“You really don’t need to buy it,” Alex tells her, looking pained. “I have an obscene number of copies sitting at home. My publisher sends them to me, and I don’t know what the hell to do with them. Let me bring you one, next time Mia and Marlowe have a playdate.”
Andi hesitates, still hovering at the shelf. She drops her hand. “Are yousure?”
“Absolutely,” Alex says.
She bites her lip. “Well, only if you promise to sign it for me.”
A stripe of red creeps along Alex’s cheek. He’s standing in profile to me, but I know his other cheek is turning red, too. My stomach sinks. She made himblush. It takes a lot to make Alex blush—I’ve seen it happen twice in our entire friendship.
“Consider it done,” he says.
Andi flashes that megawatt smile his way again and clasps his wrist. “You’re thebest, Alex. Thank you!”
“No problem,” he says.
Andi takes a step back, reaching for her cart. “Well, I better get out of here, before I do any more damage.”
“The struggle is real,” I concede.
She smiles my way. “It was so great to meet you, Thea, and great to see you, Alex! Text me! We should totally get the kids together while we’re here.”
“For sure,” he says.
“Bye!” she calls.
We both watch her brisk exit toward the cashier. I turn toward Alex, whose gaze has darted up to the ceiling. “Inspecting the fluorescents?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says, without missing a beat. “Trying to figure out why they make Mia have to drop a deuce every time.”
A laugh jumps out of me. “I want to ask how you came to this conclusion that the fluorescents are at fault, but I also don’t know if Iwantto know the answer.”
“You don’t,” he says, then glances down at me. “If you’re done giving me that smug smile, I’d like you to buy whatever book you want so we can get out of here.”
“Smug?” I blink. “Me?”
“Smug. You.” He clasps my hand again, but this time, hethreads our fingers together. Pleasure and pain twist through me. I love when he does this. I don’t want to give it up. I don’t want there to be someone else whose hand he holds.
My heart’s racing. Sweat pricks my skin.
“You okay, Ted?” he asks. He knows me too well. Alex can spot my panic from a mile away.
I squeeze his hand in mine. “I’m fine. Just thinking, maybe we should swing by the sunglasses first and grab you a pair, so you can shop incognito. Seeing how much you blush you get when accosted by a fan.”
“Ha!” he says loudly. “You’re! So! Funny!”
I smile wide. “Oh, I know.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Come on, smart-ass. Let’s get your book and get out of here.”
“No sunglasses, really?” I ask. “Not even to combat the fluorescents?”
He peers down at me with that familiar irked but delighted smile. “Unlike Mia,” he says, “the fluorescents don’t have that impact on me.” Then, after a beat, as we wander out of the cookbook aisle, “Well, at least not since I hit middle school.”
I’m looking both ways, leading us as we ease out into the bike lane, when Alex says, “So are you really okay with this weird, likely beachfront wedding for Ethan and Jen happening? Are you okay with the idea of them getting married?”
“I am,” I tell him. “Why?”
“Beyond the obvious, that it’s awkward and manipulative for them to trick us into attending and thus supporting it?” He’s quietfor a moment, then says, “Because maybe it… kicked up feelings for you.”