“It’s as good a place as any.” Lennon grabbed the car door handle but stopped before getting out. She shifted in her seat to face Alex. “Are you okay?” she asked, choosing her words carefully. “Are you nervous about their visit?”

  “I just…” Alex looked out into the distance. “I just think I’m afraid Lindsey will tell me I made a mistake coming out here. Aside from meeting you, selling a few pieces of my work, and enjoying the beach, I’m not sure I have much to show for my time.” She knitted her brow. “Yeah. I guess I am nervous.”

  “I get that.” Lennon reached over and looped her fingers through Alex’s. “You did what was best for you in the moment, and you’re rolling with it.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed Lennon’s hand. “Let’s go on inside. There’s nothing that we can’t drink about, right?”

  “Absolutely.” Lennon laughed. “Let’s go have some mixed drinks about some feelings.”

  Alex’s laugh rang out. “God, I love you.” As soon as the words tumbled forth, she snapped her mouth closed. Lennon’s mouth went dry, and it felt as if the air had been sucked out of the car. Her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to say—and came up empty. She looked out the window, grabbed the door handle, and quickly exited the car. Following suit, Alex hopped out and met her at the entrance.

  “I’m going to browse some beer, as well,” Lennon said, holding the door open for Alex before darting off to the beer fridge, her thoughts running rampant. As she glanced from IPAs to lagers, she shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them from displaying her inner panic. It hadn’t been a declaration of love. It had come out more like a “God, I love the Beatles” type of statement than an “I’m so in love with you.” The world seemed to shift beneath her. She reached for the shelving in front of her and steadied herself. That’s what Alex had meant, right? It had to be.

  She took three deep breaths but couldn’t quell the storm of questions within her. What if that was what Alex had meant? Did Alex feel that way, or was it some misplaced emotion? And most importantly, what did she feel?

  She closed her eyes, tightening her grip on a six-pack of grapefruit IPA. Her world was brighter with Alex around, and the sound of her laughter was enough to make a shitty day better. Their chemistry in bed was unmatched, and conversation was passionate. She’d gone along this far with the relationship because there had been no reason at all not to enjoy the ride they were on. But…love? Was it? Could it be?

  She cleared her throat, but the sound that emerged came across more like a cry. She realized she’d been gone for too long. Her fingers were cold by the time she grabbed two six-packs, without checking the labels, and headed back toward the bourbon section.

  “Figured this was a safe bet,” Alex said, smiling as Lennon rounded the corner.

  “If I’m ever lost, you can wait for me in a bourbon section. I’ll always find my way there eventually,” Lennon said, forcing a laugh.

  Alex shifted her weight side to side and opened her mouth, but she didn’t speak. “Which one?” she finally asked, pointing to the wall of whiskey.

  “I’m thinking Old Grand-Dad for sure to mix and a bottle of Whistle Pig for a nicer after-dinner treat,” Lennon said, nodding toward her tried and true favorites. She grabbed the bottles off the shelf and placed them in Alex’s outstretched hands. “I’m going to grab some ginger beer and some orange bitters.” She turned on a heel and headed for another section, Alex following behind her.

  As she gathered the items, she wondered if she should address what had been said, but as the silence grew between them, she was certain speaking about it would only make it more awkward.

  She glanced down at the items she held, thankful they masked the way her hands were shaking. Her nerves were going haywire. She’d grab the rest of the things she needed at the grocery store, she told herself, focusing her attention on everything but the elephant in the liquor store.

  Alex stood wordlessly beside her as she paid and took her bagged purchases. Once out the door, she practically raced for the sanctuary of the passenger seat, where there would be the godsend of a stereo. She quickly deposited the liquor in the backseat, took her seat upfront, cued up her music app again, and hit shuffle. As if coming to her rescue, Celine Dion’s powerful voice flooded the car’s interior. She closed her eyes, singing along loudly to drown out any questions from Alex or, worse yet, from herself.

  * * *

  Alex’s heart was pounding every bit as loudly as the music thumping from the speakers. She resisted the urge to turn it down. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Lennon looked completely lost in the music. Her grip on the door handle gave her away, though. Her knuckles whitened as her voice rose and fell with the high and low notes. Looking away, Alex put the car in drive and headed down the road toward the grocery store.

  What had she done? Was Lennon going to bolt as soon as she was taken back to her own vehicle? The chorus of “It’s All Coming Back to Me” swelled, but Celine Dion singing about old feelings coming back did nothing to quell her fears.

  The beeping of a horn brought her back to reality.

  “Dammit!” She swerved out of the way of the car that was barreling toward them. “Sorry,” she said, glancing sideways toward Lennon. “I didn’t see the four-way stop.”

  “No worries,” Lennon said, studiously keeping her gaze on her phone and flipping through it to select the next song.

  After Alex pulled the car into the parking lot, she sat for a moment longer than usual, waiting for her heart rate to go back to normal, waiting for her mind to stop swimming in self-doubt and insecurity. She watched as Lennon grabbed her wallet, got out, and strode toward the store. Her movements were smooth, her shoulders were held back with confidence, and the sunlight glinting down brought out the shine in her lovely blue eyes as she turned back to look for Alex. Lovely. There was that damn word again. Without her permission, Alex’s mind contemplated a scary thought. Had she said what she said out of habit? Or had she actually meant it?

  She got out of the car, slamming the door to try to dislodge the thought, and walked toward the store. With each step toward Lennon, toward a meet-the-family Thanksgiving celebration, and toward the words she couldn’t unspeak, her legs grew weaker and she became more and more certain there was no way to undo the predicament she’d created.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The scent of coffee wafted through the air, mixing with the sea breeze that danced through Alex’s open window. She stared at the blank canvas in front of her and adjusted the lamp above her workstation. Three o’clock in the morning might not offer the best lighting for painting, but it offered the most peaceful time to sort through her thoughts.

  She dipped her brush into red paint and ran it across the canvas, its bold stroke bringing to life the mounting passion and frustration coming to a head within her.

  I love you.

  The words echoed in her mind, drawing her back to the last time she’d said them before yesterday afternoon, to a time when she thought they meant forever. Rubbing the spot where she once wore a ring, she shuddered. Letting herself remember, she closed her eyes, no longer seeing Olivia’s face, but Lennon’s in its place.

  Leaning forward, she let her mind shuffle through her thoughts and began painting with reckless abandon. Hours passed by in a blur, and as she set her paintbrush down the sun peeked over the horizon. Leaning back in her chair, she crossed her legs and surveyed her night’s work. It was chaotic, passionate, and angry. Within it, an array of faceless lovers swirled around one another until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

  She turned the canvas toward the wall. What it meant was not clear. She snorted. It was confusing enough to her, and she was the artist.

  She jumped at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, suddenly reminded that she had a four-year-old and his mom as houseguests.

  “Good morning,” she said, turning around to find her sister standing behind her, eyeing her quizzically.

  “What are you doing?” Before she could answer, Lindsey held up her hands to stop Alex from saying anything. She turned on a heel and walked toward the kitchen. “Where’s the coffee?” she asked, visibly upset, but clearly having opted to forgo a conversation. For the moment at least.

  “In the cabinet above the pot,” Alex said, wiping her hands on the towel beside her easel and standing. “I made a pot earlier, but I drank it. I’ll make a fresh one. Let me take care of it.”

  She joined her sister in the kitchen and gently nudged her out of the way. “What’s wrong with you?” she teased.

  “With me?” Lindsey crossed her arms over her chest, then stepped back, running a hand through her tousled hair. She was quite a sight, pouting in her Wonder Woman pajama pants, no doubt something Connor had picked out at the store, given his love of superheroes. “I should be asking you that question.”

  “I’m fine.” Alex tossed the old grounds into her counter compost bin, poured water into the back of the coffeemaker, and filled the tray with fresh grounds. She looked over her shoulder and made eye contact with her sister. Lindsey narrowed her eyes and shook her head.

  “I’ve seen it before,” she finally said with her hands on her hips. “You being up at all hours of the night painting is never a good sign.”

  “Maybe I’m just working on my craft.” Alex worked to keep the edge out of her voice. The last thing she wanted was a lecture or life advice.

  “Maybe,” Lindsey said. “Or maybe you’re wrestling with your demons, fighting off depression, or trying to make a decision.” She paused only to reach over and grab a grape out of the bowl on the counter and pop it into her mouth. As she chewed, she eyed Alex intently. “Which is it?” she asked after she swallowed.

  “Why not all three?” Alex asked as she turned to grab pancake mix from the pantry. “Where’s my favorite nephew?”

  “Still sleeping. Stop changing the subject.”

  “Fine.” Alex sighed. “What is it you’re after? Want to know that I’m a bit uncertain if I should have moved here and dropped everything back home?” She waited, but Lindsey didn’t speak. She angrily snatched a spatula from her utensil holder and set the box of mix on the counter. “I was pretty uncertain for a while. It was a leap of faith…no…desperation.” She gulped, remembering the tumultuous nature of those first few weeks. “It was a rough bit of time, and I know you’re worried I didn’t deal with anything. It’s been a common theme in your texts, your calls, and now in your condescending grimace.”

  “I am not being condescending. I am just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fucked up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional?”

  “I hate it when you do that,” Alex said, moving past her to gather eggs and milk from the refrigerator. As she swung the door open, she looked around it to face Lindsey again. “I’m good. I’m happy. I’m human.”

  “Human, I can see,” Lindsey said. “You’ll have to sell me a bit harder on good and happy.”

  “Please stop.” Alex held up her hands to reinforce her point. “Yes, I ran from my problems, and yes, coming out here didn’t magically make them go away. I have my old problems and old demons too. To which I’ve added new problems and new demons. And I’m still here fighting.” She grabbed a bowl and cracked the eggs into it in frustration. The box of mix ripped as she yanked it open, sending the flour-like substance all over the kitchen.

  “Calm down,” Lindsey said, walking toward her.

  “Don’t,” Alex hissed. “I’m fucking happy you’re here, okay? I’m really excited to see you and spend time with Connor. I’ve been looking forward to this, and I want to have a good Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m not trying to ruin Thanksgiving,” Lindsey said, stepping backward as if she had been slapped.

  “Then what are you trying to do?” When Lindsey didn’t answer, Alex let out a sad laugh and grabbed a dishtowel. As she was cleaning up the spill, she thought better of it, but spoke the words anyway. “It’s bad enough you offered no real support when I went through a broken engagement, but now you show up here, act cold to my girlfriend, and lecture me on Thanksgiving.”

  “I wasn’t acting cold.” Fire flashed in Lindsey’s eyes. “I am just being protective. Besides there was something else going on between the two of you last night. She’s nice, and she’s funny, but I don’t know what the hell I walked into. You two barely talked to one another, and what was that whole thing with the limes?”

  “She cut her hand while making cocktails,” Alex said in disbelief. “Give her a break. Don’t you think it might be a little nerve-wracking to have to meet someone’s family members, especially when those family members have their claws out?”

  “I don’t know what to think, aside from the fact that I don’t think jumping from one bed to another is the best approach for getting your shit together.”

  “I don’t think I asked for your permission or your approval.” Her hands shook with anger, but she pressed on with the task at hand. The silence hung between them as she mashed the remaining pancake mix into the bowl. She frowned. This was the last thing she’d wanted. She knew she should extend an olive branch, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  “I’m just saying I’m not sure she’s right for you.”

  “Ouch.”

  At the sound of Lennon’s voice, Lindsey spun around, her arm flailing out and knocking the bowl of mix to the ground in a single motion.

  “Fuck,” Alex muttered. She looked from the mix splattered on the floor to Lennon’s pained smile to Lindsey’s reddening cheeks and threw the dishtowel on the ground.

  “Let me help with that,” Lennon said, walking over and dropping to her knees. Behind them Lindsey was trying to form words that sounded like a genuine apology, but Alex held up a hand cutting her off.

  “Why don’t you go shower and get ready?” she suggested, leaning around Lennon to narrow her eyes at Lindsey. “Go,” she mouthed silently, shaking her head in disbelief at her sister.

  First there was the “I love you” debacle, and now there was this. If Lennon didn’t run for the hills by nightfall, she’d be impressed.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said when she finally heard the door to her bathroom close.

  “Don’t.” Lennon wiped up the last of the mix from the floor and smiled. The feeling didn’t show in her eyes, but Alex figured it was as good as she was going to get in the moment. She leaned over and kissed Lennon softly. “She’s right about yesterday and the lime crisis,” Lennon said. “I let my nerves get the best of me, and things were a bit awkward. I was probably a bit overanimated.”

  “Still, she shouldn’t have…”

  Lennon cut her words off with another kiss.

  “Thank you.”

  “Not a problem,” Lennon said, standing and gathering the soiled rags.

  Alex opened her mouth, wishing she could say something to break the tension that had been festering there for almost twenty-four hours.

  “I said something yesterday,” she blurted out.

  Lennon’s eyes widened and she feigned confusion. “What did you say?” Her voice quivered, giving her away. She knew, and Alex knew she knew.

  “You know what I said.”

  The words hung between them, and Lennon cast her eyes downward. “I do.”

  Alex’s throat went dry and her hands shook. She looked into Lennon’s eyes and offered a tentative smile. “I meant it.” The words were almost too quiet to hear, but when Lennon stiffened, Alex knew she’d heard.

  Lennon’s eyes darted around the room, and she shifted her weight to the side. Stepping forward, she set the mix-covered towels and bowl on the counter. “I’m not ready,” she said after a moment. She stepped closer to Alex and put her arms around her waist. “I…” she exhaled hard. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Alex said, thankful that Lennon hadn’t made a beeline for the door at her admission. “I was up all night trying to sort out why I’d said it, and I just needed to get it out in the open.”

  “We’ve always been pretty committed to laying it on the line.” Lennon leaned in for a peck of a kiss. “Thanks for telling me, but I’m not sure what we do from here.”

  “Same thing we’ve been doing?” Alex’s heart pounded as Lennon looked up at her, seeming to weigh her options.

  She nodded eventually and gave Alex another quick peck before breaking contact. “Want me to make French toast?”

  “Please.” As Lennon set to work, Alex watched her swoop in once more to save the day. Once or twice, she considered addressing what Lindsey had said, but she figured they’d dealt with one calamity this morning, a major one, and that was more than enough.

  She busied herself cleaning up the rest of the kitchen and setting places at the table while Lennon whipped up a batch of French toast. She was grateful for the help, although she wished the morning had gone the way she had planned it.

  “Are you excited for today?” Her voice shook a little as she filled the silence. Wringing a dishtowel in her hands, she wondered if it would always feel this awkward between them now.

  “Sure,” Lennon said, offering a good-natured laugh. “How do these look?” She held up a platter of perfectly golden pieces of French toast, surrounded by fresh berries.

  “Amazing,” Alex said, looking from the French toast to Lennon. “Just like you.”

  Lennon winked, bringing the platter over to the table. “Should we call them in?”

  Alex frowned. “I want the little one, but not his mom.” The words came out as a hiss.

  “Well, we might as well call both of them regardless,” Lennon said, placing the tray on the table. “She took off work to be here, and she made the effort to come all this way.”

  Reluctantly, Alex turned to call her sister and Connor. She stopped in her tracks, wincing as she saw Lindsey already standing in the hallway.

  “I’ll get Connor for breakfast,” Lindsey said, turning around before Alex could say anything, but not before Alex saw her pained expression.