Always a Love Song Page 7

  “Yeah, I’ve read that,” Alex said. “No problem, I guess. It’s good.” She shrugged. “I don’t read much history anymore. No point in dwelling on the past.”

  Bridget gulped down half her glass of wine. Logically, of course, she knew that Alex would have changed. It’d been five years, after all. Hard for anything to stay still that long. But it was Alex, a woman she knew like her second self—except she didn’t, not anymore.

  It was like the Alex she’d loved and the Alex that existed now were two entirely different people. This Alex was more guarded, less quick with a smile. Some of it was because of her dad’s sudden death, but how much was her own fault for leaving? She’d thought keeping up with things back home would be too hard, but no matter how hard it might’ve been, it would’ve been ten times easier than this, than thinking life would stay still while she moved on and then coming back to find how wrong that was.

  “Oh, no?” Max asked, eyebrows raised as he darted a glance at Bridget. “So, what do you like to read now?”

  “I’ve been reading a lot of sci-fi, actually. I like thinking about the future.” Alex said it so casually, but Bridget caught the subtle bite in her tone.

  Without thinking, she set her balled-up napkin beside her plate and got up. “I have to, um…” She didn’t even finish the excuse as she left the room, feeling every pair of eyes watching her exit.

  In the kitchen, she braced herself on the sink. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

  “Yes, you can,” Jaya’s voice said behind her. She stepped closer and rubbed a hand up and down Bridget’s back. “You’re so strong, Bridget.”

  “I’m not. I’m a coward who should’ve stayed and helped her through it. I should’ve found a way. Isn’t that what people do for love? What if I made a giant mistake?”

  Jaya squeezed her shoulder. “If you did, then you’re owning up to it now. And you’ve got a big, beautiful heart that will help you make up for that mistake.”

  “How can she do this? How can she sit in the same room as me and not care?”

  “I promise you she does. She’s just as affected as you are.”

  “Yeah?” Bridget chuckled through the tears that were threatening to stream from her eyes. “Then why doesn’t she act like it?”

  “Oh, sweetie,” said Jaya. “Because she’s had so much more time to practice. Every person in this town has confronted her with this in one way or another over the years. She couldn’t get away from the memory of you, not here. It’s still your first week.” Jaya wiped at Bridget’s tears. “Don’t beat yourself up, okay?”

  Bridget nodded, and Jaya left her alone then to collect herself. She splashed water on her face in a half-hearted attempt to clear up the redness and, after a few more minutes, went back in.

  The change of scenery as they moved into the living room was good, and Alex was relieved when the conversation thinned enough to not demand her attention. She took a seat at the edge of the red microfiber couch. She sat here almost every week, but it felt different this time. Everything felt different now, and she was out of sorts about it. Even the normally cushy couch was uncomfortable.

  Maybe Alex had overestimated her own strength. Maybe she should bow out of Sunday dinners until Bridget left again.

  Bridget didn’t get to do this. She didn’t get to disappear for years and then suddenly show up and expect everything to be the same. Alex’s life might have revolved around Bridget once—it had, oh, God, it had—but not anymore. Her life was her own, and if Bridget was going to be in it, as a friend or maybe as something else someday, then Bridget had to accept that.

  Friends. Friends. Alex repeated it to herself. Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d start to believe it was an actual possibility.

  She came back to the conversation just in time to hear Max ask, “This is junior prom?” He pointed to a picture frame on the mantle. Even from the couch, she knew it was the one she avoided every visit. The one of her and Bridget in complementary tuxes—all because Alex hadn’t felt comfortable in a dress and Bridget had wanted to make the night special. And that was before they’d dated.

  Chuckling, Max said to Bridget, “You were a rebel, huh?”

  “You have no idea,” Evelyn said, looking pointedly at Bridget. “Maybe I should go get the photo albums.”

  Bridget covered her face. “Oh, my God, Mom. Please don’t.”

  But Evelyn was already getting up and disappearing upstairs.

  Alex’s stomach roiled. She could accept Bridget’s reappearance, accept that their spheres would overlap once again for a little while, but she didn’t need to sit around and reminiscence. Reminiscing only bred resentment. “I’m sorry,” she said, standing. “I just…I need some air.”

  Before anyone could react, she pushed out of her seat, strode through the living room, and stumbled out the door. The cool autumn air hit her face; she tilted her head back and inhaled deeply.

  She should leave. The first thing she’d had to push herself to learn after the breakup was how to take care of herself, and leaving a situation that messed her up this badly was the definition of self-care.

  Her respite was cut short when the door opened behind her.

  “Are you all right?”

  Bridget.

  Alex ran her fingers through her hair to give herself time to think. “No, I don’t think so. I’m sorry. Give my apologies to Evelyn.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “You can do that yourself. If you want to leave, come inside and tell my mom yourself.”

  Alex balked. She stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets. She didn’t even have her coat. Couldn’t remember to breathe. Couldn’t remember her coat. God, Bridget turned her into a loser. She turned around. “What do you want from me, Bridget?”

  Bridget stood on the porch, arms curled around her stomach, though whether from the chill or something else, Alex couldn’t tell. She shook her head, shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. This just…doesn’t seem sustainable, what we’re doing.” Much more quietly, she asked, “Do you still hate me?”

  Alex opened her mouth, but nothing coherent came out. Once upon a time, she’d been very close to that. But now? No, she didn’t. She was just angry and confused, and no amount of time would make that go away. There was no hatred there. It was just…pain she didn’t know where to focus, so she threw it back to the person who caused it in the first place.

  Alex looked at the grass by her feet.

  “What’s this even accomplishing?” Bridget asked.

  But she didn’t sound angry. She just sounded…sad. Like Alex used to be.

  When Alex didn’t answer, Bridget continued, “Hanging onto your loathing like it’s the only thing you’ve got left? I can’t even get you to look at me long enough for me to apologize.”

  Alex looked up sharply. She hadn’t even realized…

  “Maybe that suits you now,” Bridget said, “but what about a year from now? Five? When you look back on this moment, this week, this visit, will you regret your decision not to have a real honest-to-God conversation with me?”

  “An honest conversation?” Alex stepped forward, voice rising. “You were the one who left without one of those. You can’t just come here and expect me to give you that courtesy when you never gave it to me.”

  “Alex, that’s not what I… I don’t expect anything of you.”

  “But you do,” Alex said. “You want me to act like you didn’t break my heart. You want everything to go back to the way it was. Well, we can’t, Bridget. We can’t ever go back to that.”

  Bridget bit her lip as she collected herself. Then she walked down the porch steps to stand right in front of Alex. “I was young, and I was scared, and I was stupid. I loved you so fucking much, but I didn’t know how to help you.”

  Al
ex covered her face with her palms. She didn’t want to hear this. She didn’t want to hear how she wasn’t good enough, how music called to Bridget and she couldn’t stay stuck with a woman like Alex, how Alex could never have been good enough for someone with dreams as big as Bridget’s.

  “And maybe I didn’t know how to help, but you didn’t give me an inch,” Bridget continued. “You share the blame here, too.”’

  That—that stopped Alex. That enraged Alex. Yeah, she’d needed some space to process her dad’s death, but all Bridget had needed to do was wait. She couldn’t even do that. “I’m not the one who gave up on us.”

  “But you were the one who pushed me away.”

  Alex reeled back. Bridget was the one who had left, not her. “Everything was always about you, wasn’t it? I’m sorry you weren’t the center of my fucking universe for a few goddamn months.”

  “That’s…” Bridget tightened her jaw.

  “What?” Alex demanded.

  But Bridget only straightened and backed away. The fire in her eyes had died. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  No, it was something. What was she going to accuse Alex of now? “Bridget.”

  But Bridget was halfway up the porch steps. “You know what? I’m obviously upsetting you, and this obviously isn’t working, so just go. I’ll tell my mom you got a headache.”

  She disappeared inside before Alex could get a word in.

  Staring at the closed door, at the wreath that swung gently from the impact, Alex blew out a long sigh. It was for the best. Neither of them wanted to have this conversation anyway, and if this had showed her anything, it was that she wasn’t ready to let go of her anger. Maybe she never would be.

  Chapter Six

  Then

  Alex rubbed her eyes as she stared at the glaring laptop screen. It was past eleven PM, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with Bridget. But it turned out that getting by as fresh graduates, even on two combined incomes, wasn’t as easy as some people made it out to be. She tapped the spacebar lazily. Freelance translation wasn’t as exciting as she’d expected, either.

  Her earbuds were pulled from her ears, arms slipped around her shoulders, and a chin came to rest on her head. Alex hummed in delight.

  “Babe,” Bridget whined. “It’s cold in bed without you.”

  “There’s an extra blanket in the closet. And it’s summer.”

  “You’re cruel.”

  Laughing, Alex latched onto Bridget’s arms. “I’m also working.”

  “Can’t you take a break?”

  “If I take any more breaks, I’ll never finish.”

  “This break is different. This break has me.”

  Before Alex could protest, Bridget plopped into her lap. She was wearing her Pitt sweatshirt despite the warm summer night. Alex’s arms snaked around her of their own accord. She really should finish this tonight, but Bridget’s grapefruit shampoo proved more enticing. She buried her nose in her girlfriend’s hair.

  “I think I know something that’ll cheer you up,” Bridget said, snagging the mouse and minimizing the current document.

  “Oh, yeah?” Alex murmured. “I can think of a few things.”

  “Hey, I thought you said you had to finish.”

  “Oh, I’ll finish, all right, and so will you.”

  Bridget jabbed her elbow gently into Alex’s ribs. “You’re bad.”

  “You love it.”

  “Look.”

  The local animal shelter’s website filled the screen, displaying scrolling pictures of adoptable cats and dogs.

  “Shelter animals?” Alex asked. “Their cuteness cheers me up, but the fact that they all need to be adopted does not.”

  “That’s why we should adopt one!” Bridget’s eyes were wide with excitement and hope. “Giving even just one a good home is worthwhile, isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” Alex said through a sigh, “but I don’t know. It might be hard since we don’t have regular schedules.”

  “But between the two of us, we could work it out. He’ll keep us company when the other’s at work.” Bridget clicked a few times and landed on a photo of a black and white pit bull. “Look at this cutie!”

  “Benjamin? That’s a person name, not a dog name.” Still, he was adorable. All dogs were. And those big brown eyes weren’t sad because he was waiting for a forever home. They were just his eyes. At least, that was what Alex told herself.

  Bridget swiveled to latch her arms around Alex’s neck. “We’ll call him Benny. Or change his name. The shelter doesn’t care as long as he has a good home.”

  “A dog’s a lot of money. Half our diet is already ninety-seven-cent noodles.”

  Bridget pressed her forehead to Alex’s. “Then we’ll skimp on going out, and I could always ask my mom for some money. She’s happy to help.”

  “Bridge…”

  “Look.” Bridget pressed a soft kiss to Alex’s lips. “I know it’s a lot to consider, and I don’t expect an answer right now. We can talk about it again in a week, okay? And I really did think the cute pictures would help.”

  “They did.” Mostly Bridget did, by reminding her that the sooner she finished this project, the sooner they got to snuggle.

  “I’ll go make you a cup of tea.”

  Alex pushed forward for another kiss. “Thank you.”

  Bridget padded into the kitchen, the sway of her hips mesmerizing in those little boxer shorts.

  “Hey,” Alex said, causing Bridget to turn. “I love you.”

  Bridget smirked. “I know.”

  Two days later, Benjamin—Benny—lay stretched out on a brand-new dog bed, exhausted from the arduousness of being adopted.

  Alex sat nearby on the couch, her leg jiggling as she checked her phone for the twelfth time in a minute. They could make it work. She and Bridget could make anything work. Bridget didn’t need to know that Alex’s dad had pitched in for the adoption fee and all the necessities, at least not for a few weeks.

  The key turned in the door. Bridget walked in, shuffling through the day’s mail. “Babe, your dad sent a letter. He knows he can just call you, right? That’s adorable, though. Tell him he can send me letters, too.”

  Alex dried her palms on her jeans and cleared her throat.

  “Or not. That’s your thing. I get it,” Bridget said, still not looking up as she walked into the kitchen. “The rest are just bills. Blah.”

  Alex stood. “Bridge.”

  Bridget threw the mail onto the kitchen table and turned to open the fridge. “Yeah?”

  “After you showed me Benny’s picture the other day, I just couldn’t seem to get him out of my head.”

  Bridget paused, shut the fridge, and edged out of the kitchen. When her gaze landed on the sleeping dog, her face lit up. “You didn’t!”

  Alex shuffled her weight. A blush rose to her cheeks. She lived for making Bridget happy.

  “Benny!” Bridget shouted, alerting the dog. She kneeled down, and Benny lumbered to his feet to sniff the new arrival. He licked her hand. “I think he likes me,” she said, nearing a squeal.

  “I think he does,” Alex said.

  Bridget scratched the dog’s ears. “I will pet you later, in two seconds, but first…” She stood and threw her arms around Alex. “I think you love me.”

  Alex pulled away, grinning. “I still do, but you’ve been edged out of the number-one spot.”

  “For Benny?”

  “For Benny.”

  Bridget shrugged. “I’m weirdly okay with that.”

  Alex laughed, and when Bridget kissed her, all her worries slipped away. All that mattered was here in this tiny living room.

  Now

  “You’re a mess, you know that?” Lu said, laughing, once Alex finished recounting the dinner debacle from a few days
back.

  Lu, Jordan, and Owen were lined up on stools at the bar. At least Owen, with little Keiko strapped to his chest, had the decency to look embarrassed for her.

  Alex rolled her eyes as she refilled Lu’s beer. “Yes, I’m well aware. You can stop laughing now.”

  “No, I really can’t,” Lu said between laughs. “Too funny.”

  Jordan smacked her on the back of the head, and she finally shut up. “Give her a break. She’s obviously having a crisis.”

  Alex held up her hands. “Oh, my God. I’m not having a crisis. I’m just…” In fact, she was still simmering with anger. She picked up a clean rag and started wiping out glasses to give her hands something to do. “Every time I go to the grocery store or the post office—hell, when I serve a customer here, everyone has this look in their eye. They all want to give me advice on my love life. Do you know how invasive that is, to have a whole town know your baggage? I just need some breathing room.”

  “Are you sure you’re not imagining it?” Owen asked.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Then maybe they’re onto something. When you look at her, when she walks into the bar, how do you feel?”

  Alex crossed her arms on the bar top and slumped down. She felt a lot of things, and most of the time, she couldn’t make sense of any of them. But the overriding emotion was always anger. Anger mixed with pain.

  “She looks pretty good. Does that…stir anything in you?” Lu asked.

  Alex threw the rag at her.

  “Hey! I’m just trying to help!”

  “You’re not,” Jordan said, smirking. “You’re causing trouble.”

  Lu waggled her shoulder. “What can I say? It’s what I do best!”

  Alex rolled her eyes at her friends, but fondly.

  “Maybe you need some time to yourselves, away from everybody and everything. Away from potential interruptions, too,” said Owen.

  “As far as I’m concerned,” Alex said, “nothing will come out of that conversation anyway, so why try?”