32. Grace

Chapter 32

Grace

New Year's Eve

"Grace, why aren't we in bed?" Alex complained, lugging groceries into his aunt's kitchen.

"You insisted that we use this kitchen," I said, turning on the lights.

"I don't fit into yours," he grumbled.

"Not my problem that you're a giant."

"I don't see why we have to do this ourselves, we could have bought it."

"You said you wanted my peppermint bark," I said, unloading the chocolate bars onto the island. I usually use the cheap brand, but he insisted on San Francisco-based Ghirardelli.

"I thought I wouldn't get it because I lost the bet," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Although as far as I'm concerned, I still won."

His lips grazed my neck and I considered giving in to what he obviously wanted, based on the hardness pressing into my butt cheek through his jeans. What the heck was I doing baking when his flight left tomorrow?

Self-preservation, that's what this was. Pretending things were normal, ignoring that his flight left in less than 24 hours.

Returning from the Adirondack cabin, Alex simply put his suitcase into my truck. We hadn't discussed our plans, which would lead to a discussion of the imminent end. We lived in the present with blinders on like a horse racing to the finish line, full steam ahead into inevitable heartbreak.

Probably, if we were being honest, to be shot and turned into glue .

We barely left my apartment for the past two days. If it had been up to him, I'm not certain we would have put on pants until his flight was boarding. We would have stayed in bed, laughing and touching and dozing off and waking up and making love.

Because I'd had sex before, but I'd never made love until Alexander Clarke.

I wondered if the same held true for him. He'd called sex ‘utilitarian,' but there was nothing about his tender touch that felt anything but reverent.

Part of me wanted to follow his lead, to create a cocoon and ignore the world. But I knew if I let go of reality, even for only 72 hours, clawing my way out would be infinitely harder. He'd get on that plane, return to his real life, and escape into his demanding job.

But me? I'd be in my apartment with his ghost. Maybe Mallory would help me cleanse it with incense, but I wouldn't ask. It would be better to live with the phantom than the void.

So I forced him out of the house … Well, first I forced him to put on pants, then dragged him out the door. Every day, we went to yoga class together, then explored this city where he'd grown up, this city I loved. On our final morning, we strolled by the Saratoga Candy Company and the sugar scent lured him in like Pepe le Pew. When I saw the shelf of peppermint pigs, a tradition started right in their shop, I knew how we would spend our afternoon.

"Here, make yourself useful," I said, handing Alex the pig. The candy company made them in three sizes: Holly, Noel, and Clarence. Helen chose the smallest one for Christmas, but when I'd seen the one-pound chonker pig, I knew he'd be perfect. "He's almost big enough to satisfy your sweet tooth."

Alex took the pig, eyeing the tiny mallet. "This is going to take forever."

I handed him a rolling pin to crush it. He scanned the island with a scheming look, then disappeared. I was pouring the bottom layer when he reappeared wearing safety goggles and carrying a sledgehammer. He attempted to look exasperated when I laughed, though the twinkling in his eyes betrayed his mirth. "You don't think that's overkill?"

"This damn pig is keeping me from getting you naked again," he grumbled. "He'll get what's coming to him."

"Alright," I said, wrapping the candy in Ziploc bags, "but not on the granite. "

We bundled up and went out to the driveway and he took his aggression out on the pig, turning it into finely ground peppermint dust.

Back inside, I melted and spread the white chocolate layer. He dipped his finger in for a taste, then wrapped his lush lips around his finger while he looked at me with heat in his eyes. "How much longer, Grace?"

Well, wasn't that a loaded question?

"Five minutes," I estimated, not wanting to acknowledge the countdown to his flight.

He set the egg timer. "I'm holding you to that."

"Get to work, then," I said, ignoring the desire pooling in my stomach.

He meticulously sprinkled the shards of peppermint over the liquid chocolate. I slid the cookie sheet into the refrigerator and made eye contact over my shoulder.

One second, all that pent-up intensity locked on my every move.

Then the timer went off.

The next second, his arm hooked around my waist, hauling my body against him. His other hand gripped my chin, tilting my mouth to his. My hands found purchase on his neck to answer the demand. This man, who was so restrained and composed with everyone else, lost control at my touch. His tongue parted my lips, kissing the breath right out of my lungs.

His hands slid down my back to cup my butt, pulling my hips into his with a groan. He hoisted me up, carrying me to the kitchen island and resting my butt on the edge, wedging himself between my thighs. The devilish look in his eyes ratcheted my heart rate higher.

"I wanted this the last time we were here, baking all those goddamn pies," he said, as his nimble hands slid underneath my shirt, his warm mouth on my neck as he confessed. "You drove me fucking crazy with that caramel."

He separated our bodies enough to pull off my shirt and unclasp my bra. Two large hands teased my breasts, sucking and tweaking my nipples, every lick tugging on something deep inside, drawing whimpers and gasps as my back arched into his touch. "I wanted to pour it on you, lick off every last drop. I wanted to taste you everywhere. "

His hands roved over my body and I lost myself to the sensation, wishing I could write the recipe for the way his mouth tastes, to bottle it up and prevent the inevitable withdrawal. "Did you know then, what you were doing to me?"

"No," I expelled in a breath of longing. "I assumed you had a sweet tooth."

"I do," he said as his hands coasted down to my hips, tugging down my jeans, blue eyes burning bright. "And you're the sweetest I've ever tasted."

"Where do you think they got the balls?"

When I cocked a judgmental eyebrow, he realized his word choice was less than ideal.

"The courage, I mean," he corrected, gesturing from the sidewalk into Kate's art gallery where people browsed the artwork. Cruz played an acoustic guitar in the storefront window, his music pumping through an amp to the pedestrian-filled street.

It was First Night, Saratoga's New Year's Eve celebration where galleries, churches, and event spaces opened their doors. We walked around town, pausing for art installations and live musical performances, popping into bars for mulled cider or hot toddies.

For years, I'd helped Mallory organize a yoga class that started at 10:30 and ended minutes before midnight fireworks. This year she'd informed me that I was taking the night off. While I appreciated that she knew her brother's flight details, I didn't like being so easily replaced.

"Where did Mallory and Kate find the courage to start their businesses?"

"I think there are two kinds of entrepreneurs," I said. "People who want empires and those who stumble into it out of necessity."

"And which were they?" he asked.

"Necessity. Mallory calls herself unemployable and I believe it. That girl …" I shook my head, "she is not good at following directions."

He squeezed my hand. "That's why she needs you."

"At first she taught every class and grew a loyal following. Even when money was tight, she was happier than working for horrible bosses, joking that she couldn't sexually harass herself," I said. He smirked but also stiffened protectively. "But now? She might be ready for an empire."

When I shivered, he pulled me inside Kate's art gallery. I loved it here: the bold artwork against the white walls, each painting and sculpture a masterpiece. Alex put on that facade of cool indifference, like appearing unimpressed made him sophisticated. Behind his back, Kate rolled her eyes.

"Any Katherine Martino originals?" Alex asked. "Nick reminded me that on the day we met, I promised to buy one."

Kate shifted her weight. "I've never sold originals here."

"Why not? He once said your work was the most promising he'd ever seen."

"If only art critics had as much faith in my talent as your brother used to. Unfortunately," she shrugged, maybe too casually, "it's more lucrative to sell well-known artists."

Alex crossed his arms. "The offer was to buy yours."

The standoff stretched uncomfortably until Kate's assistant Bec cleared their throat. "Kate, what about the mountain? When I tried to sell it, you said that a Clarke should get the first right of refusal."

Kate assessed Alex head to toe, then nodded to Bec, who went searching in the back room. I was relieved he didn't show his cocky ‘I know I won' smile.

Cruz tuned his guitar quietly, then turned nobs on the amp. " Gacelita ? Could you pop outside for a quick sound check?"

I gave silent hand gestures as Cruz adjusted his equipment. Alex contemplatively gazed around the small Arts District at the wreaths hung on every lamp post, the lights strung between them, and the outdoor heaters on the patio of the nearby Irish pub. "Was Saratoga Springs always like this?"

I signaled to turn up the volume and asked distractedly, "Like what?"

"I don't remember it being this quaint."

Amplified from inside, Cruz announced a Foo Fighters ballad, sending a shiver down my spine with the lyrics: " I'm in the sky tonight, there I can keep by your side, watching the wide world riot and hiding out, I'll be coming home next year. "

He sang about Icarus, the hubris of flying so high his wings melted, and the downward crash to reality. Cruz arched a brow through the glass, in a silent question about the sound quality. I forced a smile and gave him a thumbs up, and he kept playing, " Take it till life runs out, no one can find us now living with our heads underground. "

Next to me, a hand reached out.

Take it till life runs out , the lyrics advised. So I slid my hand into his. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I brought my hand to his chest, swaying in a bubble around us that couldn't be breached. Pedestrians gave a wide berth as the world shrank to the two of us, clinging to scraps of time.

Cruz closed his eyes to give us privacy. I followed his example, closing my eyes and feeling Alex's strong arms encircling me, his chin dipping to rest his cheek against my hair. My palm marked his steady heartbeat. 14 hours until his flight. How many heartbeats did we have left?

" Everything's all right up here ," Cruz's voice sang out the final lyrics, " And if I come down, I'll be coming home next year ." A stillness fell over the street as the final chord echoed. I tried to pull back, but like that first night, he wouldn't let me go. His unsteady breath lifted in a cloud of vapor. I looked up at Alexander, his face a cool mask but his eyes aching with the same melancholy I felt.

When I stepped away, Alexander pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, pulled out his wallet, and dropped a twenty-dollar bill into Cruz's open guitar case. He strode confidently to the door, held it open for me, and then walked to the restroom.

Once the door clicked shut, I slumped onto an uncomfortable couch and dropped my head against the cushion. Kate approached slowly. So quiet I almost missed it, she said, "So you fell in love with him anyway."

We'd made that promise not to fall in love. It felt silly now, holding out my pinkie like kids on the last day of summer camp swearing we'd write. I'd broken the promise, sometime between the mistletoe and the cheeseburgers, but hadn't even let myself acknowledge it. What would be the point?

But Kate had asked, so I tilted my head to make sure we were alone, then nodded.

She sighed, then said in a bitter tone, "Those fucking irresistible Clarke men. "

The bathroom door opened to reveal a composed Alexander. "Did you find one?"

"We found one," Kate said and flipped around a painting of a sunrise in soft pastel tones, displaying the first blush of dawn over snow-capped mountains.

"It looks so familiar," he murmured, tapping his lip. Kate stiffened defensively until he pointed to the left side, "It's the view off the cabin deck, but this section is gone now."

Kate seemed impressed. "An ice storm took those trees down six years ago."

He pulled his bottom lip, then said decisively, "I'll take it."

"I haven't told you the price."

"You told me then I wouldn't get the friends and family discount."

"Maybe I would have been nicer if you got my name right."

"Maybe I didn't deserve the discount then."

Kate asked Bec, "How much did you plan to sell it for?"

"Five grand."

"Make it ten," Alex handed her a credit card. "Call it a 12-year storage fee."

A lightness entered the space at Alex's olive branch and Kate's unexpected sale, until Bec asked, "Where should we ship it?"

Alex's hand flinched. I excused myself, not waiting to hear his address in San Francisco.