Page 52 of Heavy Crown

The day has been excruciatingly long, the sort of day that seems to be weeks in length instead of mere hours. When I went for my afternoon walk, I caught sight of Alex being greeted by Desmond at the front entrance. It’s long past dinner, and he hasn’t called or texted.

Maybe the night before he left was the end for us. Since we can’t be more than friends, maybe he doesn’t see the point in spending time with me?

But wouldn’t he have understood the limits to our relationship when he offered his friendship?

If Alex never comes around again, he’s much smarter than me. After a week away from him, there’s a chance I’d follow him to hell if he walked through my door. Thoughts of him have invaded every aspect of my life. Despite Posey’s attempts to keep me occupied, Alex is imbedded in the soil of Bellerive. Everywhere we went I wondered if he’d been there, what he thought of the place, the activity, the people. I got so used to picking his brain every night, even if he evaded some of my questions, that I longed to turn to him and ask his opinion. He’d have one—about everything.

I run my hands through my hair and check the clock on the wall again. It’s almost midnight. He’s never texted me this late. He’s not coming. With my hands on my hips, I waffle between getting out my supplies and frustration-baking something or going to bed to toss and turn all night.

Baking.

Screw it. If I’m going to be awake anyway, I might as well make something. Brice told me last night he intends to order a sandwich on French bread on Monday when I start work, and there had better be the best French roll he’s ever tasted encasing Joyce’s, the head cook’s, sandwich artistry. I don’t doubt myself, but a trial run wouldn’t hurt.

I’m dragging the flour out of the bottom cupboard when there’s a crisp knock on my door. Leaving the cupboard open, I practically leap to the door, my heart hammering. There’s only one person who’d come here this late and knock with such authority.

Alex.

Without checking the peephole, I throw open the door and melt in a puddle at his feet. “You came,” I breathe out.

Each of his hands are braced in the doorway, a small bag dangling from his fingers. He’s in a suit again, but his tie is gone, and his hair is disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it over and over.

When I’m done cataloging him, absorbing his appearance, our gazes connect. A zip of awareness shoots down my spine. How is it possible I’ve longed for him, someone I’ve known for a week, more than I’ve missed my ex-boyfriend of two years? Seeing him again releases the tightness harnessed across my chest.

“My memory did not do you justice.” His voice is rusty, and the scent of red wine wafts toward me.

Warmth spreads across my body at the tenderness in his gaze. “You thought about me?”

“I bought something for you. May I come in?” He eases off the door to stand upright.

“You bought me something?” My stomach flutters. He thought about me while he was gone, and he bought me a present. Despite what he said before he left, all of this feels like something a boyfriend would do—or someone who wanted to be my boyfriend. This isn’t friend territory, but I’m not saying a word. Maybe I can’t ever have him forever, but I’ll take him for now.

God, will I ever take him for now.

“Do I need to give it to you to gain entrance?” He cocks his eyebrows.

I give a little laugh and step out of the way. “Sorry, I just—I thought you weren’t coming since I hadn’t heard from you.”

He sets the bag on the island and runs his hands along his face. “I’m jet-lagged, and I’m in a pissy mood. Wasn’t sure I should come.”

“Oh,” I say, and I round the island. “I have your favorite brownies, if that’ll help.”

He chuckles. “Not sure a midnight brownie is going to solve my problems this time.” He pushes the bag toward me. “Open it.”

“What’s this for?” Despite my resolution to take everything in stride, I can’t help asking.

“You had a terrible birthday, and when I saw this, it reminded me of you.” He shrugs.

I take the long box out of the bag and set it on the island. “My birthday wasn’t that terrible.” While I pry my index finger under the edge of the wrapping paper, I make eye contact with Alex and hope he understands what I’m saying without using the words. Sure my boyfriend cheated on me, and I almost died. But I also met him, and I’ll never regret that.

A hint of a smile twists his lips.

There’s no doubt it’s jewelry, and my heart thumps heavy when I lift the lid. Inside is a jade necklace. “Alex.” I clutch my hand to my chest while I suck in a sharp breath. “Oh my God. It’s so pretty.” I finger the square of jade and try not to dwell on how much it cost.

“Happy belated birthday,” he murmurs.

My stomach flips, and when he comes around the island and takes the necklace from the box, I twist my hair in my hand while he secures the clasp. Over my shoulder, our gazes connect, and we stare at each other for a beat. I want to turn in his arms, frame his face, and kiss him long and deep. Then I’d wrap my arms around his neck and drink him in, savor not just this unknown connection between us, but a physical one too. What would he do if I did it?

Reject me?