Chapter Three

Aquick stop at home lasts only long enough for Alex to grab his wallet and head back out, taking care of errands he might have done during the week, except that they seem like a good enough excuse to get out of the house now, when there would be too much to think about in the silence. He doesn't want to miss Cassidy and Elena, and he doesn't want to get lost in a love story that doesn't belong to him, and he doesn't want to think about why the last two mornings are the best he's had in a while.

Alex has had constant comfort for so long, a good life with nothing particularly wrong, and he doesn't understand how to want anything different now. Where would he even go from good? Because it seems like maybe better and worse are the only options, and he doesn't know those words outside of the vows he and Cassidy have carefully disassembled over the past several months.

What's better than everything he's had since high school?

What would this adult version of him want now, if he never thought he could have it before?

Even those two questions make him dizzy, so he keeps busy as long as he can and grabs something to eat while he's out, and he only looks at his phone long enough to make sure there's nothing that needs his attention. He has so little of it to give these days, though almost nothing demands it.

Alex continues to waste as much of the afternoon as he can, stalling until there are only a couple of hours left before Cass brings Elena home, and when the sun threatens to descend, he gives up and stacks his new books on the coffee table, going through them one by one in search of more messages. The first few have nothing out of the ordinary for him, but the fourth one he looks at catches his eye quickly, the same handwriting there.

E, it feels rather perfect to start a new book today, with the ghost of your lips still on mine. I don't believe I have all the words to express the hunger I felt after indulging in that first taste, but I dream of the impossible world in which I could be truly satisfied.

A kiss, their first even, and another message that reads like it could be a diary entry if it weren't for the earlier reference to giving each other books. It also sounds like the author and E still can't be together publicly, which has Alex's chest clenching no matter how long ago this relationship may have been resolved. He doesn't know much, but the phrasing in all the messages seems rather formal, or at least old-fashioned, which would make it possible that these are from a generation before Elijah's grandpa, and while Alex isn't sure it's fair to make many guesses about the handwriting itself, penmanship a different art form decades ago, he doesn't think the person is notably young or old. It's also probably an instinctual vibe more than anything else, but he leans toward it being a man, or maybe he's just imagining himself in this person's place, and the words as the same things he'd write to someone he loves.

Alex turns the pages, the novel itself of no importance right now, and he reads the next passage.

E, I have so many sleepless nights now, most of them when I haven't been able to see you and cannot know how safe you are, but every one of them is worth it when we're together again and I can steal enough time to make myself believe you're still mine. I can't stop worrying about what could happen if we're ever caught, and how violently people could react to this love they don't understand, but I will continue to be there with you because it's the only place I can rest while wide awake.

So, the relationship has grown, some sort of meeting place established now, though it's dangerous to be there together, and Alex doesn't know why it hadn't struck him before, but he wonders if maybe one of them is black, kept apart before the civil rights movement had the chance to bring them together.

He picks up his phone to text Elijah and ignores the slight shake of his hand.

Found another book

The response comes far more quickly than Alex expects.

Yeah awesome. Still to e?

Yep. Questions. Any e somewhere older than grandpa? Great grandparents? Any interracial couples?

Shit yeah my gg was evelyn. Never knew her. Died a long time ago. No interracial I know of why?

Still sounds like they're hiding. Kissed but all secret and worried about being caught

It takes a few minutes before his phone sounds again, and Alex tries not to hold his breath as he continues to flip through the book in search of anything else. He needs to get up and make something for dinner, Elena set to arrive shortly after that, but then he finds the next message just as a new text appears.

Wow ok. Hey about to head to work but you can send questions whenever

You sure

Very. Have a good night

Ok you too

He sets the phone aside and reads from the page in his lap.

E, I am so sorry, darling. I've been ill and at home and so far from you, and I can only hope you will be back to take this book from me when I've finally returned to my office again. And perhaps I can dream of seeing relief in your eyes rather than the reluctance our relationship might deserve. If there is anything certain, it's that I would give anything to have you here with me, the chill unbearable without your love to keep me warm.

Alex finds himself more overwhelmed by his concern for an illness that has long passed than he is amused by the absolute corniness of that last line. It's romantic enough, but sticky sweet, and he just wishes he had any of E's notes to confirm how each of these was received. And he certainly hopes there are more messages to come—that whatever kept them apart didn't do so forever.

He really, really needs to get up now, but he also needs to read at least one more message, and he sighs with relief when he finds it in another margin.

Oh, E, seeing you tonight was the very greatest pleasure, the breath passed between us enough to keep me alive until the day I can give it all back again. It almost felt like we kissed so long that the night could have led us straight into the next. I only wish we could be together elsewhere, my gratitude for our shadows waning when I know there are empty rooms here at my home. When there is so much time we're still not allowed to claim as ours. Touches that remain forbidden.

And with that, knowing that their journey goes on, Alex tells himself it's okay to close the book for a while. He can't talk to Elijah about anything right now anyway, and Elena will arrive soon, so he makes a couple of trips upstairs, the stacks of books in his arms, and he piles them next to his bed for later.

He returns to the kitchen and heats up a frozen burrito that would make half his family weep, then grabs some chips and salsa too, and he's just cleaning up afterward when he hears the doorbell. Cassidy still has a key, as does his daughter, but there are new boundaries in place even when he hasn"t requested them, and none of these custodial trade-offs come with opening doors without permission, no matter how easily it will be granted.

"Hey, guys, come on in," he says.

Elena rolls her mini suitcase into the house, her backpack loaded too, and she pauses only long enough for a quick thumbs up, high five, hi dad, bye dad, before she's off to her bedroom without a need for an entire conversation, Alex confident that she'll have plenty to tell him later. Cassidy, though, stays on the front porch, the light leaving her halfway lost to the shadows.

"Thanks, but I'm just gonna get going." She takes a step backward, but tilts her head, only the smallest smile on her lips. "You look—rested. Calm, maybe. Did you do anything special this weekend?"

And Alex is so close to telling her the whole story—about the garage sales and the books and the messages and Elijah—and he knows he would have at literally any other time over the past two decades of his life, but something makes him swallow it now, for the privacy of two people he's never met, and maybe just a tiny bit of his own.

"Went for a couple of early morning walks, and I think they were good for me."

She nods. "Looks like. Guess maybe that should become a new habit, huh?"

"That or something like it," he agrees.

"Okay, well, I'll see you next Sunday at my place, then."

Cassidy turns and walks away without waiting for him to reply, always willing to rip bandages off where he might take forever to let them fall on their own. Back inside the house, Elena has changed into her pajamas and wrapped herself in her hooded wolf blanket, and she's ready to join him on the couch for their newly formed custom of watching TV together before she goes to bed. Alex thinks it's as good a time as any to mention the new things he's bought her, but as was true a few minutes ago, he can't quite bring himself to do it, all the parts of the story blurring into one. Instead, he and his daughter sit with their sides pressed together, Elena almost certainly about to pick out one scary show or another—I'm just getting us ready for spooky season, dad—and Alex wonders whether there's something better about already knowing this time with her is something he'll only have for a while, until she gets older or simply adjusts to living in two places at once. Whether there's a comfort in understanding there aren't promises to him she can break, because every vow has only come from him as her father.

Then he thinks back to whether he's ever taken the time to promise himself anything at all.

He doesn't have an answer, but he isn't sure he can work on that many new habits at once anyway.

When they're done downstairs, he and Elena head up to bed at the same time, and he tucks her in as soon as she"s finished brushing her teeth and she's snuggled beneath her covers, ready for another week of school. He's ready for another week too, maybe for the first time in a while, but when he looks down at the books he'd set on his bedroom floor earlier, he doesn't bend to pick any of them up, content to work on a crossword puzzle and then turn off his light early, daydreams an indulgence his entire life and gentle when they carry him off to sleep now.

Alex doesn't worry about where they lead, and maybe he should.

The next morning, it doesn't seem to matter that Alex is an early riser, and that Elena isn't exactly terrible about waking either. It's a Monday through and through, and everything feels rushed when it shouldn't, and hectic when there is no reason for them to mess up something they've done so many times before. Even with his precious coffee in his hand, Alex feels rocked by chaos until they run out the door and he drives Elena to school, and he thinks he's only barely settled by the time he gets back home, finishing the rest of his own morning routine and another half a mug before he's back in the car and on his way to his office.

His work schedule has been flexible for a while and he's eternally grateful for it, able to get Elena to school the weeks he has her before he heads into the office for a few hours, usually through lunch meetings, then back home to be far more productive there, working remotely while his only break is when he picks Elena up again. She's always been good about allowing him to work in relative peace, hurrying to finish her homework at the new desk he bought her so she could feel like a little professional herself, and they can both breathe easy again by the time he"s almost done making dinner.

"Hey, I forgot to tell you last night," Alex starts, his white lie worth it when he can speak without tripping over anything that might have slowed him down the night before. "I found a garage sale over the weekend and bought some books and games for you. I think most of the books are duplicates, but—"

"But that way I can have copies here and at mom's?"

"Exactly," he says. "And I think all the games are new, so we can keep them here."

"Can I go see what you got?"

Alex shakes his head. "I just took the lasagna out of the oven, and we're ready for you to set the table. You can check everything out after dinner."

They sit down to eat about five minutes later and Elena tells him all about her day at school, including her devastating loss in a new quiz game about fractions and the two songs her class will learn for a fall assembly, plus she catches him up on all the recess drama he missed hearing about last week while she was with Cass. He has a question every now and then, but she's never been shy about sharing and isn't all that interested in waiting for him to keep up his side of anything. At some point, he hears his phone chime with a handful of alerts—emails or texts or whatever breaking news the world wants him to know—but Alex isn't in a hurry to walk away from the best kid he knows, and they continue to talk until Elena eventually drops her fork onto her plate with a satisfied grin.

She doesn't have the same need to cling to time, and she's out of her seat and clearing the table the second he lets her go.

With a sigh, Alex follows her into the kitchen with his own dishes, then wanders over to his phone and swipes away a couple of notifications before he sees a text from Elijah.

Found books here. 2 so far. Think it's my great grandparents. Confused though

Shit, okay. Alex hasn't looked through any of the books since yesterday, caught up in everything else that's kept him busy since Elena returned, but what Elijah's saying is enough to get his heart pounding again.

Confused how? Are the messages written to E or by E?

By.The immediate answer leaves Alex's eyes wide, wondering whether Elijah had kept his phone close waiting for Alex this whole time, but he doesn't have a chance to respond before Elijah goes on. Kind of a long story. Can you meet up tonight or tomorrow? I'm off work

Sorry can't. It's my week with my daughter. Could call you later if that's ok. Or you could call me.

There's no answer right away, and Alex can't tell whether he's messed something up without knowing how, turning down the invitation to hang out with Elijah and offering to talk and wanting all of it even while the silence suggests Elijah's no longer as close to his phone as he was a minute ago. Alex looks up at the sound of familiar footsteps then, Elena running into the room with a game in her hand.

"Can we play? Pretty, pretty please?"

"All your homework's done?" he asks, the glance at his phone automatic when it makes a sound.

Don't want to bother you

"Yeah, it was done before dinner."

"Okay, go ahead and get it set up at the table," he tells her. "I'll be in there in a minute or two."

When she scampers off, Alex taps out another text.

Not a bother at all I promise. Want to talk just can't meet up this week.

Sure you're ok with calling me later?

Yeah of course

Nothing else happens after that, so Alex joins Elena at the dining room table for a few rounds of a game that had been only vaguely familiar to him when he'd bought it from Elijah, the two of them fiercely competitive, even as he teaches her how to be a good sport whether she wins or loses. There's a bit of an argument when he tells her it's time for bed, but he thinks she's too tired to fight it for long, and she trudges upstairs with nothing else to say, and he gets the game put away with the others.

About a half hour later, after his daughter is on her way to sweet dreams, Alex is in sweatpants and a t-shirt, sitting on his bed with several books around him, some of which he still hasn't opened. Then he takes a deep breath and taps on the name in his most recent messages.

"Hey," Elijah says. "Sorry if I—sometimes I forget what normal schedules are like."

"No, it's fine. I think mine's only half normal anyway. I don't keep bartender hours, but I only have Elena here every other week, so—I don't know."

"So maybe—never mind, I—"

"No, it's okay, you can—" Alex promises.

"No," Elijah interrupts back. "It's just—I'm not so great over the phone. That whole charm thing you gave me shit about kinda works better in person."

Alex chuckles, relatively sure that Elijah can out-charm him anywhere, but grateful he's not the only one convinced he's bad at this. "I'll keep that in mind then. And how about you just tell me what you found in your books?"

"Yeah, okay. So, I remembered I kept a few books for myself, ones that my grandpa used to read to me when I was younger. They were from the same group as the ones you bought. Or from the same shelves of his, I guess, so I decided to look through them."

"And you found messages written by E?"

"I mean, I'm assuming yes. They're not signed or anything, but it's different handwriting from what you showed me, and they're addressed to P, which would fit with your theory."

"Because P was your great grandfather?" Alex asks.

"Yeah, Peter. And I know he was made partner at some big law firm, and a couple of the notes talk about walking past the firm or something like that, so maybe that lines up. Plus, my great grandparents writing notes back and forth would track with the books being kept in the family. She died not long after my grandpa was born, so I don't know much about her, but my grandpa was always close to his father, and I have some vague memories of my great grandfather. I think he died when I was around 10 or so. Anyway, it would make sense that my grandpa would hold on to his father's books and read to me from them."

Alex nods to absolutely nobody, the walls of his bedroom uninterested in the conversation, though his cheeks are flushed. "Okay, but you said something is confusing?"

"Yeah, I—I just don't get what's up with the implication that their love was forbidden," Elijah explains. "They were both from wealthy families, back when that was important to everyone, and then they married young and started their family, and I never heard any stories about that being a bad thing."

"What did you mean when you said the mention of the law firm maybe lines up? It sounds good to me."

"Well, I'd have to ask my mom more about it probably, but my great grandfather wouldn't have been very old when he first got together with my great grandmother—like, at all—so while it's possible he worked at the law firm back then, I'm not sure he would've been as important there as these notes from E make it sound."

"Weird," Alex huffs. "Maybe we have to go back another generation?"

"Maybe. I really don't know. Maybe it has nothing to do with me."

"So, we keep reading until we figure it out?"

Elijah hums. "And even if we don't figure it out, at least we get a nice love story out of it."

They're quiet for a few seconds, and somehow it's not as awkward as Alex still thinks it should be, this conversation with someone he only barely knows, but wants to talk to more. He has friends at work, of course, or maybe they're only serendipitous acquaintances of circumstance. He distantly keeps in touch with a group of people from college, except that he was already well into his relationship with Cassidy in those days, so most of those people are her friends too, which isn't bad, but won't do much for him right now. He knows most of his neighbors by sight, and a few by name, but they don't hang out socially, and really, Alex wouldn't know where to begin with that anyway.

But he met Elijah and talking to him has been easy and now they have a reason to talk more, if either of them wants that. If Elijah doesn't already have plenty of friends of his own. If Alex isn't setting himself up for a quick failure chaser after a drink he's nursed too long. But back when they were texting earlier in the night, Elijah had invited him to meet up, so maybe—maybe it's not that much of a stretch to think that Alex has met someone who could be a friend, right when he needs one most.

"We should read more of the notes," Alex starts. "But it would probably be good to put them together to see if we can figure out the back and forth. Or not, if you—I wouldn't want that to be uncomfortable for you."

"Which part?"

Which part? Alex doesn't know what that means and definitely isn't brave enough to ask.

"I mean, it's your family, right? Or it probably is. I just don't want to be creepy about something they kept so private."

Elijah laughs. "If it was about my parents, I'd probably bail because yeah, no. But this is pretty far back, and I don't think I'm in danger of major trauma."

"Okay, so then if you wanted to meet up next week—are you always off on Mondays and Tuesdays?"

"I am, yeah. Or usually, anyway, and I—" Elijah clears his throat and Alex waits. "Meeting up then would be good. Did you just want to come to my place or—"

He trails off and Alex wants to give him time to say more, but everything is both quiet and loud and he doesn't like it either way, his voice shakier than it should be when it splits the difference.

"Or you can come here. Whatever's easiest for you. Although, you've got—or wait, I guess Poe must be okay hanging out alone every night when you're at work? But I mean, if you don't—I can always—"

"No, it's okay, I—my neighbor. She sort of—" Elijah cuts himself off, though Alex is far from impatient. "It's a long story, but Poe's totally fine when I'm not here."

"So, you'll come here then? That's okay with you?"

It sounds stupid, all of it, but Alex doesn't know how to do this, even if he wishes it didn't have to be that way. He sounds like he did when he first asked Cassidy to go see a movie with him and not at all like someone who just wants to comb through old books for notes scribbled in margins.

"More than okay, yeah," Elijah agrees. "And do you think—I mean, should we just wait before we read anything else? How much self-control do you have?"

Alex doesn't know how to tell him his entire life has been self-control, comfortable and careful and not a single risk taken, nor any corners cut. He's waited forever for everything, and while he's intently curious now, maybe about so much more than he should be, a week is really nothing at all.

"I can wait if you can."

"Sure," Elijah says, and Alex swears he can almost hear a smile. "Whenever you're ready."