Just Watch the Fireworks

by Monica Alexander

I should have realized that when the first feeling I had upon hearing this news was disappointment that I’d have to cancel my plans to go to the movies with Beckett that something was wrong with me, but I didn’t. I just pushed those thoughts from my mind and focused on my second thought – three days at the beach with Ryan. Let the making up begin.

  ***

  “What are you doing?” Ryan asked, as his arms slipped around my waist, the tips of his fingers sliding into the front of my bikini bottoms.

  I turned around to face him. “I think the bigger question is, what are you doing?”

  He just grinned at me. I noticed how different he looked in just three days. It was our last day on Martha’s Vineyard. He was taking the red eye back that night, but we still had a few hours until we had to leave.

  We’d spent almost all of our time sunning on his family’s private beach, eating at restaurants in town, riding bikes everywhere and sleeping much longer than either of us normally did. I hadn’t run once since we’d arrived. Our time together had been all about relaxing and reconnecting. After three days, Ryan was tan and the dark circles were gone. He looked calm and content, but I knew it wouldn’t last. He’d be back to work the next morning, and although he promised me he’d make more of an effort to balance work with other things, I knew he wouldn’t. He was a workaholic by nature.

  “Mmm,” he said, as he leaned down to kiss me. “I’m just enjoying my last few hours with you.” He slowly kissed me.

  “I’m all salty from the ocean,” I said, pushing him away slightly. “I need a shower.”

  We were standing out on the back deck of his parent’s house, next to the outdoor shower.

  “You’re fine,” he said, as he pulled me close. His arms wrapped around me tightly as if he was afraid if he let go, he’d lose me.

  “You’re salty too,” I said, as I kissed him, my hands sliding around his waist.

  “Come on,” he said, taking my hand.

  He led me over to the outdoor hot tub and turned on the jets, following me into the water. He sat down on the bench seat and beckoned me to him. I walked over slowly, sitting down next to him and draping my legs across his thighs. He rested his hands on my knees under the water.

  “This was just want I needed,” I said, my words having a personal double-meaning.

  Being with Ryan made me remember what an amazing guy he really was. Sure, we had our problems – my fears of marriage and kids, his family, my friendship with Beckett, the fact that I’d cheated with Beckett – but we didn’t talk about any of that. The whole time we’d kept everything at a surface level, just trying to cram in as much fun as possible.

  I decided I wouldn’t tell him about what had happened with Beckett. Some things were better left in the past. Maybe I would tell him down the road, but at that time, all I kept thinking about was the explosion that would undoubtedly ensue if I let loose the truth about what had happened over the Fourth of July weekend. I’d experienced enough fireworks that weekend, and I wasn’t just talking about the ones that had boomed over the Charles River.

  Fighting with Ryan wasn’t fun, and for once I just let go of how hurt I was that he’d chosen work over me. Usually our fights lasted for days with me throwing his choices back in his face, but for some reason, I just didn’t see the point anymore. Maybe I was growing up. Plus, Ryan had more than made up for it since he’d been back, and for the first time ever, he hadn’t done it by buying me lavish gifts. Being sweet and attentive had been his only gift, and by far it was his best one ever.

  “I needed this, too,” he said, as he kissed me once. “Maybe I should just throw it all away. We could move out here and live off the money I’ve saved. We’d have at least ten years of good living before we’d have to go back to work – if we were conservative.”

  “You’d have to get rid of your Porsche,” I said, suddenly tempted by what he was saying.

  “Done,” he said. “I could just ride a bike everywhere.”

  “What about your condo?” I asked.

  “I’d sell it,” he said, not thinking twice about the decision. “Think about it. You could write that book you’ve always talked about writing.”

  He did have a point there. I hadn’t dedicated nearly enough time to writing as I should have, having been preoccupied with other things.

  “What would I do for money?” I asked, thinking of my small savings account and how it might last me a month if I wasn’t working.

  “You wouldn’t have to worry about money,” he said, kissing me on the nose. With that, I pulled back and eyed him skeptically. “Fine, I knew you’d never go for that. You could still write your blog. You get some money from that, right?”

  It had been larger as of late since I’d built up my advertiser list, but he was right. That would be something. I’d been using the income I got every month to pay down my student loans, so until they were paid off not working wasn’t an option.

  He smiled at me. “Just think about it,” he said. “I’m not going to walk away from this assignment, so we have at least until the end of the summer, but I’ve been exploring my options lately. I’m not sure how much longer I can kill myself at work.

  “What would you do all day if we moved here?” I asked, a million other questions floating around in my head that I was afraid to ask.

  “This,” he said, kissing me, his arms wrapping around my waist, pulling me close.

  I gave in, realizing my questions could wait.

  Twenty-Four

  “Hey you,” I said, when Beckett answered the phone. It had been a week since I’d talked to him, and I wasn’t sure if he was avoiding me or I was avoiding him or both, but I was tired of trying to pretend I didn’t want to talk to him.

  After Ryan and I had gotten back from The Vineyard, I’d dove back into work, catching up on what I’d put aside to go on an impromptu getaway. I’d told myself that I was busy, and didn’t have time to hang out with Beckett, but in truth, I was trying to see if I could put some distance between us. By the time Tuesday rolled around, I’d lost my resolve.

  “Hey,” he said, and it felt so good to hear his voice, even if it did sound slightly stilted. “How was The Vineyard?”

  “Gorgeous. Relaxing. Amazing,” I said, then realized how he might interpret that.

  Granted, I’d had amazing time with Ryan, but as screwed up as it might sound admitting that to Beckett felt like a betrayal of some kind.

  “Good,” he said, keeping his comments brief. “Everything’s fine with the fiancé?”

  The fact that he didn’t say Ryan’s name was not lost on me. “We’re fine,” I said, keeping it brief, as well.

  “Good.”

  “How come you haven’t called me?” I asked.

  Beckett sighed. “I was trying to give you some space.”

  “I didn’t ask for space,” I said, knowing that now that I’d gotten to talk to him, distance was the last thing I wanted.

  “I was giving myself space,” he said, sighing.

  “Got it,” I said, knowing I sounded suddenly deflated. “Do you still want space?”

  Beckett laughed a brief, non-humorous laugh. “I never wanted space. I was just trying it out.” I could hear the defeat in his voice. He knew that my going away with Ryan had solidified the fact that we couldn’t be anything more than friends. I could tell he was taking it hard, and I couldn’t blame him. If the roles had been reversed, I’d be in far worse shape than he was at that moment.

  “And,” I prompted.

  “I hated it,” he said.

  “Good, because I do believe I owe you a movie.”

  He laughed a genuine laugh at that, and we made plans to meet up that night.

  ***

  “Popcorn?” Beckett asked, as we approached the snack bar.

  “Um, yeah, and Reece’s Pieces,” I said, resisting the urge to add ‘duh’ to the end of my sentence. As if there was any question we would get snacks.

  When it was our turn to order, Beck
ett stepped up to the counter and smiled widely at the teenage girl who had asked if she could help us. She responded to his smile with one of her own, her braces shining brightly in the glow of the track lighting overhead. She was very taken with him, as he leaned forward on the counter, looking up at the menu board.

  “Hi Annie,” he said, reading her name badge. She smiled even wider. “We will have a medium popcorn.” I elbowed him, and he looked down at me.

  “Dude, get a large,” I said. “What are you, an anorexic girl?”

  He shook his head at me, chucking lightly. “I have to remind myself that you’re not like the girls I date.”

  I wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up at him sweetly. “Don’t forget the extra butter flavor,” I said, as I batted my eyelashes at him.

  “Annie, a large popcorn and extra butter, please,” he said. “And, Reece’s Pieces. Are you okay with sharing a large soda?”

  He looked back down at me in anticipation. I raised my eyebrows and nodded a few times. I figured his tongue had been in my mouth. Sharing a soda was nothing.

  We carried our loot to the theater, seeking out seats that were right in the middle. The theater wasn’t very crowded.

  “So classes started up again this week,” Beckett said, reaching in for a handful of popcorn. “I’m teaching every day from noon to one.”

  He stuffed the popcorn in his mouth, a few pieces falling onto his lap. I laughed, as he brushed them to the floor. “Take smaller bites,” I advised, taking three pieces of popcorn and popping them into my mouth.

  He proceeded to take another big handful and the same thing happened. I shook my head at him as he looked down at his lap. “What?” he asked, his mouth full of popcorn.

  “You’re a pig,” I said, shaking my head.

  “But I’m a cute pig,” he said around the popcorn he was chewing. He took a large gulp of soda, and I wondered if he acted this way on real dates with girls he was interested in. Probably not.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I said, as the house lights went down and the previews started.

  Beckett took my hand in his and leaned toward me. I looked up involuntarily. His lips looked shiny with butter in the light from the screen which made them look twice as tempting.

  “I missed you,” he said, and I smiled at him, echoing his sentiments in my mind.

  Beckett held my hand through the duration of the movie as we laughed and cringed at the more inappropriate parts. I knew then that I’d chosen the right person to see that particular movie with. Ryan would have hated it.

  When the movie ended, Beckett let go of my hand as we made our way out of the theater. He walked behind me, his arms threaded around my waist, making it hard to walk. We had to be in tandem with each other and it didn’t seem to be happening. We kept tripping over each other’s feet. As we reached the lobby of the theater, I did a double-take when I noticed John, Ryan’s brother, standing with a few guys. I was suddenly gripped with fear that he would see me with Beckett and report back to Ryan, so I pulled out of Beckett’s arms, putting some distance between us as I tried to figure out how I could get around their group without John seeing me. Then he looked in my direction, recognition flashing across his face as he saw me. I knew then that I’d have to go over and say hello.

  “Hey John,” I said, hugging him briefly. “What are you doing here?”

  “We just saw Pickers,” he said, referring to the two guys behind him. “Guys, this is Courtney, my brother’s fiancé. Courtney, these are my friends, Craig and Dan.”

  I shook each of their hands knowing I would never remember their names. My heart was racing too much out of fear of getting caught with Beckett, even though we weren’t technically doing anything wrong.

  “John, this is my friend, Beckett,” I said. “We went to UMass together.”

  “Nice to meet you, man,” John said, extending his hand to Beckett.

  I felt the need to attach some kind of platonic label to Beckett when I introduced him. I could read the irritation on his face as he shook John’s hand, and I knew that since John was related to Ryan, he was automatically the enemy.

  “Was the movie good?” I asked, trying to find something to talk about with John.

  “Yeah, it was,” he said. “What did you see?”

  “We saw Fanatically Challenged. It was hilarious.”

  “Yeah?” John asked, and I could tell he was trying as hard as I was to make conversation. We just didn’t have a lot in common other than Ryan. “I’ll have to check it out.”

  “Court?” Beckett said, nudging me slightly. I turned to face him. He held up his phone. “I’m going to call Kelsey. She should be off by now.”

  I gave him a weird look that only he could see, but he just smiled at me before he walked off. I wondered why on earth he was choosing that moment to call Kelsey. I dismissed the thought and turned back to John. Then it hit me.

  “Kelsey’s his girlfriend,” I said, suddenly understanding what had just transpired. Beckett knew it wouldn’t look good for John to see us at the movies together, so he’d make sure that John knew he had a girlfriend. Smart move.

  John nodded in understanding, but I didn’t think he actually cared who Kelsey was. We talked awkwardly for another few minutes before his friends told him they had to go. As they walked off in one direction, I headed in the opposite one to find Beckett. He was sitting on a bench outside, fiddling with his phone. He stuffed it in his pocket and stood up as soon as he saw me.

  “Thanks for that,” I said.

  He shrugged. “Anytime,” he said, as we started walking. His apartment was just across The Common, and I had met him there. “I didn’t want to make trouble for you.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said, and we walked in silence for a few minutes. I could only imagine what he was thinking. “So you said you’re teaching again?”

  He nodded, looking over at me. I smiled at him.

  “Can I come to one of your classes? I want to see you teach.”

  He laughed. “Sure,” he said, “although, you’ll probably be bored. It’s just a freshman American History class – all things you’ll already know.”

  “Only because you taught them to me.”

  “Yeah, I’m a regular walking history book,” he said, as he put his arm around my shoulders.

  “Hey, some of us find that adorable,” I said sincerely, as I put my arm around his waist.

  Twenty-Five

  That Thursday, I took the T out to Boston College. As I got off the train, I was surprised to see John standing on the platform waiting to board.

  “Hey, Courtney,” he said, obviously surprised to see me. “Twice in one week. Lucky me.”

  “What are you doing down here?” I asked, as I hugged him, knowing this was the last place I expected to see him, as well.

  “I’m going to take some graduate classes in the fall,” he said. “I was just meeting with the dean of the law school. I’m thinking about getting serious about my future again.”

  The way he said it made me laugh, thinking he sounded just like his father, which I assumed was intentional.

  “Good for you,” I said, good-naturedly. Behind me the train started to pull away. “Uh, you missed your train.” I gestured to the train that was turning around to head back to Boston. BC was the last stop on the route.

  “They’ll be another one in a few minutes,” John said. “Hey, any chance you’d want to grab lunch?”

  I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure how to explain to him that I was having lunch Beckett, the same guy he’d seen me with on Tuesday. The news would definitely find its way back to Ryan, which wasn’t ideal for me since Ryan and I were in a really good place. We’d talked every night that week and each time he’d been in his hotel room. He’d made a conscious effort to leave work earlier, eat better, go to the gym and make time to call his fiancé for more than five minutes a night. Things were good.

  “I actually have lunch plans with a girlfriend,” I told John, figuring t
hat sounded better.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, she’s a student at BC – grad school. Her name’s Julie.”

  At least if he reported back to Ryan, he’d be able to provide the name of someone who Ryan had met, if he even remembered her, who was actually in grad school at BC. It felt like a safe alibi.

  “Is she cute?” John asked, grinning at me.

  “Not your type,” I said. “She’s too wholesome.”

  John clutched his heart. “Aw, do you really know me that well?” he asked. “On second thought, don’t answer that. Ry’s probably told you all sorts of stories.”

  I nodded and smiled at him.

  “Well, they’re all true,” John said, shaking his head in mock disappointment in himself.

  “What are you doing taking the train anyway?” I asked then. I figured he would have driven his Corvette into the city.

  “I moved to Boston,” he said, and I must have looked surprised because he said, “I guess I haven’t told Ryan, so it makes sense that you don’t know. He’s a busy bastard who can’t even call his own brother back.”

  I folded my arms across my chest as a girl in a BC sweatshirt stepped around us. We were blocking the sidewalk.

  “His job’s been really tough this summer,” I said, feeling the need to explain on Ryan’s behalf. “So,where are you living?”

  “Beacon Hill,” he said. “Right on Charles Street.”

  My heart just about stopped in my chest, but I maintained my composure. I took some quiet, but deep breaths to try to calm down. John lived on the same street as Beckett. This might not be the best news although it was a long street, so it was likely they lived nowhere near each other.

  “Wow, that’s a great neighborhood,” I said, not ready to disclose how I knew that.

  I realized I’d been talking to him for a few minutes. A glance at my watch told me Beckett’s class started in five minutes. I needed to hurry up. I didn’t want to be late

  “Do you have to go?” John asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to look like I was sorry. “I was supposed to meet my friend about five minutes ago. Hey, you don’t know where the history building is, do you?”