26. Just The Way You Are

CHAPTER 26

JUST THE WAY YOU ARE

BILLY JOEL

I put my bag and the pie on the ground before I knock, and then I wait. I almost told her I love her on the phone and ever since then I've been a jittery mess. It's like my brain and my heart are arguing over what the hell I'm doing. I can't tell which one is winning. The second she opens the door, I wrap around her, lifting her off the floor and holding her as tight as I can. At first, she hesitates, but it doesn't last long and soon she's got her arms around my neck and she's holding me just as tight.

We say nothing because it's not the time to. Right now is the time for her to know I'm real and I'm here. She doesn't need to fight these demons—real and in her head—alone. Once she understands that, it will be time for pie and probably tears. I walk her in and sit her down on the couch.

"Forensic Files?" I roll my eyes playfully as the overly dramatic voice tells me about some egregious error made by a guy in the late 80s.

"Comfort television?" Lexi shrugs.

I chuckle as I go through the house and turn off the lights, making sure the blinds are all shut. Before she can close her laptop, I catch a glimpse of the screen. "What's that?" At first I figured it was part of the project when I saw my name, but then the graphic caught my eye.

She bites her lip as she turns the computer toward me so I can see it better. "Your business cards kind of suck."

I don't even try to hold back the laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, they do."

"Sometimes I design things when I'm stressed out. It helps me focus and relax. What do you think?" She redesigned the whole card, and it's beautiful. Instead of the boring, basic card I had, she's got colors, graphics, and better fonts. "I can change the logo if you want, but I thought it was a nice personal touch. Might help market yourself better." It's a camera aperture with a blue rubber ducky in the middle, just like the ones that fell out of my Jeep at the beach.

"I fucking love it, Angel. It's brilliant." Her giant smile makes my heart flutter.

She closes the screen and goes to put the laptop down, but there's no room. A whole pie, forks, two wine glasses, a large iced coffee milk tea with boba, and two unmarked bottles of wine cover the table and she looks up at me, confused.

"Pie and a horror movie?"

"Yeah, I think I need that."

I take the wine bottle and unscrew the top. I'd make some joke about screw top bottles and being a classy guy, but this stuff isn't cheap. I hand her the bottle so she can check it out while I flip through movies. She sniffs at it and instantly her lips purse and pull to one side while her nose scrunches up. I can't tell if she hates it or just isn't sure what the scent is. "It's blackberries. I have a thing for sweet wines. A friend of mine makes it. Well, he was a friend of my dad's and once a month he still drops off a couple of bottles. These were for Chase, and I had to promise him the next batch to pry them away."

"So I'm about to be drinking Chase Cooper's bottles of free homemade wine?"

"Sort of free. Carl has it in his head that he still owes them to my dad for some job my dad did for him or something. I've told him he's got nothing to worry about, but he insists. It's his way of keeping the tradition going. I get free wine dropped off once a month. He gets to sit on the back porch, reminisce about my dad's life, and complain about his kids for an hour or three while we get high."

"Reminisce about your dad? I don't understand."

I sit beside her and caress her cheek, working myself up to say the words I try hard to avoid. "Lexi, my dad…he died six months ago. Car accident."

"Oh my god! Jamie, I didn't…oh I should have, though. I should have known by how you talk about him. I thought…"

"It's okay, Angel. I'm shit at talking about it still, and tonight I'm here to take care of you, not me. So drink up and scoot over."

She takes a cautious sip. As I watch, her eyebrows shoot up and her tongue slides across her lips. I should focus on how fucking hot that is, but I realize that's the second time I've talked about my dad without feeling like I'm walking the edge of a downward spiral. Both times have been when I'm with her. I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger on her neck.

"This…this is really good."

"Glad you like it, beautiful." She blushes. I desperately want to kiss her, to taste that blackberry wine on her lips. Instead, I turn back to the TV and pull up the movie we started the other night. "Wanna watch this again since we fell asleep last time?"

"Yeah, it's kind of my comfort movie. I've seen it like ten times."

"Comfort movies go well with pie and wine on crappy nights. Even if they are about a cannibal abducting women." We laugh together as we snuggle on the couch. I bought a whole damn pie, and it's sitting on her lap as I feed both of us while we watch. It's about halfway through the movie when she's finally comfortable enough to talk.

"I've never actually told anyone about him. Well, I did, but they assumed I was lying, so I've never told anyone like friends or anything." I nuzzle the side of her head and she sniffles. "Can…can you tell me about your dad? He just sounds like such an amazing guy. I'd rather listen to you tell me about him than go through my issues right now. If that's okay."

She hands me the bottle and I take a long drink.

"Well, I, uhm, I haven't figured out how to talk about him and the accident yet. Not really."

"I shouldn't have asked that. I'm not sure why I?—"

"It's alright, Lexi, I promise. I get it, you're in a shit spot and you need some kind of comfort. And me telling you about my dad might bring you some. He'd have been honored. Helping people was his thing."

"You don't have to say anything. I know what it's like, losing someone like that."

"No, it's…Angel, I can't tell you that you and your secrets are safe with me, or that you can trust me with your experiences if I'm reluctant to do the same with you. That's not how relationships work. Or at least I hope not." I take another long drink before handing her the bottle, afraid I'll drink too much before I get this out. "I should be able to talk about it now. It's been six fucking months."

"Why? There a time limit on grief and grieving that I never learned about?"

That gets me to smile, which helps me relax a little. She pauses the movie and turns around so she's facing me, giving me all of her attention. It might have been easier when I wasn't staring at her, but I can't say that.

"He was on his way back from a charity art show. He did a lot of those, this one for Carl, actually. Dad had donated a bunch of paintings to an auction for kids who needed mental health treatment. Usually, I went to the shows and helped him setup, but this was one I didn't go to. He was leaving the studio to go get cleaned up and ready, and when he noticed how focused I was, he told me to stay home and keep working. He said I was too in the zone. He probably came back out to tell me he was headed out, but I never heard him."

"He texted around midnight to say the event was a big hit. He said there was a guy he met there who might be interested in working with me on an installation. I didn't see the text because I was still working on that piece. I worked on it till I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore and crashed out on the couch. I did that pretty often."

"I was sleeping in the studio when someone started banging on the front door so loud I could hear it all the way in the back of the house. It's all a little surreal, like I knew it was going to be the last time I locked up the studio somehow. I could tell something was off because Dad wouldn't be knocking at 2 in the morning. If he did, he'd have knocked on the studio because he'd have known I'd still be out there."

I don't even realize I'm crying until she wipes the tear from my face. That breaks open the dam, even though I try to hold it back. I struggle through the rest of the story, trying not to break down any further.

"He, uhm, got hit on the freeway. A semi truck driver fell asleep. Carl wasn't far behind him and saw the whole thing happen. I think that's part of why he still brings the wine over, guilt. I never blamed him or anything; he even got out and tried to help, but there wasn't anything he could do. Once the cops got there and took his statement, he came right to the house to tell me. He wanted to make sure someone was there for me, since he knew about my past and was real tight with Dad. He didn't want me finding out from some random badge that pretended to care."

My fingers trace down the bottle of wine. "I remember the look on Carl's face when I answered the door that night. I'll never forget it. I haven't been back in the studio since."

It's the first time I've been able to tell the entire story to anyone. I gave Chase bits and pieces along the way, the same with Steve, and they pieced the rest together. It's something of a relief to get it out, like a piece of the burden has lifted. I just hope I didn't give that piece to Lexi. She has enough on her own. I guess that's the point, though, sharing it so someone else can do the heavy lifting for a bit.

"What was your dad like?"

"You know how people are always saying how the deceased was always a nice guy and everyone liked him? Then you dig into the story more and realize they were assholes who never did a damn bit of good their whole life? Dad was the guy who actually was nice and everyone really did like him. He did his best taking care of a kid who was basically mute for almost ten years, was always there for me, and I sure as hell wasn't ready to let him go."

"He sounds like he would have gotten along great with my dad. Although that's just me remembering him as a kid." She presses her forehead to mine. "Your dad got to see you grow up, and I bet he was, and still is, proud of you for growing up to become such a warm, caring, wonderful man."

I shake my head slowly. "He liked to say he was. Every day before I leave to go somewhere, even to the kitchen, he'd stop me and tell me he was proud of me and he loved me. Not many people do that. I don't understand how he could be proud of me right now, though."

"What? Why not?"

I stare holes in the flooring, not sure how to say any of this. Lexi is like truth serum in human form. Whenever I'm around her, I get this deep desire to tell her everything I can. I guess my brain wants to see if she's ready for what my heart wants to tell her. Give her the opportunity to run away. Let her go before she realizes how much she regrets ever meeting me. The problem is, I'm not ready to lose her, but I can't stop telling her about me.

"What's there to be proud of?"

"Jamie." Her voice pulls at my heart. I glance up and meet her eyes. "I promise I won't go anywhere. I don't think there's anything you could tell me that you've done that would make me change my mind because…because…you're a wonderful guy and I really, really like you."

"You're the only good thing I've got going for me." She holds my hand and I decide it's better to tell her now than to draw this out. It won't be getting better. "I've essentially lost every dime I have because of my mother and sister. I'd have lost the house by now if Carl, Chase, and a few other people Dad knew didn't come to my rescue. I'm close to giving up on…everything—or I was till I met you. I've already given up on painting, drawing, everything to do with art, except the photography. The passion I didn't share with dad is the only one I can keep doing now that he's gone.

"If it wasn't for Sam throwing me a job now and then because he feels bad for me, I'd be living in my Jeep. I, uhm, I had started to make plans to leave. No idea where I was going. Not sure how long. I won't sell his art, even though it would make enough money to pay off the house and more. I won't donate it, like he asked me to if anything ever happened. I've stopped working with every charity he was part of. I've…given up."

"Sweetie, Sam doesn't throw jobs at you because he feels bad. You're a damn talented photographer. Everything you're describing? That is all part of grieving."

"No, I've always just been a cranky, anti-social, mentally unstable fuck up. Haven't done anything right since I was born, except to ruin one life after another. After he died, I found out he basically sold his soul to the devil for me. All that talent, all that light, hidden away because of a fuckup like me." I take a shaky breath and add, "I should have been in the car with him."

I close my eyes so I don't have to see her. "I understand if you don't want to keep seeing me. I can… I can talk to Sam, get you someone else to work with. Someone who isn't a useless asshole. I shouldn't even be here. You have a beautiful mind and so much potential, you shouldn't be wasting your time on a broke loser like me."

"A broke loser wouldn't have come here to comfort me after I told him not to."

Her hands are cool against my face, and I want to sink into them. "I'm sorry," my voice is barely a whisper, "I'm sorry, Lex. I came here to help you and I made it all about me and my shit. I didn't mean to?—"

"When I was eighteen, we were living with my aunt and she threw us a little party with some of our friends. She invited my mother, who, of course, brought Ronnie with her. At some point, I went upstairs to get something from my room—I don't even remember what it was now. I could hear noises coming from inside—whispering and other noises I didn't understand. When I stepped in, I found Ronnie. He had my best friend—my fucking girlfriend —bent over my desk, her pants around her ankles and his hands up her shirt, fucking her. I tried to run, but he caught me by the hair and pulled me back."

"I heard my girlfriend telling me over and over that it was no big deal and not to tell anyone while Ronnie dragged me over to the bed. He threw me down and climbed… he climbed on top of me. He told my girlfriend it was okay, and that he had a special present for me and to…to hold my hands down. He…he?—"

I pull her head down on my shoulder and rock her gently.

"Bex came upstairs later and found me in the bed crying. He told me he'd do it to her next if I told anyone."

"You didn't tell anyone because you wanted to keep your sister safe."

"I tried to tell. I tried to talk to a counselor. That's when I realized what kind of reach Ronnie had as a preacher in such a big church. I couldn't trust anyone. I dropped out of the college I had applied for and begged Bex to move with me, so we did. He's made more passes at me since then, groped me, threatened me." She swallows hard and lowers her head. "I never kicked him in the balls and he never really stopped."

"It's not your fault, Angel. None of it," I try to assure her, although I'm not sure she believes me. "After the move, did you tell your sister?"

"No. I told her what I told you, mostly as a warning to stay away from him. She's my twin, though. She probably knows I'm lying."

"Does he still…touch you?"

"It stopped after he found out I was in therapy—well, stopped for a while. A few months ago, I was at their house and a migraine hit. I have medication I take for them and my mother got it for me. He wasn't home, so I went into the spare room to lie down for a few minutes. I ended up falling asleep, and when I woke up he was…he was standing over me and the blanket had been pulled back. I'd been asleep for three hours. My medication never did that before."

"Alexis—"

"Tonight…one of the older women at the church said there was going to a be wedding. She was so excited about it, saying how lucky I am and how wonderful this new pastor is. Jamie, I think my parents are going to try to force me to marry the new pastor somehow. How would they…how could they do that? She…she made it sound like I was pregnant, talking about my condition."

Rage like I've never known fills me, but before I can react, she moves against me again, curling up on my chest and pulling my arms around her. "I don't want to work with anyone else, Jamie. I don't want to see anyone else. We're still learning about each other and I'm sure there are more skeletons hidden away for us to find, but at least we got some of the big ones out of the way. I hope."

"There's got to be something we can do. A restraining order or something."

"I'm not sure what to do because I'm fucking afraid of him. Of both of them. I didn't want to lose my mom, but if she's part of this…" her voice trails off. "Can…can you just hold me for a little while?"

"Always, Angel." I hug her closer, leaving kisses against her hair. "Alexis, you're my muse. You're the light I never expected to get back in my life. I'm going to do everything I can to protect you, take care of you, and make you happy. I promise. I promise I'll try not to fuck this up like the loser I am."

"You're not a loser, Jamie. To me, you're a beautiful person, with too much care and worry in your heart. Your father would have been proud to see you still here, still trying. He'd be proud of you for listening to me. He is proud of you, and so am I."

She blindly wipes the tears from my face, then laces her fingers into mine. "Lexi?" my voice cracks.

"Yeah?" She looks up at me, and instantly, I'm drunk on those whiskey eyes and there's no doubt left in my mind.

"I… it hasn't been… I mean, I know we're still—Fuck it. Alexis Strauss, I have fallen madly and totally head over heels in love with you and I don't care if I'm a hopeless romantic or jumping the gun. I don't care that it's only been days. I love you, Cherry Blossom."

"You do?"

"I very much do. You're so beautiful and brilliant and kind. You're perfect, and you're more than I've ever wanted and way more than I deserve. You don't have to?—"

"I love you, too, James!" She shouts, twisting her body so she's hovering over me. Her lips brush against mine. "I wasn't sure, but after tonight, after all this…I'm in love with you. You're beautiful, too."

The wine on her lips tingles against my tongue as our mouths slot together. It's soft and sweet. It's slow and meaningful. Each time our lips touch, it becomes a little more intense, a little harder, until I pick her up and carry her into the bedroom.