Playing It Safe(71)

“During my final year of college, she came to visit me. Things were rocky then, to say the least, and we argued off and on that last day. It got to the point that things were said that couldn’t be taken back or unheard … and so she left.”

“I’m sorry, Alex.”

I can tell he’s struggling to say the next words by the way his fingers clench together into tight fists. “I’m sorry too, because if I had gone after her instead of waiting for her to come back to me, she would still be alive today.”

I gasp out loud because that is the very last thing I expect to hear. “Oh my God, how did she—”

“I don’t know all the details other than she lost control of her car and slammed into a guardrail over an embankment. The only thing I do know is that she didn’t suffer and died instantly.”

My eyes tear up because of the pain I see in his, and more than anything, the obvious guilt he still feels over losing Katerina. I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like, and it makes my so-called sob story of being jilted by Aiden all those years ago seem like a cakewalk.

He smiles in an effort to lighten the heavy mood in the air, but it’s forced. Both of us have long forgotten about eating at this point. Alex unclenches his fist and then reaches for his wineglass and takes a sip. When he sets it back down on the table, he clears his throat before filling in the rest of the gaps, namely Marisa’s place in all of this.

“That was eleven years ago, and it took a while for me to move on, but I did. Marisa, on the other hand, as well as her parents, never has.” His index finger starts to trace the rim of the wineglass before leaning back in his chair. “Marisa was fourteen years old when Katerina died, which is a very difficult age to lose someone you care so much about. But I think what has made it worse for her over the years is the fact that their parents idolized Katerina and put her on a pedestal as if she could do no wrong. As a result, Marisa has been living the last few years of her life in a shadow.”

“I don’t understand,” I say to him, genuinely confused. “But what does that have to do with you all these years later?”

“Guilt is a funny thing, Julia,” he replies with a forced grin. “As I said, my parents are still very close to Marisa’s parents, and I guess in their minds they think me taking Marisa out every so often is helping the situation. But it’s not, it just makes everything more …”

“Complicated.”

“Yes,” he confirms in a rush of breath. “Very complicated.”

“So that explains the invitation to the party and why she’s so interested in you. If I’m being too nosy with my next question, by all means tell me.” Alex nods as an eyebrow cocks upward in curiosity. “Should I be worried about her?”


He runs a hand through his hair and then starts to rub the back of his neck, and that alone makes me nervous of his answer. “Not really.”

Before I can ask him to clarify that answer, he says, “We kissed one time a few years ago, but I swear that is as far as it went. I had a few drinks, and in a moment of complete stupidity I let it happen.”

I want to believe him when he tells me there is essentially nothing going on between the two of them other than the one kiss and him escorting her out sometimes. I’m certain he’s doing it more out of guilt than anything else. Is it weird and creepy? A little bit, but I get it. However, that doesn’t explain why Marisa would be telling Aiden’s fiancée that there is more between them. But I make a conscious decision not to dig deeper. The way I see it, I have to believe Alex’s explanation versus Aiden’s because … well, Aiden’s track record speaks for itself.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, his voice quiet and unsure. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Honestly? A bunch of things.”

“Care to pinpoint?”

“Well, I never thought I’d say this, but I feel sorry for Marisa, and even worse that I was kind of a bitch to her,” I say sheepishly. And it’s the truth. I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s gone through.

“So you’re okay with all of this?”

“As far as understanding it and why you’ve continued to take her out, yes, I am. But I have to be totally honest with you,” I say. “I’m not really okay with you continuing to do so if we’re going to be together.” I pause and take note of his expression softening, as if he was holding a breath until I answered. “I don’t share, Alex.”

“I haven’t been anywhere with her since that opening at the gallery a couple of weeks ago,” he clarifies. Then he adds with an impish grin, “And I’m glad to hear you don’t share, Julia, because I don’t either.”

My lips twitch to keep my smile in check. We sit there for a few seconds not saying a word. The pull I felt a little while ago of wanting to comfort him is still battling within me. It’s such an odd feeling to want to comfort a man I’m in a relationship with, and I would normally brush it off, but I don’t want to with Alex. Before I can chicken out, I stand up, his eyes tracking my movements as I walk around the small table to him. He pivots in his seat and makes room for me in between his legs. I take his face in my hands and tilt his chin up as I bend down and place a light kiss on his forehead. Alex closes his eyes at the contact, so I keep planting soft kisses down the bridge of his nose, eyelids, cheeks, chin, and finally his mouth. For some reason, this moment feels far more intimate to me than the ones we’ve shared in the bedroom, and I like it. A lot.