“Ted.”
I glance over at him.
Alex’s eyes hold mine. “I’m sorry. I got all in my head about going back to the restaurant full time, and I had to lock down and get myself straightened out before I got back in touch. It had nothing to do with you, but it affected you, and I wish it hadn’t.”
An odd, awful pain stabs through me. I was disappointed that Alex dropped off the radar when I thought it was to reset after our flirty nonsense at The Bookshop. But I’m devastated that he went quiet and it had nothing to do with me, or us.
I shouldn’t be. I should be relieved—it means that our friendship is solid, that we’re safe, that he wasn’t spiraling about how good it felt to be that close when we were scaring off Kate, touching, whispering, moving together—
I shake my head, snapping myself from my thoughts. Then I take a step closer to Alex, so our arms brush, so I can feel his warmth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I thought you wanted space.”
Alex shrugs. “You didn’t need to listen to my anxiety spiral about work-life balance and potentially ruining my relationships and losing myself in my job again.”
I slide my fingers into his hand that isn’t yanking Argos back and squeeze. “No, I didn’tneedto,” I tell him. “Just like you didn’tneedto walk me to work.”
We come to a stop at the crosswalk, waiting for the light. I lean my head on his shoulder. “But Iwantto,” I say quietly. “Just like you do. Because that’s what best friends do for each other. Right?”
Alex doesn’t say anything. But he turns his head and plants a kiss on my hair.
We’re almost to work when I finally get the courage to blurt out, “I think Ethan and Jen are getting married on vacation.”
Alex nods. “Yep, me, too.”
I come to a grinding halt. “You do?”
“Well,” he says, “Mia told me about the white dress Ethanbought her that matches Mommy’s and that has to be saved for a special occasion on our beach vacation. Seemed pretty intuitive.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”
“Right, fair.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “I didn’t say anything, either.”
Alex’s gaze dips down to the sidewalk ahead, then back up to me. “How do you feel about it?”
A sigh leaves me. “Honestly, I don’t even know. It just feels weird—like a weird thing to do, roping us into it.”
Alex grunts.
“How do you feel about it?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Same as you.”
After a beat of silence, I say to him, “And speaking of weird, is it just me, or is it odd that we’ve heard nothing else from Ethan or Jen about this vacation, and we’re a week away from the trip?”
Alex frowns in concentration, gripping Argos’s leash and leaning back to hold my dog steady as a flock of pigeons settles on the sidewalk ahead of us. It makes my heart squeeze, that this is automatic to him, that he knows doggy training taught my goofy pup to sit, wait, and not bark when commanded, but it never managed to train the “Get the birds!” out of him.
“Part of why I wanted to walk you to work,” Alex says, “was to talk to you about that.” He whistles sharply, scattering the pigeons, then, as they shoot skyward, eases up on Argos’s leash. “I’ve been emailing with Ethan about logistics.”
My head snaps his way. “You two have beenemailing?”
He shrugs. “Better than talking in person. That way I don’t have to constantly suppress the urge to shove my fist down histhroat, just the urge to end every email with ‘Fuck off and have a terrible day.’?”
I snort. “Understandable.”
Alex smiles my way. “Haven’t heard that snort in a while.”
We stop at the light, waiting to cross, and Argos sits like I’ve taught him, peering up at me with those big brown eyes, long pink tongue lolled out, eager for praise. I bend and give him a smooch on his head. “I don’tsnort,” I tell Alex. “I chortle adorably.”