Still, there is a nettlesome thump in my heart all the way back to my hotel. I have no reason to believe Alex will be there. I also have no reason to believe that my heart has been yanked out and stuffed with magnets instead. But in the lobby, I admit to myself I’m looking for his unruly mop of black hair about a fraction of a second before I see it.
He’s dressed in a gray Patagonia coat that’s too lightweight for this weather, and the same jeans and tennis shoes we went hiking in a few days after Christmas. Ganier Ridge, the hike was called. That day, the wind blew his hair back from his forehead in one smooth sweep, but today it’s been tugged in every direction. He’s wringing his hands in knots, seated on the edge of an ottoman, staring at the floor so intently I’m convinced he’s counting the stains on the Persian rug. There is a mostly empty weekender bag beside his feet.
“Alex?”
His head snaps up. That’s when I see the bruisy half-moons under his eyes. The shadow of his stubble is more pronounced than I’ve ever seen it. He stands in one smooth movement, then pushes a hand to his forehead like the motion made him dizzy.
“Hi,” he says as he takes a step toward me. “God, you’re so fucking beautiful. How—”
I back away. Alex frowns and goes still, not coming any closer.
He should have warned me. This isn’t fair. I’m too vulnerable right now, doing my best to adjust, and Alex knows it.
“Two days ago, my phone fell in the toilet,” he tries again. “At the office.”
“Your…” My head tilts. “The toilet.”
“Yeah,” he articulates, but all I really acknowledge is how much I missed the sound of his voice. “I tracked you because you weren’t at the all-hands meeting Wednesday. And I saw you were already here, which kind of took me by surprise enough to drop my phone in the fucking toilet.”
I frown. “What took you by surprise?”
He blinks at me. Blinks again. “That you moved up your flight.”
“No, I didn’t,” I mutter.
Alex takes another step forward. This time, I hold my ground, keep my eyes on his.
“The last Monday in January, Case. That’s the day you said you were leaving. Ten at night on Monday during the last week of January. That’s three days from now. I was going to go all the way to the airport with you. I wanted to be the first person you called when you landed. When I realized you’d left without me, I got on the literal first flight I could.”
I open my mouth, close it again. I’m too fixated on the second part of what he said to wrap my head around the first. “I guess…” I rub my forehead. “I guess I meant the last Monday of January according to Little Cooper’s fiscal calendar. Which was four days ago.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds, dumbfounded at the misunderstanding.
Alex’s mouth pulls into the outline of a smile, some of the strain eclipsed by it. “You would have meant that.” A laugh slips through his teeth. “I honestly should have known.”
I muster an equally thin smile for about two point five seconds before it falls back off my face. “Did you come all the way here to say goodbye?”
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Alex murmurs, closing the distance between us. “Never did. I needed space, but not a whole ocean of it.” His voice digs in, deep, straining. “I fucking love you, Casey.”
I press a hand to his chest, trying to put aside the feeling of the pounding heart beneath it. “Okay. But we can’t just ignore—”
“I know.” Alex shudders against me, his eyes sweeping over my neck and lips. “I know it wouldn’t have been right for me to come here if I hadn’t done some reflection first.” He pauses. “I met with Robert.”
I refocus. “You did?”
Alex nods, the muscles in his jaw flexing. “The day of your party, which—yep, makes sense now that it was a week early.” He sighs and shakes his head. “You asked if I knew something you didn’t. Remember?”
I nod.
“Well, I did. On my birthday, I got this email from my father. He told me I inspired him to come out of retirement and explore digital media.”
“Oh.” My hands come to rest against my lips.
He winces, dropping my eyes. “You were right about everything,” he whispers. “The day you left New York … that’s the day I finally worked up the courage to go to his town house. I saw the same piece of paper from Strauss you saw, right there on the entryway table. Guess what it was? A proposed outline of his future share. He got home later that night, and I confronted him about it. He didn’t want to fess up at first, but when he could tell I was onto him, he just sort of … broke open. Started talking about how Dougie deserved it, how it was a matter of honor.” Alex laughs darkly. “He manipulated not one, but two whole businesses so he could get a leg up on a man who is, objectively, his own mirror image.”
“Alex—”
“And then,” Alex says, hand on his neck, “he started promising me things. He said he always planned to bring me into a position of power in the new company. Money, a better job title. He even dangled his own mentorship in my face like a carrot. Said now that I was grown, we could be partners. But it was all just too little, too late.”
I didn’t want to be right about this. I can tell just looking at Alex that he’s exhausted, defeated. He hasn’t had it as bad as me over the last few weeks. He’s had it worse.
Alex scratches at his jaw, still not meeting my eyes. “I stood there in that town house, inwardly fuming, staring at the spot where I made love to you on the floor, with his wife in the next room hating me loudly, and realized. I could put up with that type of behavior when it was only me Robert was undoing. Not when it was everyone else.” He shakes his head, eyes on the floor. “I told him I wanted no part in any of it.”
My thoughts are stumbling over themselves, rapid-fire, begging for attention at the front of my brain, but I am present enough to recognize that Robert wouldn’t have liked that response. “How did he take it?” I ask.
Alex frowns. “He was frustrated. But funny enough, I think part of him understood. Maybe he even respected me for it.” He scrubs a hand over his face. “Robert’s never lied to me about who he is, or what his priorities are. But I made it clear it him—and to myself, finally, after all this time—that mine aren’t the same.” His eyes flash to me. “He knows I’m going to come clean. He’s preparing for it.”
“No.” I shake my head, spiraling at the prospect of Alex in trouble. “That’s not … No.”
“I can handle the legal consequences,” he rasps. “I did what I did.”
For a few long seconds he says nothing, and I know in my bones we could stay like this for hours. Remembering each other. He doesn’t make any move to touch me. But his gaze lingers. “You really are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Whip-smart. Funny. Inspiring. And the way you quietly care about people is just … completely unbound.” His eyes dip down to the papers in my hand, his mother’s name in bold under the titles at the top. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what you’re holding.”