Been Searching For You

by Nicole Evelina

  My hesitation was enough to set Alex off. He threw up his hands. “Jesus, Annabeth! You’re as bad as my students. I swear NaNo Brain is a debilitating condition. I’m starting to recognize the dreamy look in their eyes when it comes on, and you just had the same expression. Is it really too much to ask you to listen to me rant about my day?” He threw down his napkin, pushed back his chair, and stormed into the bedroom before I could attempt to respond.

  I should have called after him, tried to stop him, but I wasn’t in the mood. All I’d done was tune out of a conversation. Men did that and got away with it all the time. Grumpily, I poked at the last of my meal, skewering a mushroom and a cube of chicken, before deciding Alex’s tantrum had robbed me of my appetite.

  When Alex hadn’t returned by the time I’d washed our dishes, I decided to let him sulk. I heard the TV chattering in the bedroom, so he couldn’t be too upset. Two could play at that game. I sat back down at the keyboard, smiling wickedly. His display of immaturity had given me an idea. The old saying really was true; irritate a novelist, and you’ll end up in their story—as a corpse.

  The next morning, I woke up groggy just moments before my alarm was due to go off. I turned off the ringer before it could buzz Alex awake.

  Thinking about it while brushing my teeth in the half light provided by my cell phone so as not to wake him, our whole argument seemed trivial. Both of us had behaved irrationally. If I had simply gone to him and apologized, offered to listen and that time really, truly tried, we could have made up by now, and I wouldn’t have the sinking feeling that I’d slept next to a stranger last night.

  As I got dressed in the closet, shielding Alex from as much light as possible, a plan formed in my mind. While I did my makeup with the bathroom door firmly closed, I scribbled, “I’m sorry for being a flighty writer,” in eyeliner on a sticky note and affixed it to the mirror in a place he’d be sure to see.

  When I emerged into the living room, hair pinned and pumps on, Alex was sitting on the loveseat, staring out the window, his navy bathrobe hanging half open to reveal his bare chest. He didn’t stir when I passed him, so I poured two cups of coffee and doctored mine before approaching him from the opposite side.

  “Hey,” I said tentatively.

  He looked up, blinking at me as though I’d woken him from a daydream. “Hey.” His voice was groggy.

  “You sound like you could use this.” I held out the cup, which he took with a small smile and a quiet thanks. “Look, Alex, I’m sorry about last night—”

  He held up a hand. “Annabeth, stop. There’s something I need to talk to you about. It’s what was really bothering me last night. I took it out on you without you even knowing it…”

  I tossed my shoes on the floor and pulled my hosed legs beneath me. “Alex, what is it? You’re worrying me.” From how serious he looked, I thought he was going to break up with me or tell me he had cancer.

  He twisted his head from side to side, cracking his neck like a boxer about to enter the ring. “Did you notice what time it was when I got home last night?”

  “No. I was so absorbed in writing I guess I lost track of time.” Oh God, he was going to tell me there was someone else.

  “It was around nine. The reason I was late was that I was having drinks with Nick.”

  My eyebrows raced for my hairline. “Okay… I thought you hated him.”

  “I do, but the dean thought it would be a good way for us to bond, then he got called away on some crisis, so it was just the two of us.”

  I watched his expression change as though he couldn’t decide whether to be mad, anxious, or hopeful. Stomach tightening, I silently willed him to go on, to get to whatever bomb he was going to drop.

  “How long have you known Nick?”

  “I told you, since we were kids.” I exhaled nervous laughter, muscles unclenching now that I knew this was the big mystery topic.

  “And the two of you were friends in college?”

  “Yes.”

  “Just friends?”

  “We dated for about a year. But it ended badly.”

  “What happened? He told me to ask you about Rome.”

  I squirmed, the leather upholstery squeaking in protest. Rome. That was the one thing I’d hoped to never have to discuss with anyone ever again, much less with the love of my life.

  “I know his version of events, but I want to hear it from you,” he said, standing and pacing.

  “No doubt they’re two totally different stories,” I muttered, watching the little dots of creamer dance in my coffee as my breath ruffled the surface. Best to get this over with. “You really want to know? Here it is, the whole ugly truth—our senior year of college, Nick and I were part of a group of students who went to Rome as part of a music competition.” I looked at him. “I played cello and he the bass, in case you were wondering. I never touched my instrument again after that school year. In fact, I sold it to pay for my move here. Anyway, he decided that Rome would be the perfect place to seal our relationship by finally sleeping together.” I put the cup down, pulled my knees up, and hugged them as though I could close in on myself like a bud at twilight. “Things were progressing, but I stopped him at the last moment. I can’t even really explain why. I just knew I couldn’t go through with it. He wasn’t the ‘the one,’ and that’s who I was saving myself for.”

  Alex stopped pacing, turning to face me. “So you didn’t sleep with him?”

  “No. Needless to say, Nick got really mad. At first he tried to get me to relax and submit, but when I shoved him off of me, he grabbed my arm, wrenching it pretty hard. Then he hit me. I think it was an accident, but I was scared—of him, of his temper, of us. I hid in the bathroom, crying until I knew for sure he was gone. He had never been violent with me before, so I chalked it up to a mistake in a tense moment. But he didn’t come back, not for the last day of the competition—luckily we had a substitute—not for the trip home. I saw him around campus not long after, and he told me it was over. We never spoke again until he turned up at Smith and Grenwick.” In my memory, his voice repeated his final words—I can’t take this anymore. We’re done.

  Alex sank down next to me. “So basically he walked out on you—after physically hurting you, accidentally or not—because you wouldn’t have sex with him. Wow. That is not the story he tells.” He shook his head, idly running a finger over the stubble on his jaw. “Wait. Is that—is that why you were so nervous the first time we made love?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, you’re the only one I’ve ever been able to trust enough.” I gave him a small, shy smile. “It’s not like I didn’t tell you beforehand I wasn’t experienced.”

  “I know, but in context it’s an even bigger honor. What made me different?”

  I thought for a long moment. “You get me in a way no one else does. It’s hard to put into words. You seem to understand my soul. It’s like you know what I need before I do.” Alex watched me for a long moment as though appreciating me in a different light. When I couldn’t take the silence any longer, I prompted him to continue. “So what’s Nick’s version of the story?”

  “That you two were lovers, that you were the love of his life, and that it isn’t over yet, so I’d better watch my back.”

  I burst out laughing. “And you believed him?”

  Alex sprang up, apparently incensed. “Well, what would you think?” His face reddened. “You work with him all day. You’re in close proximity for long hours. Things can happen. Passions can take over.”

  Wow, jealous much? I grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down to me. “Maybe for some people, but that’s not going to happen to me.” I forced him to look at me. “I didn’t date anyone seriously for eight years after Nick hurt me. We hadn’t spoken in thirteen years when he showed up in Jenna’s old office. There’s no way I’m going back to him. You have nothing to worry about.” I kissed him softly.

  “Next time I see Nick, I’m going to pummel him for lying about you,” Alex muttered, fist
s balling at his sides. “I’m sorry I believed him. It’s just—I’m a little gun-shy.”

  I snuggled into his arm. “Why?”

  Beside me, Alex tensed. His eyes were distant, looking past me as though remembering and deciding how much to reveal. “Regina. She was a real piece of work. We’d been together three years when she got a job opportunity in Washington, DC. She asked me to go with her. Even though I’d just recently become tenured, I was considering it.” A note of bitterness crept into his voice. “Then I found out she was cheating on me with one of the other lawyers in her new firm. Rumor had it they’d met at a convention and had been hooking up every time she had business in town.”

  “Oh, Alex, I’m so sorry.”

  He grunted, not really hearing me. “When I confronted her, she denied everything and accused me of choosing my career over her—again.” He gnashed the last word through clenched teeth as though mimicking the way she’d said it. Silence stretched between us, echoes of past memories filling the void. “The next thing I knew, she was gone. It was all so sudden. Even though she’d betrayed me, I wanted to try to work things out. What a fool.” He shook his head. “I need to know you won’t ever screw me over like that.”

  “Of course not.” I moved to kiss him to seal my reassurance but stopped when I saw the darkness in his eyes. Note to self: mentioning Alex’s ex, not a good idea.

  “I know you won’t. You are an entirely different kind of person.” He forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  I shouldn’t have brought her up. Now he was in a bad mood, and I was late for work. But at least I knew a few more things that pushed his buttons. As long as I didn’t get together with Nick or cheat on Alex with one of my coworkers, we should be fine. But that little word “again” bothered me. When had he chosen his job over her before and how? Silently, I added one more rule to our relationship list: I’d better not stand between him and his career or else I would be history too.

  “Well, Aunt Deloris broke her hip,” I told Alex, staring at my now-silent cell phone. “Mom says Thanksgiving is canceled.”

  “Isn’t she going to step in and host? I would think that’s the logical thing to do.” Alex glanced sidelong at me from the couch, where he was reading the paper.

  I snorted. “You don’t know my mom. Everything has to be a grand affair with her. It’s two days before Thanksgiving. There’s no way she’d have time. Besides, she has to go play Florence Nightingale to her sister.” I laughed at the mental image of my mom hovering at my poor aunt’s bedside, driving her crazy. Then I shrugged. “At least the plane ticket will transfer to Christmas, so I’m not out any money.” That was a stroke of luck considering Laini had announced our firm was going to be going through a restructuring before the end of the year. If there was any possibility I wouldn’t have a job come New Year’s, I needed to save every penny.

  “Well, you are not spending Thanksgiving alone. You’re coming with me.” He pulled me down to the couch next to him.

  I swallowed hard. “Don’t you think it’s a little soon? I mean, we’ve only been dating like a month.” I pulled my knees up to my chin and poked at him with the toe of my fuzzy pink slippers.

  Alex nipped at my ear. “Says the woman who practically lives with me. Think of it as a casual get-together. My whole family brings their significant others, and one of my brothers has a new girlfriend so you won’t be the only new person there. Besides, everyone should experience a party at the Grantham compound at least once.”

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Compound? Are you closet Kennedys or something?”

  Alex laughed. “Or something. Our lake house is the only place big enough to fit three generations of my family at once. It’s gorgeous. Trust me.”

  Thursday morning, I found myself on a downhill road, approaching that very structure, in the passenger seat of Alex’s black Mercedes, windshield wipers sluicing away a light rain. He was right. It was its own compound, sprawling over several acres on the shores of Lake Michigan. A large main house dominated the landscape with smaller wings trailing off on three sides.

  I let out a small puff of air. “I am totally out of my league here.” I turned to him. “I suspected your family had money, but I never expected anything like this.” I shoved him to mask how truly overwhelmed I was. “Here you are giving me the underpaid teacher act, and you’re loaded.”

  Alex held up a hand in surrender. “Hey, I never claimed to be underpaid. That part is on you.” He gave me the side-eye. “But yes, my family is wealthy. Millie would be proud. The Grantham fortune has its roots in the bootlegging of Prohibition.” He shrugged, eyes back on the road. “All of this has never mattered much to me. It’s just a part of my life, like my siblings are. Speaking of…”

  Alex pulled up next to a large black SUV in the circle drive and rolled down his window, letting in a blast of cold, damp air.

  “Hey, Will, where do they want us?” Alex called to a guy leaning into the trunk of the massive car.

  The man straightened and leaned in to clap Alex on the shoulder. I gasped. He could have been Alex’s twin if his hair wasn’t so short in the back. “Just leave it here. Someone will move it.”

  Alex pulled up in front of the SUV and killed the engine. “You ready?”

  I nodded. “As I’m ever gonna be.”

  We walked into a spacious living room dominated by a large glowing fireplace surrounded by dark wood paneling. Men and women in festive oranges and browns, a few in early red and green, stood in clusters chatting while children wove between them or jumped on beige upholstered furniture. Jazz music set a relaxed tone amid the popping of champagne corks, laughter, and the buzz of happy conversation.

  “It appears we’re the last to arrive,” Alex noted. “Before the others notice us, I’ll give you the lay of the land.” He gestured toward a loose knot of people about thirty paces in front of us. “The guy in the gray sweater is my brother Arthur. He’s the eldest of us, a lawyer. The blonde in the red tunic shirt is his wife, Gemma. Next to them are my brother David and his wife, Marcie, both also lawyers. The brunette is my little sister, Casey.”

  “Let me guess—she’s also studying law,” I said dryly.

  “Family tradition.”

  “Then how did you become a teacher?”

  Alex frowned. “That’s a sore spot. I’ll explain later.”

  Alex’s younger could-be-twin emerged from a side door, carrying a drink in each hand, one of which he held out to a cute Asian girl. “You met Will earlier. That’s his girlfriend, Lila. See, I told you you wouldn’t be the only new face.” He scanned the crowd. “I’m not sure where Mom and Dad are, and I see some cousins mixed in, but at least you’ve got a little background. Shall we?” He held out a hand, inviting me to venture into the throng.

  By the time we were called to dinner, my head was swimming with new names and faces, most of which I’d already forgotten. Will was one of the few I could remember, maybe because I’d met him first.

  He took a liking to me and explained one way to keep them straight was that everyone was named after famous kings and queens in chronological order. “Biblical David is first, then your Alexander the Great, King Arthur, William the Conqueror”—he gestured to himself—“and Catherine the Great—but she insists we call her Casey.”

  I was about to ask how the odd naming system came to be when we were interrupted by the arrival of Alex’s parents—a tall, tanned man with thick silver hair and the broad shoulders of a linebacker and a petite woman with precisely coiffed short red hair.

  Alex introduced me to his father first. “Father, this is my girlfriend, Annabeth Coe. She’s been the chief writer and strategist on the university’s enrollment campaign. Annabeth, my father, the Honorable Oliver Grantham.” He added in my ear, “He’s a judge.”

  Oliver held out a beefy hand, and I blanched, anticipating the bone-crushing squeeze he delivered. “Pleased to meet you,” he said stiffly.

  Before I could respond,
his wife stepped between us. She was a head shorter than me but carried herself with the grace of a ballerina. “I’m Evelyn, Alex’s stepmother.”

  Introductions made, we sat, bowing our heads while the judge said grace, then he carved the turkey. As the trimmings were passed around the table, I began to relax, feeling less like the object of scrutiny. While we ate, Alex’s father and David debated the upcoming election and how it may change the political landscape of the city and affect his judgeship.

  Not being one for politics, I kept my eyes on my plate, wishing Alex was left-handed so I could hold his hand while we ate. Next to me, his sister, Casey, was prattling on about a concert she’d attended the night before, so I tuned in to that. I had seen one of the bands a few years ago, so at least that was something to which I could relate.

  “Alex, you still coach crew for one those inner city schools, don’t you?” Oliver’s booming voice carried over Casey’s story, drawing my attention back to him mid-conversation. At Alex’s nod, he continued, “What do you think about this Common Core nonsense?”

  “Well, I don’t really deal with it much directly because I teach college students, but it is certainly affecting the way my incoming freshmen process information. And from what the boys on the crew tell me, it’s making their homework harder because their parents can’t help them with it. They—we—were raised on a completely different system, so it’s hard to relearn the basics a new way at an older age. It’s supposed to be a fair system that shows how well students are performing state-to-state, but all it seems to have done is cause problems for parents, teachers, and students. Where’s the equity in that?”

  Oliver chuckled darkly. “If equity is what you want, you should have become a lawyer. Maybe you could have advanced to a seat on the bench like me. Then you’d be the one to say what’s fair and just.” He sipped his scotch. “But no, you had to go off to your liberal arts studies and become a teacher.”