“I feel like I just got a glimpse of what my future could have been,” I tell him.
He nods as if what I’m saying isn’t completely wild. “Is it a life you want?”
“No.” There’s no hesitation in my reaction. None at all.
“Even the guy?” There’s a vulnerability in Dax’s voice.
“Especially the guy.” I shift my body to face Dax, tucking my leg under my knee and scooting close so I can attempt to explain how my reaction wasn’t about wanting Stuart at all. It was just shock. And it was my brain making that final click into place, sorting through my changing feelings about Dax.
“I think he may have been one of those decisions you were talking about earlier. Where my heart knew it wasn’t right but my head overruled with practical reasons why I should stay in that relationship. And I need to explain something to you. It might not make complete sense, but I need you to roll with it.”
Dax nods.
“I want you, Dax. Every day it becomes even more clear to me how stupid I’ve been. I am better when I am with you. That whole meltdown I had before lunch, where I looked into my future and freaked the fuck out, and then you Master Yoda’d me into realizing what I really want? I need that in my life. I need you in my life. You are good for me, and I’m hoping I can be as good for you.”
Dax’s hand cups the side of my face. He doesn’t say a word, but he pulls me toward him, and our foreheads meet for a few moments before my lips meet his for a long kiss.
I realize two things.
This very moment, here, might be the happiest of my entire life.
And in my other one, it never would have happened.
Chapter 22
I sleep through most of the train ride home with my head on Dax’s shoulder, content with the world around me.
Dax walks me home from the station. We have a quick sidewalk make-out before he heads off to curling. Sunny, Dougie, and Brandon are all available to play this evening. My substitutional services are not needed, so I head over to Aunt Livi’s place to hang out.
Although her bookstore is closed for the day, there’s a group of about ten women gathered in a circle, matching paperbacks in their laps, each holding a lit candle. Weird for normal people. Not so weird for Aunt Livi.
Not wanting to interrupt, I gesture to Aunt Livi that I will let myself upstairs. She hands her candle to a heavyset woman with wild curls and meets me at the entrance to the back hallway.
“You had a good day with Daxon, I see.” Her tone is more comment than question, and although I’m tempted to ask how she knew he’d turn up, I know her well enough to know that even if I ask, I won’t get a straight answer.
“We had the best day.” I’m still high on the memories. “It feels like my life is finally falling into place. I don’t really know how to explain it.”
My perfect mood is temporarily marred as Aunt Livi’s eyes shift to something behind me and her face clouds for the briefest of moments.
“I love that for you, poodle. But maybe you should head upstairs. And be quick about it.”
She shoos me off. Actually, to be more accurate, she shoves me off—down the dark hallway that leads to the stairs up to her store-top apartment. I ignore the weird vibes of our parting and follow her command until I’m halfway down the hallway and the bathroom door flings open and someone steps out.
“I’m so sorry, dear, pardon me.”
Her face isn’t familiar, but she looks like most women in my aunt’s book clubs: in her fifties, wild curly hair, lots of jewelry, smells like a mix of sage and roses, although the rose part could be the lingering scent of my aunt’s bathroom hand soap.
“No worries at all.” I step aside to let her pass, but as she moves by me, she halts mid-step. Turning, she grabs me by the wrists and looks straight into my eyes, pinning me to the wall with her intense stare. I get the strange sensation she’s looking for my soul.
“You don’t belong here.” Her words feel like arrows piercing my chest, and even though I don’t think she intends them to be an insult, they feel like one.
“I’m Livi’s niece. I’m not part of the book club. I’m just heading up to her apartment.”
I move to leave, but she doesn’t let go of my wrists. She steps in even closer, studying my face. “That’s not what I meant. You’re not from here. You don’t belong.”
She lets go of my hands and steps away. There’s enough room between us to escape now. To slip away from her and her eerily intense stare and retreat to Aunt Livi’s apartment, where I can ease my feelings with pinot grigio and the stash of mint chip Aunt Livi keeps in her freezer for emergencies, but I’m rooted to the spot.