Almost Like Being in Love (40 page)

“What gives Nancy Miller the right—”

“She's your partner, Dad.”

Her father gripped the arms of his chair, an odd smile twisting his lips. “You enjoyed that, didn't you?”

“No, actually I didn't.” Caron hid her hands behind her back. “I hope Hollister Realty Group succeeds in ways you never imagined. But it's best that I'm not a part of it.”

“If this is about the home staging suggestion—”

“This is about me making my own decision about where I want to work. And about realizing that my being your employee isn't a good idea.”

“And that's that?”

“Yes. Please don't take this out on Nancy. She's a tremendous asset. You made a smart business move when you made her your partner.”

“I'll handle
Nancy as I think is best.”

“Of course. It was just a request—daughter to father.”

Her father reached for the newspaper again. “Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Before she'd even made it to the door, her father had disappeared behind the paper again.

•  •  •

It was an odd sort of summer when her first day at the beach didn't happen until August.

Caron's soft laugh broke the stillness of the morning, along with the faint beat of her footsteps along the boardwalk leading through the sand dunes to Henderson State Beach.

An odd sort of summer.

That would be one way to sum up the last couple of months.

She shifted her canvas beach bag on her shoulder, inhaling the Gulf breeze. At eight o'clock in the morning, she was one of the few early arrivers to the beach. She'd stake out a spot along the sugar-white sands. And then she'd walk.

Maybe the time spent allowing the music of the waves to set the rhythm of her heart would help her to pray. To hear God's voice. She'd walk in one direction until she decided to turn around and head back, and then she'd repeat the process. She could stay at the beach all day if she wanted to. And if her life wasn't any clearer by the end of today, she could always come back tomorrow and walk and talk with God some more.

She wasn't wasting time. She was making time. For herself. For God.

Talk to God. Listen. Wait.

W
as it too soon?

Alex slowed the car as Jessica's house came into view, one hand gripping the steering wheel, one hand downshifting. Was she even home? And if she did answer the door, would he be able to say anything besides “I hope you like sausage and pepperoni”?

The aroma of fresh-baked pizza filled his car—yeasty dough, tomato sauce, baked meats and cheese—but he'd refrained from snitching a piece on his way over even though he'd ordered a second basic cheese pizza as a backup. If Jessica wasn't home—or if she refused to talk with him—he'd be sitting in his apartment eating pizza for the next few days.

Okay, God, I'm here. If it's your will, at least give me a chance to say what I want to say.

Alex balanced the pizzas with one hand, heat radiating through the cardboard boxes, and rapped on Jessica's front door, even as he resisted the urge to turn around and walk away. But if the first month of counseling had taught him nothing else, it
was to begin to speak up for himself. Say what he wanted to say, and accept he had no control over the outcome. He'd already told his parents that he and Caron had broken up.

After surviving that conversation, he could certainly do this.

When the door opened, it took all Alex's effort not to drop the boxes of pizza.

“Hey, Bobbie—” The smile froze on Jessica's lips. “You're not Bobbie.”

“No, no, it's me. And you . . . must be going on a date.”

Jessica's hair was woven into some sort of intricate braid that fell over one shoulder. She wore a shimmery blue V-neck dress that accentuated her figure in a way he'd never imagined and would find hard to forget. A pair of silver strappy heels dangled from one of her hands.

“Alex, what are you doing here?”

“I, um, brought pizza.” Alex lowered his arm to prove his statement. “I'm sorry. I should have called first.”

“You brought pizza?” Jessica stood there, staring at him, looking both adorable and irresistible in her confusion. “I don't understand.”

He was still new at this whole being-open-with-other-people thing, but he knew it was important to the woman standing in front of him. “I wanted to see you again . . . to talk to you. And so I thought it would be fun to surprise you—and Scotty—with pizza. But I didn't think about the fact that you might be busy. Or have a date. With Bobby.”

“A date—” Jessica shook her head. “Bobbie's not my date—she's my babysitter. I'm going out with some girlfriends to celebrate my birthday.”

“Oh.” Alex took a step forward. Stopped. “Wait—it's your birthday? Well, happy birthday. Let me just get out of your way.”

Jessica grabbed his arm, pulling him into the house. “Will you get in here, please?”

“Who's at the door, Mommy?” Scotty came skidding around the corner. “Is it Miss Bobbie?”

“No, it's Mr. Alex.”

“Mr. Alex is babysitting me tonight?”

“No, Miss Bobbie is babysitting you—”

As Alex knelt down, he held the pizzas aloft, bracing for the little boy's hug. Jessica rescued the pizzas, taking them from his hands.

“Where ya been, Mr. Alex? I've been asking Mom when you were coming over again.”

“And I told you that Mr. Alex didn't need to come over because nothing was broken.”

“That's not true. The faucet is broken.”

“Not anymore. I fixed it.”

“But you coulda called Mr. Alex—”

“Tell you what—why don't you talk to Mr. Alex for a few minutes while I finish getting ready for tonight, okay? And when Bobbie gets here, let her in.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jessica reappeared in the living room, where Alex sat on the couch, the babysitter and Scotty now outside in the backyard.

“Bobbie's here and the pizza's in the kitchen and—” Alex did a double take. “You're wearing . . . a different dress?”

Jessica's hands skimmed the skirt of her casual floral dress. “Yes, I am.”

“But why aren't you wearing the other dress?”

“Because I called my girlfriends and told them I needed to take a rain check on our dinner date tonight.”

“I-I don't understand.”

“Then I'll explain it to you. I was going to go out with my girlfriends, but then you showed up with pizza and I changed my plans. It's my birthday,
so I figured I could choose what I wanted to do, right?” Jessica slipped her feet into a pair of purple flip-flops sitting by the front door. “Now Bobbie's here, so I thought we could go for a walk and catch up with each other and then come back and reheat the pizza. If that's okay with you—”

Alex joined her by the door. “Sounds great.”

Within minutes they were walking side by side through Jessica's neighborhood. A group of kids had set up a makeshift ramp in one driveway and were practicing their skateboarding skills. An older teenage boy maneuvered a red lawn mower around the front lawn, bobbing his head to whatever music played in his headphones. The smell of fresh-mown grass filled the air.

He and Jessica walked the block, turned the corner, and continued down the next street—and still the words he wanted to say wouldn't come.

“Your air conditioner working okay?”

“I would have called your shop if it wasn't.” Jessica offered him a quick smile. “And the washing machine is running fine, too.”

“Great.” Alex searched for another easy topic. “How's work been?”

“Busy as ever. Scotty will be starting kindergarten soon, so I'll have more free time. And he's finishing up swim lessons.”

“Swimming probably tires him out.”

“You would think so, wouldn't you? But the only one who ever wants a nap is me.” Jessica took the lead in the conversation, asking an unexpected question. “So . . . did you ever figure out that big proposal for your girlfriend?”

“No. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. I've been kind of busy—”

“Honestly, Alex! You can't keep putting it off. She's going to think you don't want to marry her.”

“I don't.”

Jessica came to a complete standstill in the middle of the sidewalk. “What?”

“I don't want to marry her. And she doesn't want to marry me, either.”

“I have to admit I wasn't expecting this.”

“To be honest, neither were Caron and I.” Alex faced her, unwilling to keep walking as the conversation took a more serious turn. “But you're the one who challenged me to take care of myself, Jessica. Help myself if I couldn't help my mother. You were right about that . . . and about how my mother's drinking was affecting my relationship with Caron.”

“I'm sorry, Alex.”

“I wasn't ready to get married. I had to deal with my brother's death. My mother's drinking. My dad's unwillingness to talk about any of it—”

Jessica moved closer to him, resting her hand on his arm. “What did you do?”

“I grew up—or at least, I've started the process of growing up. I moved out of my parents' house into my own apartment. I'm seeing a counselor once a week—talking about stuff. Can't say that it's easy—‘clearing away the emotional debris that's been clogging my thinking' is the way he describes it. I'm realizing my father didn't mean to abandon me back then, although that's what it felt like. He just didn't know what else to do. I'm still trying to get the right perspective on all of it—to understand it as an adult, not a ten-year-old.”

“And growing up also meant you had to break up with Caron?”

“Caron and I are friends. We've always been friends. Always will be friends. Our parents always joked that we were
perfect for each other, but that's not a good enough reason to get married.”

“Because you're perfect for each other? You happen to be disagreeing with a lot of people, you know.”

“Not that part—getting married because our parents thought we should. You don't get married to make someone else happy. And you don't marry someone just because they'll help you keep a family secret.”

“You've talked all of this out with your counselor?”

“Yes.” Alex resisted the urge to take Jessica's hand in his. Now wasn't the time. “It's been a lot to process. Sometimes I feel like somebody volunteered me to be a test dummy for a crash course on maturity.”

Jessica laughed, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I'm sorry . . . but you've got admit the way you described it was funny.”

He laughed along with her. “I'm learning a sense of humor helps, too.”

“So what else are you learning?”

“My counselor has helped me realize when I have my own family . . . well, I don't want secrets. Surprises, yes. But no secrets.”

Alex caught his breath as they resumed their walk, allowing silence to reign between them. His heart pounded in his chest as if he'd been running a marathon, not merely strolling through Jessica's neighborhood.

“You've been doing a lot of hard work in just a month.” Jessica's words provided him with a second wind—the ability to keep going.

“I'm trying to figure out where I am with God, too. I hadn't even realized I was angry with him until my outburst with you.”

“God's big enough to handle our anger, Alex.”

“Trying to figure out what a relationship looks like when you haven't really talked to someone in a long time—when that someone is God—it's tough.”
Alex motioned for them to sit on a wooden bench on the outskirts of a small park. “I'm also learning all this talking about feelings . . . it's exhausting.”

Jessica patted him on the back. “Don't feel like you have to tell me everything today.”

“There was one more thing I've been thinking about . . . something that you said.”

“Oh?”

He'd kept this part for last—and now he wasn't sure that had been the wisest decision. They'd walked and talked. He'd worn himself out just explaining some of the basic things he'd realized about himself. About God. But now he was at the trickiest part of the conversation—the riskiest—and he didn't have any emotional reserves left if things went badly.

“Alex? You okay?”

No. He wasn't okay. But the whole reason he was here today, talking with Jessica, was to tell her this next part.

Alex twisted on the wooden bench seat so he faced Jessica. “You said that when a guy proposed to you, all you wanted was for him to show up at your door with a pizza—”

Jessica's eyes widened behind the wire frames of her glasses. “Alex!”

“Jessica, I promise you, all that's in those boxes are pizzas. Nothing more.” He covered one of her hands with his. “But I know how you value honesty, so I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm thinking here.”