“I am, too.” I muster my most confident, breezy smile—as though him standing this close to me doesn’t throw me totally off my game. Which it so does.
Seth who?
My hands still gripping the photograph, Alex says, “Shall I take this one?”
Immediately, I let go of the frame. “Sure, yes. Good idea.” Heat rushes to my face. I turn away quickly, hoping he doesn’t see, and busy myself with the next box. It’s the final one, and as I pull out the first photograph I read the number on the back and say, “Could you grab my notebook and check where number forty-three should go? It’s there, on the stack of empty boxes.”
He picks it up and flips it over to look at the cover. “You’re into puppies, huh?” He holds the notebook up and flashes the image of the cute Labrador puppy at me.
I flush slightly. Sure, it’s a little embarrassing to carry around the sort of notebook I might have had when I was nine, but it’s not a crime. “I’ve always wanted one, actually. A golden Lab and a horse.”
“Well, you should make sure you get both someday.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Where’s your plan again?” he asks as he begins to flip through the pages.
“It’s the last entry, so right at the back.” I hold up a photo of an elderly man with a wizened face standing by an old, crumbling, orate building. “You know what? Looking at this right now, we might need to rethink the plan. This one should definitely be enlarged. I mean, I know we’ve already made the call to go with the one of the temple with the tree for this group, but this one could really pop.” I turn around to see him studying my notebook. “Don’t you think?” When he doesn’t reply, I snap, “Alex? Are you listening to me?”
Slowly, he looks up, his lips doing that sexy twitching that they do. Uh-oh. This can’t be good.
“What’s this?” He holds the page titled “Alex: Boundaries” up in his hand.
My heart begins to thud. He’s seen it. He’s seen my list.
The look on his face tells me he knows. He knows I’ve got feelings for him. He knows I’ve been struggling to contain them. What was I thinking. writing them down on the same notebook with the gallery plan? Epic fail, Darcy, epic fail.
I dash across the floor to grab the notebook from him, but he holds it up in the air. He’s got a good four or five inches on me, so I can’t reach it, even when I stand on my tippy toes. “Alex, give me my notebook.”
“‘No smoldering,’” he reads, then looks down at me, his eyes shining. Oh, he is so enjoying this. “Is that me doing the smoldering or is it you? It’s not clear from this boundaries list.”
I clamp my teeth together, my insides twisting. My face feels so hot, I know my cheeks must be the color of a ripe tomato by now. I reach for the notebook once more, but he’s still holding it too high. “My notebook, please.”
“And what’s this?” he says, completely ignoring my polite request. “‘Mention Seth a lot.’ Did you think I’d be especially interested in Seth? Because I can tell you right now, I’m not.”
Humiliation floods every part of me. I reach up once more to try to grab the notebook from him, but he moves it to his other hand, and instead, I look like I’m trying in vain to swat flies. “Alex!” I say, shocked my voice comes out wobbly. “That’s enough.”
His eyes land on mine, and his expression instantly changes. He lowers the notebook, closes it, and holds it out for me. I try to take it from him, but he doesn’t let go. “Shame about number two.”
Number two on the list flashes before my eyes. No kissing.
I pull the notebook from his grasp and clutch it to my chest. All I can manage is a nod, my heart thudding like a cannon, my cheeks so hot with embarrassment, you could scramble eggs on them. I swallow and tear my eyes from his. “You weren’t meant to see that.”
“I’m glad I did,” he replies, his voice soft. “You see, what it tells me is that I’ve been on your mind. So much so, you’ve had to write a list of ways to avoid how you feel about me. You see, the thing is, Darcy, I’ve been thinking about you a lot, too. That kiss—”
With a burst of bravery, I stand tall. “I don’t want it to happen again.”
He nods at the notebook in my hands. “Is that why you’ve got a list of boundaries? Because you don’t want to kiss me again?”
I lift my chin. “Because I’m seeing someone else.”
His lips curve into a small smile. “Someone called Seth. Point three on the list.”
“Yes. Seth is sweet and kind and not a jerk. All the things you are not.” I think of the girl in the photo I saw at his place, and of his poor, broken heart, and add, “To me, anyway.”
He scrunches up his face. “I’m not not a jerk?”
I raise my head and give him a superior look. “Yes. A double negative makes a positive.”
He has the audacity to laugh. “That’s all very well, Ms. English Teacher, but does that make me a jerk or not a jerk. I’m still unclear.”
“Are you always this frustrating?” I ask in exasperation.
“Only with you.”
The memory of our kiss rushes at me like a charging bull. No. I won’t go there. Boundaries! Boundaries!
The amused look on his face tells me he’s fully aware of my internal struggle right now. “Darcy? Can I ask you something?” I give a reluctant nod, my notebook still clasped to my chest as though I need to keep it warm for fear it could die. “Why do you think I’m a jerk?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. It’s a genuine question.” He places his hand over his chest. “From the heart.”
“But . . . but you know why.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t.”
I blink at him. Seriously? He can’t remember what he did? Did I mean that little to him that I could be completely forgotten? I drop my notebook from my chest and turn away from him. My mind is bumbling around like a puppy on caffeine. I’ve been carrying around this hurt for all these years, hating him for it, and he doesn’t even remember doing it?
I feel his hand reach out and touch my shoulder and I instantly tense. “Darcy, if there’s something I’ve done, or not done, just tell me. I’ve been trying to work it out ever since I got back to this country.”
My anger flares as I round on him. “You really don’t remember?” I ask in disbelief.
“Look, if you tell me what it is, who knows? Maybe I can fix it.”
I lock my jaw and stare at him. “High school. I was fourteen. You kissed me at that ice cream parlor and then took off with Cora Huntington. Any of that ring a bell for you?”
Realization dawns on his face. “That? You hate me because of that? Darcy, it was one kiss a million years ago.”
I cross my arms and glare at him. “I wanted to I mean something to you, and you . . . you hurt me.” I’m mortified to feel tears sting my eyes. I hurriedly blink them away as I raise my chin boldly.
He lets out a puff of air. “Darcy, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize it was such a big deal to you. If I’d known it would hurt you this much, I wouldn’t have kissed you, even if you did look as pretty as you did that day.”
“It was more that you told me after you wanted a woman, not some girl.”
He scrunches his eyes closed. “Geez, I was such a dick.”
“Yes, you were.”
He studies me for a moment. “Darcy, I get that it upset you, and for that I am truly sorry. You’ve got to believe me that I had no clue I’d hurt you like this. I was a dumb teenage kid. I’m not that person anymore.”
I chew on my lip. “You know what? Nothing you say can ever undo it.” I turn my back to him as I struggle to control the emotions swirling around inside. He may have apologized, but I’ve carried this thing around for so long now, I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of my hatred for him.
Without it, what have I got?
A voice inside of me tells me what I’ve got left is a guy I’m crazy about.
But I’m not ready t
o admit that to anyone.
Especially not Alex.
Chapter 18
We’ve been working hard, and there is only a handful of boxes left to unpack. It’s been a weird afternoon. I’ve gone from trying to hold a brick wall up around myself, to baring my deepest hurt to the guy who caused it, to hearing him say he’s sorry.
Since then, we’ve been working side by side in an almost companionable way. Sure, I still need those boundaries in my four-point manifesto—the guy’s smolder is like a lethal weapon, I tell you—but that feeling of anger, of hatred for him, has all but left the room. And now, it’s easier. Nice, even.
“Last box,” I announce.
He smiles at me from across the room. “Great.”
I push back the flaps on one of the boxes and pull out a photograph. I unwrap it and turn it over to check it and my heart squeezes as I take in the image of a beautiful woman, her head back, her hair pooled on the mat behind her. How did this get in here?
“Oh, no,” I mutter before I can stop myself.
“What is it?” Alex wanders over to me, and I hastily stuff the photograph back into its bubble wrap.
“Oh, it’s a damaged frame. So annoying.” I roll my eyes to show just how annoying that would be. “I’ll take it and get it re-framed by the supplier.”
His hand is extended, palm up. “Come on, hand it over.”
I put the offending photograph behind my back and shake my head. “No. I . . . I can’t.”
He takes a step closer to me. “I’m sure whatever it is it’s not a big deal,” he says lightly.
I shake my head as I press my lips together. Once again, he’s getting too close for comfort, but this time it’s different. This time, when he sees the photograph in my hands, the easy, relaxed vibe we’ve finally been able to achieve will be completely shattered.
The edges of his lips curve into an easy smile. “If you don’t hand it over, I’ll have to do something drastic.”
My heart thuds as I ask breathlessly, “What would you have to do?”
“I’d have to tickle you,” he says in a matter-of-fact way, as though it’s the only logical choice.
Tickle me? I blink at him. How old does he think I am? Five? I shake my head again, although I’m not at all committed to it.
He takes another step closer to me, and I make a snap decision: get tickled (read: get well and truly kissed and all boundaries demolished) or hand over the photograph.
Sanity wins.
Although I know he’s not going to like what he sees, I pull the photo from behind my back and pass it to him. I hold my breath.
“Thank you,” he says with a smile as he takes it from me. “Although, I had kinda hoped you’d go for the tickle.” He flips it over in his hands and pulls off the bubble wrap then studies the photograph.
I watch his expression drop. My insides twist. “I don’t know how it got in there, Alex. I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush. “If you give it back to me, I’ll deal with it.”
He doesn’t reply. Instead, all he does is stand still, looking down at the photograph for what feels like an absolute eternity.
I fill the tense silence. “It must have been on the file you sent to us.” I chew on my lip and wait for him to say something. I reach my hand out to take the photograph. “Alex, I’ll get it sorted out.”
“Here.” He thrusts it at me, and I take it with both hands. He turns away, taking a few short strides to the door. He pauses, his hand on the door handle.
I don’t say a word. My heart is breaking for him. Whoever the girl is in the photograph, she did a real number on the poor guy.
His shoulders slump. He turns to look at me and gestures at a spot by the wall with no photographs leaning up against it. “Wanna sit for a while?”
“Sure.”
We lower ourselves onto the hard, cool polished concrete floor. Sitting side by side, feeling about as comfortable as a hippo in Spandex, I wait for him to talk.
Eventually, he begins as he stares ahead of himself, his head resting against the wall behind him. “She’s the reason I’m back here in New Zealand.”
“The girl in the photo?” I ask softly.
He nods. “I knew her when I was in India. I took that photo and probably thousands more of her where she lived in Jaipur.”
“Jaipur’s a city in Rajasthan.”
His eyes flick to mine, and a brief smile passes across his face. “You’ve been paying attention.”
As we’ve worked, Alex has told me a lot about his time in India, from the temples to the food to the majestic mountains. He’s never mentioned her.
I smile back at him, but it’s too late. His own whisper of a smile is gone. “I try. What’s her name?” I ask.
He presses his lips together. “Chetana.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“Yeah. It means ‘to be perceptive and conscious.’”
“Chetana. I’ll have to tell Larissa. She’ll love that.”
He harrumphs, but I can tell it’s kindly.
When he doesn’t volunteer any more about her, I ask, “What happened?” Then I add, “If you want to tell me, that is. No pressure.”
He rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands and then says, “It’s fine. I can tell you. We’ve been busting through boundaries lately, right?” His eyes sweep to mine and hold my gaze for a beat.
“True,” I reply with a small smile. “Was Chetana your girlfriend?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
He lets out a short, sharp laugh that takes me totally by surprise, and I nearly jump back up onto my feet. Luckily, I don’t because that would be very inappropriate right now.
“Should I take that as a no?”
He lets out a puff of air. “I worked for her father, Adarsh.”
“Is he a photographer, too?”
“He’s a businessman. Very successful. He owns half of Rajasthan—and made sure I knew it, too.”
“Is that how you met her, through her dad?”
He nods. “He saw some of my work in a gallery and asked to meet me. He wanted some family portraits done. I don’t usually do that kind of work, but Adarsh was the kind of man you didn’t say no to.” He pauses and then adds, “With Chetana, it was an instant thing, you know? Like, somehow, we both knew the moment we laid eyes on one another.”
Love at first sight.
He shakes his head and looks down at his hands. “When her dad found out about us, he fired me and told me he never wanted to lay eyes on me again. I wanted to stay, to fight for her, but . . . she told me to leave.”
He told her he was going to fight for her and she told him not to? My heart has well and truly broken for him now. “Oh, Alex. That sounds so awful.” Tentatively, I place my hand on his arm.
He gives a shrug and turns to look at me, his eyes intense. “What can I do? It is what it is.”
“That’s very philosophical of you.”
“Yeah.” He rubs his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Did you love her?” I know it’s a deeply personal question, but he asked me to sit with him. And besides, I’m intrigued.
“Whatever I did or didn’t feel for her, it’s over. Done.”
Well, that clears that up.
I look down at my hand, which is still on his arm. Suddenly feeling awkward, I remove it. “I’m sorry, Alex. It sounds terrible,” I say. It sounds woefully inadequate, considering his tragic story, but I don’t know what else to say.
“It was terrible. You’re totally right. But you know what?” He turns to look at me. “It’s in the past now, and even if I wanted to, there’s nothing I could do about it. And anyway, I’m back here in Auckland, and I’ve got an exhibition to prepare for.”
“Onwards and upwards?” I offer tentatively.
He nods, his face still grim, although I can tell he’s trying to be brave about it all. “Onwards and upwards.” He hops onto his feet and offers me his hand. I take it, and we stand together f
or a moment in silence, our hands clasped. “I guess we’ve both bared a little piece of our souls to one another today, haven’t we, Darcy?”
I nod, and we share a small smile.
Something has shifted between us. It feels more, well, comfortable to be with him, like we’re a couple of friends, working on a project together, sharing our stories, creating a relationship. The thought is nothing short of staggering.
Me? Friends with Alex?
“Alex?” I ask. “Are you doing okay?”
He loosens his jaw for the first time since we sat down together. “Yeah. I am.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “Thanks, Darcy.”
“Hey, what are friends for?” I reply breezily.
“Is that what we are?”
My heart hammers as I breathe, “If you want us to be.”
He squeezes my hand once more before he drops it. “I do.”
“Well, I guess that’s settled then.”
As he returns his attention to the photographs, I stand and watch him for a moment. Friends. That’s what he wants us to be. Friends. Because although he liked our kiss, he’s still in love with someone else.
I twist my mouth as I watch him hold a photograph up against the wall. It turns out I didn’t need my four-point manifesto after all. Just like our first kiss all those years ago, the only person truly invested in us, with any real feelings, is me.
I guess, when it comes to Alex, I’m still that eager, stupid fourteen-year-old girl with a desperate crush. And he’s still the guy who’s barely even noticed me.
Chapter 19
“Are we there yet?” Jason says for about the millionth time since we left the city, right before he, Sophie, and Erin break into a fresh wave of laughter. Again.
“Very funny, guys. That’s not getting old in the slightest,” I say from the driver’s seat. I shoot them a stern look in the rearview mirror. It has zero effect.
“I’m glad to hear it, Darce, because you know what?” Erin says, barely keeping the laughter from her voice. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Let me guess. Could it be ‘are we there yet?’ by any chance?” I deadpan.
“How’d you know?” Erin replies, and they all laugh at their silly joke once more.
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