Page 50 of Never Let You Go

“Get a broom and a mop.”

“Yup. On it.”

He bends over to where I’m crouched on the floor. “Alexandra. Hey. Come here.” He pulls on my elbow to lift me up and walks me out. I wipe the tears on my shoulder. Once in the kitchen, he rolls up my sleeves while leading me to the sink, where he opens the faucet.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Isaac asked—”

He taps my forehead and says, “What’s going on in here, and in here,” he continues, tapping the approximate area of my heart, which incidentally, is awfully close to my breast. Then both his hands wrap around my shoulders, and he gives them a quick rub.

Then leaves them there.

I sigh deeply. I just want to lay against him.

I fight the urge, close my eyes, and turn the faucet off.

“I’m sorry, I’m—”

“You’re exhausted. It’s normal.” He rubs my shoulders again, and god it feels good. “Anything different, I’d think you’re superhuman. You take the rest of the day off, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “First I need to clean up the bakehouse.”

“No you don’t.”

“I made a mess.”

“It’s on them and they know it. The tray was sticking out. It shouldn’t have been. No big deal. Plenty of time to make more cookies.” And his hands rub between my shoulders.

“Macarons,” I whisper.

He chuckles. “Whatever.” He pulls my cap off and tucks some hair behind my ear and ohmygod it’s borderline erotic.

With a final squeeze of my shoulders, he sends me off.

“Take it easy,” Emma says from behind her laptop.

Shit. I have a meltdown, of course miss perfection would witness it.

thirteen

Alexandra

On our way to Game Night, Grace and I spot Skye and Christopher’s silhouettes on The Green. Christopher is effortlessly ice-skating backwards in front of Skye. A delicious scent of hot chocolate and sugar comes from a small hut decorated like a ginger house next to the skating rink. Kids are lined up and leave with steaming cups and waffles. “Aunt Grace! Alek-zandra! Look!” Skye’s high-pitched voice calls out. We make a detour to join them, and Skye proceeds to race around the rink, upper body leaned forward, hands clutched to the small of her back.

Skye hurls herself to the railing, ducks under it, and talks Grace into taking her to the sugar hut. Christopher’s eyes fleet to his daughter and cousin walking away, then he skates to me, eyes on mine. “Going to Game Night?” he says as he comes to an abrupt stop in front me. He’s wearing nothing but jeans, a ski sweater, and a beanie pulled down to his ears, hair curling out of it.

I clench my thighs and nod.

“I like that for you, Alexandra.”

Um… Okay?

He bends over the railing, like he’s about to tell me a secret.

I lean into his space. His warm space.

“I hear Cassandra is something of a witch,” he says. “Throws spells and shit. Make sure you don’t… you know… knock down a tray or something. Retaliation and all that.”

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