The Girl Who Fell(77)

Joan pours her words into the air weighted with fragrant Christmas pine and the just-baked smell wafting from the kitchen. I fidget my hands under the linen tablecloth because we are alone and there is so much I want to say and do but not nearly enough time. Alec’s mother is in Boston, picking up his father at the airport; we only have a few hours. I don’t want to spend them eating.

When Alec emerges from the kitchen carrying our plates, a linen cloth hung over his arm waiter-style, I laugh. His pumpkin-colored apron has a baby chick with a chef’s hat perched on the pocket.

“Your dinner is served, milady.” He sets my plate onto the placemat before me.

I stare at the breaded roll of meat, which looks a lot like Mom’s chicken cordon blue. Hers is delicious, though sloppy. This one is so perfect I can’t help wonder if it’s takeout. “Did you make this?”

“Just for you.” He takes the seat next to me.

“And the music?”

“Also for you.”

“Would it be an insult to call you perfect? Because all of this is better than perfect.”

“You should eat first. It’s my first shot at cordon blue so it could be a disaster.”

A light sauce drapes the sides of the roll, and I can see the wrap of chicken, cheese and ham in the middle. I pick up my fork, but hesitate. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”

He gives me a shy smile and raises his glass. “To Zephyr, and all the pretty meals I’ll cook for her.”

He clinks my glass and I take a sip of the white wine, its warmth flowing in a river through my middle, settling in my stomach, making my head clear and confused all at once.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He crawls his hand to mine and gives it a squeeze before cutting into his meal.

We eat in silence, each mouthful sacred. I take another sip of wine and now want dinner to last for hours. I want to linger over every bite, this new feast for my senses, this new part of Alec to be savored. I drink more wine and the music fogs. It feels too good to let go of some control, give it over to Alec.

When we’re through, I help Alec clear the dishes and he leads me upstairs to where a new hunger growls within me. My head spins with heavy indulgence. He walks me to the side of his bed, brushes the tips of his fingers over my cheek. I lean against him, already swaying under his touch.

“Someday we can do this every night,” he tells me.

“I’d like that.” And I’m certain we’ll have all this someday because what we have is so much bigger than me or him or this moment.

When he kisses me we float to the bed together, already connected. We are slow with each other. Linked. I am transported on cresting waves, my senses heightened, my love intensified. I let myself get lost. In him. In us.

After, with our bodies entwined, our hearts struggle to simmer and cool. I press my ear to his chest, trace the ripples of muscle that track across his abdomen. Until reality invades with its axe, reminding me that we’ll be too far from each other next year.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, Alec asks, “Do you know what you’re going to do?” He strokes my hair, his fingers predictable in their timing.

I wrestle from my dream space and wish his question didn’t break the silence, force us to talk about the issue consuming us both.

“Have you decided?”

There’s never been a decision to make. “Yes.”

“So, Boston College then?”

“We’ll make it work.” I lift my head from his torso. “I know you think long distance can’t work, but we can do it. Maybe it’s not too late for you to come to Boston—”

He presses a finger to my lips. “Michigan’s it for me. The hockey coach is flying me out in February to watch a few games. There’s no going back now.” He brushes his thumb across my mouth. “You have to know I’d do anything to be with you. I’d have found a way to decline Michigan in a second if you’d asked. If the timing had been different.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Zephyr, don’t you get it? I love you. Love. You. I want to move in together, start a real life with you. But I don’t have a choice. Not anymore.”

But I do.

Boston College seemed like my only option for the future once, but that was before Alec, before this, before our lives intertwined, inseparable as reaching vines. My stomach dips for not being as sure as him, for not thinking of him first. He’s always putting me first. He paid for Finn’s vet bill without question. He gives me thoughtful gifts at random times. He overcame his jealousy to support me and my friend. He protects me.

What have I done for him?