by Heather B. Moore, Kaylee Baldwin, Annette Lyon, Jennifer Moore, Shannon Guymon, Sarah M. Eden
Now, as soon as she felt the warmth and weight of his arm, she turned to look at him, wondering what the gesture meant all these years later. He returned her gaze, seeming to study her eyes. For several seconds, neither of them said a word— and Alex couldn’t breathe.
That is definitely not a buddy look. The thought sent her emotions into the twists and turns of a roller coaster.
What was she doing? She still hadn’t done what she’d come to California to do. And it’s not like this could turn into anything; she lived hundreds of miles away. Spending the day with some guy, even if he turned out to be a friend from her vulnerable adolescence, couldn’t be a good idea.
She opened her mouth to speak, to put a voice to her doubts, to let him know that she would be heading home to Phoenix the day after tomorrow, likely to never return to the L.A. area, that—
But before she could say a word, he’d pressed his lips to hers. His other arm reached around her, and she couldn’t help but melt into his embrace as she kissed him back. At camp, their kisses had been unsure, shy. This kiss eclipsed those ones in every way.
We’ve both grown up in this area too.
They didn’t pull apart until the cab rolled to a stop and the cabbie cleared his throat loudly. “Uh, here we are.”
They flew apart, and Alex flushed, feeling conspicuous and not a little sheepish at being caught making out in the back of a taxi— but not the least regretful over it. To her relief, Michael just grinned. He didn’t seem to regret it either— and may have enjoyed it as much as she had.
After he paid the tab, they headed for the front door of the company. Michael was the first to speak. “If you aren’t sick of me yet, I know this Italian place down by Venice Beach that’s to die for. I could take you there for dinner.”
“Sounds great,” Alex said. Venice Beach meant nothing to her; she had no idea how close it was to Santa Monica Pier or anywhere else in the L.A. area. Jason hadn’t ever said specifically where along the Pacific Coast his ashes should be spread. He’d been to Santa Monica before and had talked about how beautiful it was, so she’d just always planned to spread his ashes there.
Thoughts of Jason sent her heart yelling at her to put a stop to this day before either she or Michael did something to regret. Instead, she said, “I imagine their bread is fattening.”
“Oh, man, yes. They’re called Killer Garlic Rolls for good reason,” Michael said, holding the door to the tow shop open for her. “You have to pace yourself. You could easily eat a thousand calories before the entrée ever shows up. Not that I speak from experience. At least, not from recent experience.”
She loved how he admitted to slipping at times. In spite of appearances, he was still, in fact, human. As he went to the counter to pay the fee, Alex’s phone vibrated with an incoming text. She checked it, hoping to find nothing from Charlotte or from Madeleine Kendall.
Only a text from Becca— relief. Alex opened it.
Delivered the flowers. Saw J’s parents parking as I left. Don’t think they saw me. Hopefully they’ll think you left them.
Below the text was a photo of a pretty arrangement of purple daisies beside the stone marker with Jason’s birth and death dates. Alex stared at the small dash, knowing it represented everything that had happened between those dates— it represented his entire life. Part of her life, too. All boiled down to a little straight line.
She reread the text, hoping Becca was right, that after seeing the flowers, the Kendalls would assume they’d missed Alex’s personal visit. That would give them one less reason to hate her. They wouldn’t understand why she hadn’t come today, that she’d flown to the coast for their son. Just as they didn’t understand why Jason hadn’t wanted to be embalmed and buried.
They still hated her for supposedly “seducing” their son— a belief they clung to because they couldn’t accept the idea that he’d wanted to leave them and that he’d proposed to her. The whole thing had been his idea. As much as they loathed having a daughter-in-law, they’d been doubly shocked when Alex hadn’t taken his name. But that was also Jason’s idea. Knowing that they wouldn’t be together for long, he’d insisted she keep her maiden name as a way of making sure that when he passed, she would really be free.
That she wasn’t a possession— not his, not his parents’. She was her own person, capable of making her own decisions. One of many gifts Jason had given her.
But inability to understand the other side didn’t lie only with the Kendalls. Maybe one day she’d understand why they put up a marker when nothing of their son was buried below it. Maybe you had to be a parent to understand that one.
“Al?” Michael said, turning from the teller. The transaction had either gone awfully quickly, or she’d been staring at her phone for a really long time.
She blinked and looked away from the screen. “Oh, um...” She shook her head, trying to clear it of the images of her former in-laws and the flowers and the cemetery. She couldn’t think of anything to say except, “That went fast.”
Michael squinted in confusion. “You okay?” He went to her side, brows furrowed with concern, and read the text over her shoulder. She didn’t mind. In fact, she was kind of glad he’d find out this way so she wouldn’t have to find a way to tell him everything.
“Who was... J?” He looked at her phone again, at the photo of the flowers and the marker. “James C. Kendall,” he read aloud. “Wow. He was young.” He looked over, a question on his face.
So much for this being the easy way. Of course a text and a simple photo didn’t tell the whole story. Yet how did you tell someone— someone like Michael, no less— that you’d been widowed? She wasn’t ashamed of Jason, or of their brief marriage. But the whole thing was just so emotional, and complicated, and...
“Jason was, um...”
“Never mind. It’s none of my business.” Michael waved off the question. “Let’s go.”
Crap. She could feel him putting both a physical and an emotional distance between them. He turned toward the door, and she hurried after him, wanting to explain, but not in front of the cashier. When she got outside, Michael was already heading for the corner, where the teller had said they’d have to walk around to reach the huge metal gate to reach the car.
“Mikey, wait.”
At hearing his old nickname, he slowed his step and then stopped. He cocked his head to the side but didn’t quite turn around.
Alex ran to catch up. She wanted to take his hand but clasped her own anxiously instead. “Jason... was my husband. He died of cancer almost four years ago. We were young, only eighteen. He knew he was dying, and... Some people think I married him out of pity, but it wasn’t like that at all. I wasn’t in love with him, but I loved him very much. He was my best friend.”
Michael’s face softened, showing concern and understanding, both of which gave Alex the courage to go on.
“We both had hard backgrounds. He had the money to support us, and, well, it felt like the right thing to do.” She watched cars pass by, letting her mind drift so she could avoid thinking about how Michael hadn’t taken his eyes off her since she started telling the story. She struggled as she went on. “I helped Jason have some happy months before he died. And he helped me too.” She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling a chill in the spring air. “See, we were married... five years ago... today.”
At Michael’s widened eyes, she hurried on.
“We weren’t stupid teens; I swear. We weren’t poor kids living in his parents’ basement or anything. He’d made money as a developer, and he wanted me to have it so I could start my own business.”
“And you did, didn’t you?” he asked, with a tone full of trust and confidence.
“Yeah, I did. And it’s doing really well. But that’s why his parents think I’m a gold digger and why they pretty much hate my guts.” She shrugged. “They blame me for creating a rift between them and their son, but the truth is, they created the rift long before I met Jason.” She s
hrugged. “He wanted an escape— and some happiness— before he died.”
“Wow.” Michael put out a hand, she took it, and they slowly walked to the back of the lot. “You came to California on your anniversary,” he said with wonder in his voice. “Did the beach have some special meaning for you as a couple?”
“No.” Her free hand brushed her purse and felt the shape of the jar inside. “To him, the ocean meant freedom and joy. He visited the beach once when he was a kid, and he said that was the place he felt most free and alive. He asked me to release his ashes into the largest ocean in the world on our fifth anniversary. And then he’d be free forever.”
“That’s...” Michael said, seeming to struggle with words. “It’s just... beautiful.”
“You don’t think it’s... weird? Or that I’m taking the last piece of him away from his parents?”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I think it’s awesome. Besides, it gave you a much better reason for being at the pier today than I had.” He squeezed her hand.
She grinned at both the action and his words— and at the unspoken invitation to ask the obvious. “So why were you at the beach today— in a suit?”
He tilted his head one way and then the other, considering. “Let’s get the car. I’ll tell you as we drive.”
Chapter Six
Ten minutes later, inside the Mustang and with several miles behind them, Michael finished telling the bare bones of his story.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Alex said.
He looked over and smiled. “You know, it’s okay. She wasn’t the one.”
Oddly, Michael hadn’t found talking about Rachel to be hard. Maybe Nate hadn’t been entirely off his rocker, although there was no way Nate could have known that Michael would run into Alex there— the Al, the one person on the planet who could pull him out of this funk.
He asked questions about Jason, her company, her dreams, how long her trip would be. In return, she asked about his job as a music producer and so much else that had happened since their summer together.
He told her how he’d tried to find her online after camp— several times— but failed, likely because he hadn’t remembered her full name, he only now realized. And he’d misspelled her last name, too. He’d searched for Al Davies and variations— Alex, Alexandra, Lexi, but he had the last name wrong. And he’d forgotten about the last I, which gave her name one extra syllable: Alexandria.
They reached C & O Trattoria, the Italian restaurant he’d told her about. He purposely hadn’t mentioned how the place was open air— no roof— or about how the adobe-style walls were hand painted. How at night, tall burners throughout the restaurant kept the ambiance warm and enjoyable. He hoped she’d join in when the servers came in to sing “That’s Amore.” The lyrics were on the back of the menu, so anyone could sing along, and when they did, the whole restaurant felt like a group of old friends.
He suspected she wasn’t hungry yet, but he had an idea for something to do before dinner.
The sun dipped below the horizon as he pulled into a parking stall in front of the restaurant’s green awning. As he killed the engine, Alex had her eyes focused down the street, on the sunset in the distance, a pensive look on her face. Michael looked the other way down the street, at C & O Trattoria, back at the sunset, then back at Alex.
His stomach rumbled with anticipation of the best fettuccine alfredo he’d ever had, even though the crêpes couldn’t have been long ago. He checked his watch and realized that they’d parked at the grocery store almost three hours ago— almost long enough to justify eating again already.
But Alex had a far-off look in her eyes, and he knew why. He’d mentioned Venice Beach being nearby, and while it wasn’t as nice as Santa Monica, it was still the Pacific Ocean. Alex still had a job to do today, and he wanted to be sure she got it done before the sun fully set on her anniversary.
“Want to walk down to the beach?” he ventured.
She blinked as if the action clipped her thoughts. She looked apologetic as she nodded. “Would you mind? I really need to—”
“I know.” And he did. Nate was on to something about finding closure. Of course, stumbling upon your crush from the best summer of your life certainly helped. He jerked his head the direction of the beach. “Let’s go.”
He got out of the car and took his suitcoat with them; the evening air was getting a bit chilly. With the jacket over his arm, he opened her door. Then, hand in hand, they walked to the beach, neither saying much. Alex shivered at the cooling evening, so Michael stopped and put his suitcoat around her shoulders.
She pulled it close with one hand and smiled, flushing. “Thanks.”
With the water just coming into view, Michael couldn’t help but think that reconnecting with Al— Alex— after so long couldn’t be a coincidence. Yet she didn’t live here. She’d be heading back to her life in Arizona soon.
They reached the sand, where Michael walked at her side for some time, but then, as they drew closer to the shore, he instinctively released her hand. She looked over with a question in her eyes. He nodded toward the ocean. “This part’s not for me. Go. Set him free.”
A wide smile broke over her face, sending warmth through Michael as if he’d been injected with it. She slipped off her flip flops and pulled a jar out of her purse— Jason’s ashes. She walked out farther, her figure silhouetted against the fading orange-gold of the sun. Only when she stood ankle-deep in the water did she open the jar. And then she paused. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he imagined that she was communing with Jason one last time. With her free hand, she pulled her long skirt up a few inches, then took a few more steps into the water— almost to her knees— then flung the ashes in a wide arc and stepped back, watching the ocean disperse them and take them away. She stood there for a moment longer, watching the ashes in the water.
Then, with quick steps, almost running, Alex returned to him. Sand stuck to her wet feet, and she still held the now-damp bottom of her skirt in one hand. “I did it,” she said, breathing heavily. A yellow halo from the sun glowed behind her. She put the jar back into her purse, then took both of his hands in hers, reaching up for a kiss— the last thing he expected in that moment, but one he was happy to indulge in. Fettuccine could wait.
After a nice, slow kiss, she pulled back, smiling broadly, and picked up her flip flops in one hand. “Let’s go.”
As they walked back the way they’d come, their feet seemed to eat the distance far faster than when they’d gone the other direction. Michael checked his watch and was startled to see how fast the time had gone. The day had completely flown past; before he knew it, they’d be saying goodbye for the evening, one day closer to her flying home and away from his life again, and—
No.
“So,” he said, trying to sound casual but knowing he was failing. “Are you based in Arizona for a reason?” An urgency to find a way to hang on to Alex, to test these new waters, to see if they had a future, burned inside his chest. He clung to the fact that Mikey and Al were together again— not a coincidence. “I mean, is Phoenix a hub for the fashion industry or something?”
Alex chuckled at that. “Hardly.” She began swinging their hands as if being together was completely natural, as if they’d always been together. “I grew up in Arizona, that’s all. It’s the only state I’ve ever lived in.”
“So you have a lot of ties there.”
“Just my sister. But she’s married now and lives in Tucson, which is a bit farther away. We don’t see each other as often as we used to. Besides, her husband joined the Air Force, so they’ll probably be hopping all over the world soon.”
“Interesting.”
She nudged him with her elbow. “What?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I can’t help but think that if nothing is keeping you there, then...”
Her step slowed, and she stopped, facing him. She took his other hand too. “Then... what?” Pink had returned to her cheeks like twin rosebuds�
�� like they used to so long ago when she grew emotional. A good sign?
“Then maybe you could move here.” Michael ran his thumbs over the tops of her hands. So soft. “We found each other again after all these years. You’re free. I’m free. It’s like fate expects us to...” But he couldn’t quite get the words out.
“Give it a shot?” she finished, stepping closer. She pressed her hands to his chest and smoothed his shirt with her fingers.
Goose bumps broke out all over his arms. He nodded dumbly, then managed, “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, then tried again. “And maybe you’ll find even more business out here. L.A. probably has a slightly bigger fashion scene than Phoenix.”
“But the cost of living is astronomical, and—” Her words cut off as if she couldn’t find another argument.
“Being here could lead to huge company growth. It could be a very good career move.” As if that were the reason he’d brought up the idea. The truth was, careers and money didn’t matter; those things could work themselves out.
She lifted her face to his, seeming to study every feature. Now it was his turn to feel heat creeping up his neck. When she spoke next, her voice had lowered to almost a whisper and was full of emotion, “Maybe I will move west. But if I do, it won’t be for my career.”
“It wouldn’t?” His voice turned into a whisper too. His throat started to tighten as hope and anxiety warred inside him.
She cocked her head to one side, holding his gaze with hers. “Not wouldn’t. It won’t be.”
“Are you serious?” he said, unable to stop himself from tightening his grip on her hands. “You’re really considering a move to L.A. and—”
She squeezed back and stepped even closer. “And maybe it’ll help my career...”
He took a matching step, until their bodies almost touched. “And maybe we’ll find Mikey and Al again...”
“And maybe it’ll turn into something pretty awesome.”
Michael reached out and cradled her face in his hands. She closed her eyes and sighed at his touch. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. One kiss, and then another, soft at first, and then with more intent. Alex reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, kissing him back. After a long, deep kiss, Alex took a breath and pulled back, smiling wide. He rested his forehead against hers.