Page 2 of Love Redesigned
Still, family was family. I keyed out a quick response, confirming the restaurant and time.
When the bell above Java Jean’s front door jingled, I didn’t even look up. But then I heard a voice that made the blood in my veins run New York-winter cold.
“I completely understand. I’ll take care of it right away. Right. Sounds good,” the voice said.
I gripped the edge of the counter, grateful it was there to hold me up. Because hearing Alex Randall’s voice? That was enough to put me flat on the floor.
Chloe leaned toward me. “Dani? You okay?”
I forced a breath in through my nose, and out through my mouth. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe it was some other Southern guy that justsoundedlike him. Some other guy who didn’t have wavy chestnut hair or perfect brown eyes or an incredible dusting of freckles across perfectly chiseled cheekbones. I closed my eyes, a sudden swell of anger surging to the surface, making my skin feel hot, prickly. I could envision those eyes like it was yesterday. Like it hadn’t been twelve agonizing months since he’d left New York. Since he’d leftme.
I snuck a brief glance over my shoulder, my heart tripling its speed as soon as I determined thatyes,the one and only Alex Randall was standing less than ten feet away from me. At once I felt both elated to see him again—I’d loved the man, after all—and furious that he felt like he had any right to place himself within a one-hundred-mile radius of where he knew me to be. Java Jeans was my territory. Maybe he’d introduced me to the place, but he’d ceded it when he’d left. He was the guilty one. The heartbreaking, dream-crushing, soul-stabbing, vanishing act that had nearly been my undoing.
A year-long relationship and he’d left without even sending a text.
If not for my job at LeFranc, and my close friends rallying around me, I might have left New York altogether, but I couldn’t have run home even if I’d wanted to.Homewas where Alex had gone. If I had tucked tail and gone to Charleston, it would have looked like I was running tohim.
Alexander Ellison Randall III had eased into my life with the grace you might expect from someone named like they belonged in the pages of a Civil War-era romance novel. We’d met at a fancy party on the Upper East Side where anyone who was anyone in fashion was in attendance. From the cultured southern accent that made me feel homesick and at home all at the same time, to his stories of spending his summers in New York with his stepfather, the legendary Alicio LeFranc who I’d idolized since childhood, it hadn’t taken me more than a minute to fall for him.
I couldn’t stand there gripping the Java Jean’s counter forever.
I had to face him. Unless I wanted to vault over the cash register and belly crawl my way to the backroom. And there was no way my guipure lace was belly crawling anywhere. Taking one last breath, and willing my nerves to calm, I turned around.
We made eye contact. At once, I was grateful I’d heard him come in, that I’d at least had a few seconds to prepare. I’d clearly caught him by surprise; the shock of the moment was written all over his face. He froze, his jaw hanging open, and his cell phone, once secure in his hand, clattered to the tile floor at his feet.
He scrambled to pick up his phone, wiping it on his sleeve before quickly dropping it into the inside pocket of his suit coat. Andoh,what a suit. The color was good. Blue, not too bright, just bold enough to give him an edge over the more conservative grays and blacks. The fabric was expensive, the tailoring impeccable. His tie was great. Silk. Purple. And his shoes?Sweet tea and cornflakes.Medallion toe oxfords in a rich brown leather I immediately wished I could touch. I’d forgotten how good he made clothes look.
“Hi,” I managed to say.
For all the scrambling I’d witnessed seconds before, he recovered quickly and was suddenly as poised and polished as ever. “Hey, Dani,” he said, the words smooth and soft. “It’s great to see you.”
I admired and hated him in the same second for having such control over his emotions.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. Not many people made Southern sound as good as he did.
“What are you doing here?” I realized as soon as the words left my mouth how filled with hurt they sounded and I hated myself for being so transparent.
He dropped his eyes and I winced. He’d picked up on it too.
“Work,” he said. “I’m just here for a few days.”
“Work,” I repeated, curious about what that actually meant. Accounting work? Something different?
He’d been an accountant at LeFranc right up until the week we’d broken up, the same week he’d left the city altogether. Office gossip was that he’d been fired after a disagreement with his stepfather. I believed the disagreement part—Alex hadn’t been happy at LeFranc for a while—but my guess was that he’d left willingly, on his own terms.
Alexander Randall was not the kind of man who got fired.
A few weeks after he’d left, Isaac had texted me and told me he’d hired Alex to help him with his taxes and some other business stuff. He and Alex had met a few times while we’d been dating, and they’d liked each other enough to exchange numbers; Isaac had texted Alex money questions all the time before we’d broken up. Isaac had worried I’d be upset when he’d told me, but I’d mostly pretended not to care. I’d been firmly in theragestage of my post-break-up grief at the time, when the mere mention of Alex’s name was enough to send me flying into a fit. And it’s not like they were hanging out. Alex was doing his taxes. That only took minutes of interaction.
Alex took a step forward. “How are you?” he asked, his tone so sincere, a spark of anger flared in my chest. He didn’t get to care about me anymore. Not here. Not now.
“Here are your drinks, Dani,” Chloe said softly behind me. I gave her a brief nod and mouthed a silent thank you.
I looked back at Alex and shrugged. “I’m fine,” I said. “The same, really.”
He nodded. “That’s good to hear.”
We stood there, the air between us so full of awkward and uncomfortable, I half-expected everyone else in the coffee shop to get up and walk out just to save themselves. When Alex didn’t say anything else, I picked up the drinks Chloe had left for me and started for the door. I held them up as I walked past, evidence presented before a judge. “I should get these to the office.”
