My Not So Perfect Life(125)

At once I feel my throat thickening. I thought I was on top of the situation, but I’m really not feeling on top of it right now. I’m feeling like I might dissolve.

“All I’ve been thinking about is you,” he presses on. “All the time, you. No one else is funny like you. Or wise like you. You’re very wise, you know that? As well as having incredibly tough thighs,” he adds, glancing at my legs. “I mean, they’re superhuman.”

I open my mouth and close it. I don’t know what to say. “Alex—”

“No, wait.” He lifts a hand. “I haven’t finished. That’s what I want, and I was an idiot to leave, and I should have realized—” He interrupts himself. “Anyway. But I don’t know if I can have you. And that’s why I’m here. To ask you. If you say no, then I’ll go away, but that’s why I’m here. To ask you. I’m repeating myself, aren’t I?” he adds matter-of-factly. “I’m nervous. This isn’t my style. It’s really not my style. Coming back.”

“I know,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “I…I heard.”

“So, yes, I’m nervous, and, yes, I’m embarrassed right now, but you know what? I’m owning my embarrassment.”

He finishes speaking into utter silence. Clearly everyone in the entire bar has surreptitiously stopped talking to eavesdrop on us. I glance up and catch sight of Demeter listening. Her hand is to her mouth as though in disbelief, and her eyes are a little sheeny.



“I’m owning my embarrassment,” Alex repeats, apparently oblivious to the audience. “Here I am, Alex Astalis, in love with you. Owning that too.”

I’m tingling in shock. Did he just say he was in love with me?

“But of course there are many, many reasons why this might not be a good idea,” he continues before I can reply, “and I wrote most of them down on the plane, just to torture myself.” He produces an airline sick bag with scrawled writing all over it. “And the one I kept coming back to was: All you ever wanted was fun. You told me. That’s what you wanted. And me turning up here like this, it’s not fun. Is it?” He takes a step toward me, his expression so agonized, so questioning, so quintessentially Alex, that I have to fight the urge to throw myself at him. “Is it?” he repeats. “Fun? This?”

“No.” Tears are shimmering in my eyes as I eventually manage to speak. “It’s not fun. It’s…us. It’s whatever we are. And that’s all I ever really wanted too. Not fun. Us.”

“Us.” Alex takes another step toward me. “That sounds good to me.” His voice is a little husky and hesitant. “That sounds…like what I want.”

“Me too.” I honestly can’t speak anymore. My throat is clogged and my nose is prickling. I never did push him out of my heart. How do you push Alex out of your heart?

And I’m frantically telling myself: We’re in a public place, behave with dignity…but then his face is a foot away…six inches away…and I inhale his scent and feel his strong arms around me…and, oh God, I’m lost.

I’m pretty sure that kissing your boss in full public is against protocol. Although…is he my boss right now?



Finally we draw apart, and everyone’s blatantly been watching us. Don’t they have lives? As the hubbub starts up again, I glance over at Demeter and she clasps her hands tightly, blows us both a kiss, then puts a tissue to her eyes, as though she’s my fairy godmother.

“Katie Brenner.” Alex cups my face as though drinking me in. “Katie Brenner. Why did I go to New York when I had you right here?”

“I can’t believe you left me,” I say, nestling into his jacket.

“I can’t believe you didn’t stop me.” He kisses me again, long and deep, and I find myself calculating whether I can take the afternoon off. Special circumstances.

Alex passes me a wineglass and I clink with his and lean against his chest again. And something in me unwinds, something I didn’t even realize was tense. I feel like: At last. At last. At last.

“Katie Brenner,” says Alex again, as though just saying my name makes him happy. “So, let me take you out to dinner tonight. I never take you out to dinner.” He frowns, as though we’re an old married couple. “Where would you like to go?”

“I’ve got Dad and Biddy staying with me at the moment,” I say, a little regretfully, but his face lights up.

“Even better. Family reunion. You do realize I’m only after you for Biddy’s cooking?”

“Oh, I know.” I laugh. “I’m not stupid.”

“So, family supper, then back to mine and…see how it goes? Let’s go somewhere really special.” His eyes are sparking with enthusiasm; I can feel the happiness emanating from him.



“Somewhere really special?” I eye him carefully. “You mean that?”

“Absolutely.” He nods. “Somewhere really, truly, extraordinarily special. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”

Is there anywhere I’d like to go?

“Hang on.” I scrabble in my bag. Right at the bottom is my ancient handwritten list of restaurants, the one I’ve been carrying around all this time.