gentle, waiting. Apparently curious to know more about the ugliness living inside him.
He’d come this far; he might as well finish the story. “Remember Beth?”
“Hard to forget.” Disdain colored her words. “I put her in the same class as Gentry’s current guy, Jake. Neither is particularly kind or caring.”
“I don’t know Jake, but you’re right about Beth.”
She tipped her head in question. “Did you share that opinion with Joe?”
“No.” Her thermostat mustn’t have been working right, because the room temperature spiked. Alec paced as the memory replayed, as vivid and 3-D as the night it happened. “She showed up drunk at my place that night. Said she and Joe had been fighting. Begged me to let her in to talk. I made a pot of coffee and offered platitudes about how Joe cared about her and she should go work things out with him. Then she excused herself for a minute.”
He remembered her stumbling in her heels and feeling her way along the wall back toward his bathroom. “Honestly, I thought she went to throw up, but then she came back stripped down to her underwear. Started touching me, telling me how much she admired my success. How I was the ‘impressive’ brother. I was trying to get out of the situation when Joe pounded on my door. Apparently, he’d tracked her down using some mobile app. He walked in before she put her clothes back on, then jumped to a bunch of conclusions.”
Alec hadn’t stopped turning in circles. His thoughts were so steeped in the memory of Joe’s reaction to finding Beth there half-naked, that when Alec did finally look up, he was shocked not to see Joe standing in front of him, fist balled, face red and sweaty.
“I can see why Beth should feel bad,” Colby began, “but you didn’t do anything wrong.”
With shame on his mind, he met Colby’s gaze. “I did. Joe started in on me, called Beth a loser and so on. After years of tolerating all the put-downs—of taking the high road, even when he didn’t deserve it—I snapped. I let him believe that I’d been with Beth. I was an ass, but in the heat of the moment, I thought I’d earned the right to hurt him . . . or he’d earned it, however you want to look at it. I woke up planning to tell the truth, but he’d taken off with Mark up to the falls, and then it was too late.”
Wilting onto the sofa, he buried his face in his hands. He’d hoped to feel better after making that confession, but right now he couldn’t settle his stomach.
Colby bumped her knee against his. “Not your finest moment, but not unforgivable, either. Maybe you were an ass, but not an unforgivable one. Your fight didn’t make Joe take Mark’s dare.”
“I think it did.” He remembered the wounded pride on his brother’s face. “The idea that his girlfriend cheated on him with me, a guy he considered so beneath him, shattered his ego. I’m sure he hiked to the falls full of piss and vinegar. Mark’s dare gave him a chance to reclaim his manhood. If he hadn’t been reeling from shock, he probably wouldn’t have been so rash.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. What-ifs will drive you crazy. Joe’s ego is on him, not you. Trust me. I’m sorry your last conversation with Joe went so horribly, but you loved him your whole life, and he knew that. We both need to let go of whatever we wish we’d done differently.” She blinked, as if she’d revealed too much. “Alec, our history is complicated. I get that. But I can’t keep hiding from life, either. It feels like I’m on the brink of something new and exciting. Maybe we’ll find our way forward together, but not if we keep looking back.”
“It’s not about looking back, it’s about confronting mistakes. We have to talk about Mark’s suicide.”
“Why? Why make me talk about that when I work so hard every day not to remember? It took eighteen months to sleep through the night without nightmares.” Her eyes glistened as her expression tightened. “I still can’t always shut out that final image of him when it wants to surface. But I’m tired of everything in my life being defined by what happened with Mark. All I want is to stop thinking about him. Please, Alec. Please don’t keep bringing him up.”
She tugged the wedding band off her finger and tossed it on the coffee table. They both stared at it while she wiped a tear from her cheek.
Shaken by her breakdown, he paused. Ignoring the past wasn’t healthy, but maybe it wasn’t his choice to make. She’d handed him an out. One that enabled him to stick to his original plan to do anything he could to secure her happiness. If that required him to keep his mouth shut about Mark, at least he’d be loving her the way she asked to be loved.
“Okay.”
Even teary she looked beautiful. “Thank you.”
Now what? Neither of them knew the first thing about taking steps forward. They sat together in awkward silence until she interlaced her fingers with his—her hand soft and warm in his large, scarred one. Only then did the impact of the situation fully register. He was holding hands with Colby, talking about the future. Their future.
His heart beat out her name like a favorite song. He wanted to make love to her more than almost anything. But the ring she’d thrown on the table like some eerie gauntlet warned him to exercise patience. Her pushing herself to be ready wasn’t the same as her actually being ready.
His thoughts strayed, searching for some kind of redemption for his secret. A few minutes passed before he said, “I have an idea.”
“Oh?” She shot him a flirtatious look. Honestly, he couldn’t get used to that. He stared at her, savoring the fact that she liked him.
Collecting himself, he said, “Let’s do something to honor Joe and Mark.”
She straightened, eyes alert. “Like what?”
“Maybe host a fund-raiser at A CertainTea in their names to raise money for some cause?” He shrugged, assuming the idea would appeal to her.
“I love that idea.” Her perfect little nose flared. “We could start a memorial fund.”
“A fund is even better.” He pulled her against his side, offering his shoulder as a pillow. Alec’s father would hate having Mark’s name tied to Joe’s. Truthfully, Alec didn’t love the idea, either, but he owed it to Mark, and to Colby. “We’ll have to think of a good cause. Do you still make gift baskets and deliver them to the children’s hospital?”
“Sometimes, but we should think bigger.”
“Whatever you want.” He’d made a promise to see her happy, and he would. He’d worry about his dad’s reaction to all of this later.