One Step Away (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 1)

by Sydney Bristow

  One Step Away

  Sydney Bristow

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Smashwords Edition

  Edited by Kate Hiester

  Cover art by The Killion Group

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Other Titles by Sydney Bristow

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Help! Come to the diner now!”

  Reading the text-messaged plea, Alexander Lawford left work at the Bedford Falls Public Library, where he managed the Adult Services Department, and hurried into Forever and Always, a 1980s-themed diner that his sister, Kelsey, owned and operated. He glanced around the restaurant, searching for the person who sent the urgent text message: his best friend and the only woman he had ever loved, Marisa Moretti. Yet they weren’t together, nor had they ever been.

  Whenever she wanted to break up with a boyfriend, Marisa always visited the diner, not only because she and Kelsey were close friends, but also because a public breakup reduced the chances of an ugly incident if her ex reacted in an ungentlemanly manner. And judging by the clipped message, Alexander guessed the request was not only possible but probable.

  He looked past the restaurant’s glittering neon lights and memorabilia: signed photographs from movie stars, framed covers of Rolling Stone magazine, sports jerseys encased in glass, and numerous other souvenirs from the era. Still, he didn’t spot Marisa anywhere.

  Behind the front counter, Kelsey waved a beige hand towel to catch his attention. With long, curly blond tresses, she had applied dark mascara that accentuated olive-colored eyes. Numerous silver earrings pierced her ears, and a gold cross dipped between plenty of cleavage.

  “Where is she?” he asked, frowning at his sister’s revealing outfit before scanning the diner for Marisa.

  “Guessing she went to the restroom.”

  Alexander let out a sigh of relief, glad that Marisa’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t convinced her to give their relationship another shot. If she had, Marisa would have already left. AT least now, he knew that she still planned to break up with her boyfriend. Excitement whipped through him. Now that Marisa had left another relationship behind, it once more gave him an opportunity to try to find out why she never considered him boyfriend material.

  She often complimented him on his sense of style, which today consisted of a navy blue dress shirt, a matching silk tie that exuded confidence without trying too hard, khaki Dockers, and polished brown shoes.

  And since Marisa worked at the Bedford Falls Public Library as the Youth Services Department Head, it wasn’t as if she could say he had a horrible job, since their salaries were comparable and they had the same benefits.

  At thirty, Alexander also regarded himself as decent looking, even if a few strands of gray had sneaked into his brown hair, and he lifted weights and hit the treadmill a few times a week at the gym, so he stayed fit. And most importantly, they were best friends. They understood each other, got each other’s humor, and confided in each other, so he had no idea what discouraged Marisa from looking at him as more than just a best friend.

  “You’re like a relief pitcher,” Kelsey said, looking disappointed. “You get called in to pick up the save. But it sucks that you never pick up Marisa.”

  Ignoring the comment, he wanted to address the stares every single man in the diner directed at his 28-year- old sister. He’d always been overprotective of her, especially since she had a smile for everyone, took others at their word, always looked for the best in people, and never seemed to recognize that they might have ulterior motives.

  He motioned toward her chest without glancing in that direction. “Do you have to show off the dynamic duo?”

  “They attract customers. And in this business climate, I’ll do whatever it takes to get an edge.”

  “I get that, but do you have to wear such…revealing clothes?”

  “I know you’re all for walking the streets nude, but that whole indecent exposure state law thing? Kind of important if I want to stay in business. And you’re a librarian? Think of the kids! Some public servant, you are – corrupting young minds. Seriously, that master’s degree of yours was a waste of money. Makes me glad I skipped all that nonsense. Which reminds me: The Witching Hour opens in a few weeks. I expect you and Marisa to stop by,” she said, referring to her new paranormal-themed restaurant which featured witch and vampire décor.

  “We’ll be there.” But he didn’t fall for the bait, allowing his sister to get him off the subject. “I’m just saying that not all men are harmless. I worry about you.”

  She smiled as she squirted some disinfectant on the countertop then rubbed away grease with her hand towel. “I’m lucky to have you, big brother.” She cocked her head to the left. “But another woman needs your help right now.”

  He turned to see Marisa, now seated in a booth off to the right, giving him the long-established signal for help: scratching her right ear before flipping long, lustrous blond hair, which she’d recently colored from a darker shade for a change of pace, across delicate shoulders. Now he understood where Kelsey got the baseball analogy, since managers often gestured to relief pitchers to enter the game.

  The usual sense of dread overwhelmed him. Alexander knew all too well why men had difficulty detaching themselves from Marisa, but this was the fourth time that he would confront an ex-boyfriend in just over two years.

  Although he looked forward to Marisa returning to single status, he didn’t look forward to a possible altercation with an angry ex-boyfriend. So far, he’d avoided resorting to violence, which would bring negative publicity upon his sister’s restaurant. But that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t one day need to defend himself.

  “Are you ready?” Kelsey asked with a large grin, ready to head into the back room to cut off Bruce Springsteen’s “I’m on Fire” to replace it with a carefully chosen song that typified Alexander’s upcoming duty.

  He didn’t respond, just listened to Springsteen yearning for a woman he desired more than any other, while knowing that he would never have her. Alexander tried not to read too much into the similarities between the song and the predicament he now faced with Marisa. Then again, a parallel could only be drawn if he threw in the towel. And he had no intention of giving up on the woman he was certain was his soul mate.

  Alexander pushed away from the counter and flipped a finger in the air, indicating that she could cut off the satellite radio station in favor of playing his “theme song” fro
m her iPod.

  The ominous gong and drumbeat from Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” pumped through the speakers in the ceiling. Of course, the restaurant’s few dozen customers had no idea that Kelsey had selected this song for her brother’s task, but Alexander spun back to her, shaking his head at her immaturity. The song didn’t apply to him. Sure, he encouraged Marisa’s ex-boyfriends to leave, but the result didn’t end with him any better off than the men he compelled to leave. Therefore, he wasn’t exactly telling these guys to beat it.

  She smiled at him. But it wasn’t the smile that she bestowed upon those she shared an intimate connection with, the one Alexander yearned to see directed toward him, the one that made her blue-flecked eyes sparkle with passion and happiness. They had an intense magnetism that reeled him in without restraint, no matter how much Alexander tried to resist their pull. And he had tried. Lord knows he had tried. But they had such vivacity. Such spirit.

  He caught sight of the soft, smooth slope of her nose, a characteristic that made her self-conscious, although she never explained why. Alexander found that completely absurd: he considered it her most attractive feature, and he wanted to press his own lips against it just to soothe her apprehension.

  He examined her face: an arched left eyebrow that might trigger a competitive nature, appear suspicious if given uncertain circumstances (like now), and might even look unyielding when caught by an inquisitive mind that branched out in various directions at any given time. But he’d also seen her notch that eyebrow a few times in quick succession when in a flirty mood. And what he wouldn’t give to have her lavish that teasing gesture upon him.

  He sidestepped a waitress who was leading a couple to a table beside him, dashing his amorous feelings and allowing him to focus on his assignment: persuading the boyfriend out of Marisa’s life. She believed that men simply had a difficult time letting go of relationships. She didn’t recognize the rarity in finding someone like her.

  When she looked in the mirror, her reflection never manifested the graceful image that Alexander saw. Plenty of women were beautiful, but few also had a fun, easy-going personality alongside a wonderful sense of humor and a sharp intelligence that could challenge many of the winning contestants on Jeopardy.

  As he pulled up to Marisa’s booth, Alexander directed his attention to the man sitting across from her.

  In his early thirties with wavy black hair and a couple days of stubble on his face, the soon-to -be ex wore a Motley Crue T-shirt that proclaimed “Girls, Girls, Girls” across the front. A tiny, silver skull pierced his left ear and a soul patch lined the space below his lower lip. He twisted his neck and looked up at their uninvited guest

  “We’re busy here, do you mind?” He turned away from Alexander and redirected his attention to Marisa.

  “I don’t mind, but she does,” Alexander said, nodding toward Marisa without taking his eyes off the guy. During these situations, he worried that one of these jilted boyfriends would take offense to his unwanted company, propel himself out of his seat, and throw a punch.

  And more than anything, Alexander didn’t want to get into a fight, because the last time he’d resorted to violence had convinced him to never again take up arms. That pledge now held more weight than ever before.

  But that didn’t stop vicious thoughts from circling his head. After all, this man once had the honor of holding Marisa’s hand after exiting restaurants, had the opportunity to embrace her during a scary movie, had the good fortune to kiss her…

  He tore the images from his mind, his gaze falling once more on the “Girls, Girls, Girls,” T-shirt, which showcased four dudes on motorcycles. Did this guy get the irony behind that absurdity? Probably not. That lack of insight persuaded Alexander to be more direct with the man. “The lady asked you to leave. Please be a gentleman about this.”

  Ignoring Alexander, he stared at Marisa for a long beat. “You’re serious?”

  She met his gaze with an empathetic look. “I truly meant what I said…the last three times we’ve seen each other.” She winced, looking pained to have delivered such news. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Unbelievable.” He scooted out of the booth, sneering as he looked down at her. Then he turned to Alexander. “Good luck with this one. You’re going to need it.” He strode away from the booth, shaking his head in frustration.

  To the unobservant eye, the guy looked angry and impatient, but since Alexander had developed a keen eye for body language in order to recognize anything behind the virtual cloak that Marisa wore at all times to hide her feelings, he also saw sorrow in the man’s eyes along with a bit of lost hope. Alexander identified with both feelings. When it came to Marisa, he’d spent quite a few lonely nights suffering both of those unwelcome sensations with no clue how to end the torment.

  As he slipped into the booth beside her, Marisa reached across the table and took his hands in hers. “I’m sorry about calling you again,” she said with warmth in her voice. She lowered her gaze, deep in concentration. “I feel stupid for needing your help. Like I’m some kind of drama queen on reality TV.”

  She tightened her grasp around his knuckles then released him and met his expression again. “I went out with Rudy because my hair stylist suggested it, and she’s such a nice person.” Marisa shrugged with little enthusiasm. “I wanted it to work out, but we just didn’t have much in common. And I hung on longer than I should have because I didn’t want to disappoint my stylist. It’s ridiculous, I know. But she’s such a sweet person. I didn’t want to let her down.”

  Marisa spent a few seconds mired in despondency before her face brightened. “Oh, hey, guess what?” She retrieved two tickets from her purse and, with a beaming smile, placed them on the table between them. “These are for you and your dad.”

  Alexander stared at tickets to a Chicago Bears game two months from now. Earlier this week, Marisa had won them from a local radio station giveaway.

  “But you and Kelsey were planning to go. She was really looking forward to it.”

  Marisa’s expression turned sympathetic. “But the Bears are the only thing you two really talk about. It’s the only time you two bond.”

  “But Kelsey loves the Bears. Even more than me. I couldn’t do that to her.”

  “Well, when I suggested giving you and your dad the tickets, she was all for it.”

  He paused as another thought took hold of him. “This isn’t because I just helped you, is it?”

  The enthusiasm in Marisa’s expression flattened. “I can’t believe you just said that.” She stared at him as though doubting that he truly knew her.

  The disappointment lining her face made him question his assumption. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”

  “I wanted you two to have fun. I know how much you care about him. And even if you don’t see it, he loves you. I just wanted you to see it in his company…I wanted to give you a great memory to hold onto.”

  He should have known that she wouldn’t have selfish motives for gifting the tickets to him. It made a bulge enter his throat. “Now I feel like a total asshole. I’m sorry. Me and my dad, we just…” But as he thought about telling his father that they’d see the Bears play at Soldier Field, a smile came to his lips.

  “I know,” she said with a flicker of pain entering her voice. She pushed the tickets across the table to him. “Please take them. It would mean a lot to me.”

  He accepted the tickets and placed them in his pocket. “Thank you.” His mood lifted. “I think we’ll actually have a pretty great time.”

  She lowered her gaze to the table. “I’ve got to admit that, when I have a nasty breakup, I may exaggerate a bit…in needing you to be here.” She looked off to the side. “It’s selfish, I guess. But you make me feel better just by being here with me. ”

  Alexander didn’t know what to make of those statements. On one hand, he was glad they had established such a strong friendship. But on the other, he wished that connection had developed into something more intima
te.

  Of course, Alexander hadn’t told her how he really felt. Doing so would cause irreparable damage to their relationship. But each day, in every way, he showed her what she couldn’t see: they were soul mates.

  Whenever Marisa wanted to talk, no matter how tired or irritable he might be at that moment, he locked down those feelings and lent an ear. Alexander included her in family game nights and thought of her first whenever a new blockbuster played at the movie theater. They had traditions like visiting the Chicago Botanic Gardens each spring, talking on the phone while providing their own commentary during their favorite television shows, and seeing the Cubs play every opening day at Wrigley Field.

  Alexander turned to her for advice on everything from clothes and career opportunities to exercise and women, the latter of which she always offered her undivided attention and, with the utmost exuberance, presented various opinions to help him make the best first impression.

  In those instances, he’d always hoped that Marisa would get a little jealous. But she was always so excited for him and spent a lot of time and energy trying to help him land a woman that he’d ordinarily have asked out – if he hadn’t been in love with Marisa.

  Nevertheless, if Alexander even suggested the possibility of something more than a deep friendship, if he mentioned how she consumed his thoughts and desires, all of those heartfelt, late-night conversations and treasured rituals would collapse with all the power and fury of a star going supernova.

  Now, Marisa sat back in the booth, peering through the plate glass window, watching her ex walk down the street. “Why is it so hard?”

  “Wow, already flirting with me? You sure move fast.”

  A flicker of a smile indicated that she approved of the dirty joke. “Dating is so…exhausting. It’s getting tougher to smile and actually mean it. Constantly looking and hoping and praying.”