With Demiâs quiet confession, Alex understood her fears in an entirely new light. It wasnât that sheâd changed, that heâd changed. It was that they hadnât changed together.
He could understand that, all too well. Because there was a part of him that whispered that they hadnât really fit all those years ago, not the way it would be so easy to pretend they had. Because if they had, if they had truly fit, Demi would never have left him.
Of course, it wasnât that simple; nothing was. But it was a hard voice to silence when it all came down to one thing: no matter how much he loved Demi, no matter what she felt for him, could they ever fit together in a way that really worked? That had the potential to last in more than just name?
It really was a frightening thing to confront, and worse, still, to have the question of it hanging over your head for months at a time. And yet Alex wasnât in a rush for an answer, because he knew it wasnât an answer that could come quickly. But more than that, it was an answer he wanted to know was true. Things changed, and marriages ended, but Alex didnât think he could take it, if Demi said yes, only to change her mind again. That, more than this trying, more than the uncertainty, that was what would break him.
As much as he was loath to get into the deeper truth of things between them, that night of all nights, he couldnât say nothing when Demi already seemed to fear heâd been holding back. âI know I donât have to do anything where youâre concerned. And I knowâ I know it might seem âŠâ Well, a hundred different things, really, but all it boiled down to was this: âIâm not trying to put a good face on things. Iâm scared of losing you, that maybe we wonât be able to work things out, that maybe we wonât fit, but Iâm not gonna regret it, Demi. No matter what happens, Iâm not gonna regret knowing you, or having married you, or moving to Eureka.â The things heâd regret had much more to do with the way heâd obviously failed her, all those years ago. âI have questions, and I have things I need to say, but itâs notâ Iâm trying to take this slow, too. Iâm trying to take it one day at a time.â
His heart leapt, pulse racing ahead of reality for a beat, then two, and then regret and relief swirled in a potent mix, making Alex sway in place. If Demi was even half as affected as he by the clasping of wrists, he definitely should put on a shirt. Immediately. The hoarseness in her voice, the want in her gaze, it was so very close to everything Alex wanted. And it was tempting, oh so painfully tempting, to forget about lines and what was right because he knew one way they would still fit. There was no uncertainty in his mind on that front: that it would be good, so very good, if he pulled her close and acted on every desire he felt for her. But there was a reason heâd drawn that line, a reason that hadnât changed since heâd made his request, and as badly as Alex wanted Demi, he wanted things to be right between them more than he wanted one last time in bed. âOkay,â he managed, his mouth dry. âIâll go grab one.â But he couldnât move just yet, stuck still with her eyes on him and the tender skin of her wrist on his fingers.
âThatâs one thing that hasnât changed, then.â One thing that Alex was very okay with remaining the same about Demi. He remembered too fondly the near-disasters ( and actual disasters ) heâd been able to distract her into wreaking, sometimes on purpose, and sometimes entirely on accident. But that feeling, of being so caught up in another person that nothing else mattered, it had been a heady one, and one he knew it would be all-too-easy to lose himself to, once more. He cleared his throat, taking a step towards his bedroom, putting a little more space between them. âSounds like a plan,â he agreed, giving a firm nod. He paused in his tracks, though, when Demi asked about wine. âIââ It wasnât like they hadnât shared a glass of wine ( or swigs from a flask ) since heâd moved to town, and on the face of it, it shouldnât have been a big deal. Except for that pause, that pause that betrayed just how big of a deal it actually was. And while Alex didnât really care, one way or another ⊠âThat would be nice. You remember where it is?â
With that question answered, he forced himself to head to his bedroom, to not linger in Demiâs presence any longer. The sooner he pulled on a shirt, the sooner he could return. Except when Alex stood in front of his dresser, he found himself hesitating. A shirt was an absolute must, but as impromptu and informal as it was, this was their anniversary dinner. And maybe he should do better than a favorite pair of basketball shorts. When he emerged a few minutes later, it was wearing a henley and a pair of jeans, his feet still bare as he padded into the kitchen. âHey. So whatâs on the menu?â
Demi couldnât breathe. Not when Alex stood there, close enough for the taking, and not even long after he left. It used to be a feeling she chased after - that heady rush of standing at a cliffs edge, ready to jump. Not it just left her head in a tailspin she couldnât recover from.Â
She wanted him, desperately, but how much of it was genuine and how much of it was merely a longing for what once was?
Again, she had to reconcile with the fact that she didnât know. Rather than waste another second torturing herself for answers that wouldnât come tonight, or worse, following Alex to the bedroom, she puttered through the kitchen to gather her supplies.Â
Several minutes later she was elbows deep in the fridge when he walked back in. She glanced up with a new smile, then froze. If the sight of him in basketball shorts and little else was a temptation, somehow seeing Alex dressed yet barefoot in the comfort of his own home was even worse. Still crouched at the lowest shelf, and with a mouth gone suddenly dry, Demi swallowed. âYou look... really nice.â
It didnât do a man like her husband justice, not by a long shot, but beyond that her useless tongue refused to comply. Demi rose, empty handed, and brushed her palms along her outer thighs. âNow I kind of wish I wouldâve taken them time to change between the airport and your door.â Leggings and a loose shirt were comfortable enough for a flight, but they hardly felt adequate for this do-over they found themselves sat with.Â
She couldnât regret the haste in which sheâd rushed there, though. At the time, sheâd only had one thought, one objective, in mind.Â
Still feeling somewhat bashful, and with the spots of pink on her cheeks to prove it, Demi chuckled. Then, remembering what sheâd been in the midst of when Alex stepped into the room, she rushed for the opposite counter. âHere... I hope you donât mind white?â She held out one of two glasses before her eyes darted for the ingredients spread across his kitchen island. âI was thinking I could make kebabs?âÂ
Her culinary skills hadnât improved over the years, but sheâd learned to cook at least that much from her mom. âI thought you could sit and relax while I prep everything, and we could talk, then once Iâm finished we could throw them on the grill.â An idea that sounded promising at the time, but now drew her up short. âDo you... have a grill?âÂ
She hadnât paused to think about that - hadnât stopped to remind herself this wasnât her home where she knew what to find where, even stumbling in the dark and half blind.
