Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Henry

SEEING ALEX STRIDE into the café should be the highlight of my afternoon, but today it hits me with all the foreboding of a judge's gavel.

I was playing with Poppy, who perks up at the sight of her favorite patron. The café is quiet, so when I let Alex in, the cat goes right for him. He scoops her up in his arms, and she clambers onto his shoulders, butting her head against his and purring so loudly I can hear it from here.

"You better not be here to break her heart."

It's supposed to be a joke, but Alex flinches, and that sense of foreboding deepens. I'm so heavy with dread I could anchor a ship.

"So," I say, "are you here to give me bad news?"

Alex busies himself with getting Poppy off his shoulders and trying to settle her down, but the frown that creases his face isn't a good sign.

"I'm sorry, Henry," he says. "I thought I should tell you in person. It seemed shitty to text."

"I appreciate that. Honestly, I do. Thank you. I'm sure it's not easy or comfortable doing it this way. When is your flight?"

"Tomorrow."

The word is a punch to the chest. It nearly knocks the wind out of me, but I keep my composure. We went hiking yesterday. This is all happening so quickly. One second we were holding hands on that hike, the next he's leaving forever.

My reaction must show on my face.

"You know this has nothing to do with you," Alex says. "Nothing at all. You saw…"

He lets the memory of his mother confronting us hang in the air. I can only imagine what it was like when he got home that evening. In all honesty, it's not a shock to me that he immediately booked a flight back home to San Francisco, but that doesn't make it hurt less. I'm not sure anything can make this hurt less. My feelings for him go deeper than I should have allowed when I knew how this would end the whole time.

"Anyway," Alex says, "I was hoping I could say goodbye properly. I'd like to come over tonight, if it's okay with you. If not, I understand, but I…" He glances around the mostly empty café. "There's some stuff I'd rather not say here."

Say or do? I get the impression Alex might be interested in more than a conversation, but my feelings aren't as clear as his. I don't know how I'll react to being touched by him while knowing it's probably the last time it'll ever happen.

Still, I nod and attempt a smile. "Yeah, that would be great."

"Dinner?" Alex says.

"Sure, is there anything you want?"

He shakes his head immediately. "Let me take care of it."

I agree, and Alex sets Poppy on the floor.

"She'll miss you too," I say as Poppy rubs at his legs. "Sure you can't adopt?"

He chuckles. "I wish. But…" His eyes bore into mine. "You're sure you're okay with this? I understand if you don't want to see me, if you want me to walk out that door and never bother you again. I couldn't blame you at all if that's how you feel."

My heart thuds at my chest. It's too soon. The thought of him leaving the café and vanishing is simply too soon. I can't handle it.

"No," I say. "No, I don't feel that way. I'd love to see you tonight."

A smile cracks the tension on Alex's face. I try to mimic the gesture. Maybe I even succeed.

Alex bends down to bid Poppy goodbye, then gives me one more farewell before he leaves the café. Poppy rushes to the window to watch him go, and it's all I can do not to follow her. It would be beyond embarrassing to press my face up against the glass and watch him until I can't anymore, but the temptation is strong. I won't get many more glimpses of him, and a part of me wants to store them all up and keep them somewhere precious and safe.

Damn, this hurts. It isn't even goodbye yet and it already hurts. I try to set it aside so we can have a good last night, but I finish my shift in a haze. I walk home and shower, but dress more casually this time, not stressing over looking perfect. Why should I when it's all over soon? I want to be comfortable tonight. Maybe I even need to be comfortable, need to wrap myself in familiar, soft things to dull the blow waiting for me in the morning.

I don't even clean while waiting for him, as anxious anticipation might otherwise spur me to do. I put on some reality TV competition show and wait, cuddled up on the couch with a blanket.

When he knocks on the door, I startle upright.

There's the nerves. They were lying dormant, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I hurry to the door and open it for him. Alex has a pizza in his arms, and it smells like heaven.

"I know it's not very fancy," he says, "but it's from the first place we ever, um, hung out together."

I notice him sidestep the word "date," but don't comment on it. It doesn't really matter how he labels this time we've spent together. Soon it'll be a memory that he can rewrite however he likes, rewrite until it fits his parents' designs for him.

"Let's go eat in the living room," I say. "I put on some trashy competition show."

"That's fine with me."

"We could change it to a movie if you want. I heard there's a good one on one of the streaming services."

Alex shrugs. "Sure. Whatever is good."

It feels like we're avoiding definitive statements, as though if we keep talking in probabilities then this tenuous bubble we've built together will never pop.

I put on the movie. It's some sci-fi action-y thing. I'm sure it's good, but I can't really pay much attention. I'm sure the pizza is good too. I love that little place up on Main Street. But I can barely taste it tonight. Everything is grayer, duller, flatter. I forget about the pizza after a single slice and simply curl up on the couch. Alex puts his arm around me, and I lean in against his chest. It's so easy to sink against him, enjoy his warmth, listen to his heart tap at my ear. It's so easy to stay like this and let myself drift into the comfortable fiction that this will never end.

Alex starts rubbing his thumb against my shoulder, idly at first, but with greater and greater intention as the movie drones on. Soon, it's clear neither of us are really watching anything on the television.

I twist so I can look up at Alex. The second our eyes meet, we lean in toward each other. We're turned awkwardly on the couch, but neither of us complain as the kiss deepens.

This is why we're really here. This is why he asked to come over and say goodbye tonight. This is why I said yes. Because touching him feels amazing. His hands on me send an electric current through my body. His mouth sends a wave of warmth through me that melts away every one of my cares and concerns.

I finally get sick of contorting myself and push myself up so I can settle on his thighs. His hands go to my hips, mine to his shoulders. For a moment, we sit there on the couch simply staring at each other, sharing the memory that this is the first place we ever did this — and it will also be the last.

That thought is too heavy for what tonight is supposed to be. I kiss him to banish it from my mind. He responds in kind, eager for my mouth, for my tongue, for my fingers curling in his hair. We make out sloppily, lips sliding and heads tilting to get deeper. My hips start moving on their own, my whole body ready to respond to his touch.

It's been like this since the first time we were on the couch. The second we touch we explode into action, incapable of stopping ourselves from grasping at each other. I tug his hair hard enough that he groans into my mouth, and it sends my hips rocking forward harder over him. I have no plan tonight. I'm just going, just reaching, desperate to hold onto something before he's out of my reach forever, back at his San Francisco job he doesn't even like and far from Tripp Lake, far from his parents. Far from me.

"What's wrong?" Alex says.

I don't realize I've betrayed my emotions so easily, but I'm sitting in his lap. Of course he can tell when I tense up.

"Nothing," I lie.

"Henry, if this is too much tonight…"

"It's not."

I dive back in, silencing further discussion with more bruising kisses. But no matter how hard our mouths meet, no matter how tenaciously we cling to each other, no matter how much heat blooms between us, it can't quiet the ache in my chest.

The next time we stop, it's absolutely my fault.

Alex's eyebrows knit toward each other. "What's wrong?"

Unspoken emotion corks my throat. I shake my head, looking down so I don't show him too much. Alex cups my cheek in his warm palm and encourages me to lift my gaze back up. The look in his dark eyes is pure concern, pure, gentle concern, and somehow that's harder to look at than disappointment or annoyance.

"Henry, talk to me."

I want to, I really do, but I'm afraid my voice will waver if I speak, and I really don't want that to happen. It's only been a couple weeks. I shouldn't be in this deep. He's never even done this before with another man. If he knows how deep I've allowed my feelings to go, it'll freak him out.

Then again, what does that matter? He's leaving in the morning either way. It's not like I'm going to chase him away.

"I'm sorry," I say, only a little ragged. "I'm so sorry. I wanted to do this. I wanted to see you. I wanted it all to be great. But I… It hurts to see you go, Alex, and I can't stop thinking about it."

Pain flashes across his face. "I'm really sorry, Henry. I didn't mean to make things worse by coming here. I never would have suggested it if I knew."

"I know. I really do. I believe you."

He strokes his fingers along my cheek, then brushes my hair out of my face. I let him touch me, closing my eyes for a moment, soaking up the kindness of his attention. But every beat of contact leaves ripples of sorrow in its wake. They batter me like waves wearing down stone, chipping away more of me with every reverberation.

I set my hand over his to stop him. "I'm so sorry, Alex."

I don't say the rest. I don't have to. "It's okay. Let's finish the movie, then I'll help you clean up the pizza, alright?"

I nod and climb off him. He keeps his arm around me while we finish the movie, but we don't talk or kiss. Afterward, Alex helps me pack up the leftover pizza in tinfoil and put it in the refrigerator.

"I can take the box out with me," he says as he stands at my door.

"I appreciate it."

"I'll… I'm really sorry about this, Henry," he says. "Maybe we'll see each other again some time."

It's a comforting lie, and he looks like he needs it as badly as I do.

"Maybe we will," I say.

I watch him walk away, watch him disappear into the dark, my heart aching more with every step.