“How did he die?” he asked gently, stopping and making eye contact. Her eyes were wide and yet guarded, the brown irises closed off, but the whites of her eyes seemed bigger, a contradiction of nonverbal signals.
“A car accident.” The words slipped out of her mouth so simply, and yet he knew they were packed with hundreds of layers of meaning.
“I am so sorry. Were you—” He started to ask whether she was in the car but stopped, feeling like a jerk. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths and the hand he held in his trembled. The topic clearly upset her and he felt like an ass for bringing it up. And yet, it meant something special. If he could just understand her better…
“Was I in the car? No.” For the first time in the conversation she added something he hadn’t asked. “But my mom was. And my aunt and uncle.”
“Your mom’s still alive, you said.”
“Yes. My dad and uncle died, but my mom and aunt lived.”
“Oh, Josie.” Emotion filled his voice as the impact of what her childhood must have been like hit him. “That’s horrible. Were your mom and aunt okay?”
She snorted, shaking her head. “Define ‘okay.’” The smirk that crossed her face was like a wall slamming shut between them.
“I’m upsetting you.”
“You’re not doing anything. I just…I’ve never talked about this with a guy before. Ever.”
His heart melted as it pounded against his ribs. Now he was getting somewhere. “If you don’t want to talk, I understand.”
“What about your mother?” she asked.
“She’s a clinical psychologist. Alive. Forty-six.”
Josie appeared to do the math. “And you’re twenty-nine?”
“Eight.”
“Oooo, I'm older than you.”
“I like my women mature,” he joked.
“Then find another woman, because 'mature' and 'Josie' definitely do not go together.”
I doubt that, he thought, but said nothing, just smiling. The silence between them was comfortable. Warm. Tentative.
Josie broke it. “So she had you…”
“Had me two days after she graduated high school.”
“And she earned a Ph.D.?” A low whistle of appreciation escaped her lips. “Smart woman.”
“Determined woman. You have no idea,” he added.
“No one wants to date a guy whose mother is an overachieving psychologist. You know that, right?” she teased.
“Before you decide that, what does your mom do?” he joked back.
The look on her face made him regret it. “She’s…”
“You don’t have to answer.”
Squaring her shoulders, Josie seemed to struggle with how to answer. The pink straps of her tank top faded to light gray in the waning sunlight, the moon peeking out behind a cloud. Tipping her face up to meet his eyes, she seemed ethereal. Like a fairy, the edges of her brown hair glowing slightly, the shine of the low light on her eyes making them more aware than usual.“We’re being open, right?”
“We’re trying.” You’re trying. Alex was already open.
“She’s a barfly.”
“Oh.” What the hell do you say to that?
“Not quite a Ph.D.” The acerbic tone was back. “And my dad was a librarian.” She said it defensively, as if it counterbalanced her mother's behavior.
“I’m not judging.” And really, he wasn’t. Whatever made Josie the woman she was—a nurse in a well-respected clinical trial—had been through grit and determination. Just like him. Just like his mom. Scratching the surface of Josie’s shell took some time and hard work. Fortunately, he had both at his disposal, though plenty of the latter. The former depended on her.
“She wasn’t always like this. The head injury in the accident…” Her voice trailed off. “You know, can we talk about something else?”
“Absolutely.”
“How about air f**king?”
Way to change the subject, right? The look on Alex’s face made Josie laugh out loud, the sound and feeling so desperately needed after getting that deep with him. Never before had she talked to any man she’d dated about her past. Her niece, Darla? Of course. Laura? Sure. Those two, and…
No one.
Not true. There was the therapist she saw during the last two years of college. Her lifesaver.
Talking about her parents with Alex felt like having someone reach into her chest, through bone and sinew and muscle, and wrap their palm around her heart, squeezing it until all the blood dripped out. His reaction allowed the blood back in.
Restoring basic respiratory and circulatory functioning would take a while.
Danger sex could provide a shortcut.
He leaned in and put his lips right next to her earlobe, making her shiver. “Are you serious?”
“I never joke about air f**king.”
He inhaled sharply. “Neither do I. Shall we go for a walk?” he asked, gesturing toward the park. Their path had taken them in parallel to it, a block from Josie’s apartment, and they needed to cross the street. A thrill of heat flooded her. Changing the subject had been easy enough—mention sex to any guy and it was like that dog in the movie Up. Squirrel! Truth be told, she was struggling with the whole emotionally open thing and wanted to get back to her comfort zone. Except that wasn’t possible; once she crossed over into the touchy-feely baggage-sharing phase, she couldn’t stuff it all back in.
And that was okay, because Alex could stuff something else in her.
Their pace didn’t change, still a slow stroll, but the connection between them had altered from the moment she took the leap, and now the air between their bodies crackled with the forbidden. They crossed the street; Josie noted how few cars were out. By the time they reached the park’s outer edge, she found herself scanning the area with danger sex in mind. The baseball lights weren’t on. Sign #1 that this was meant to be.
Her eyes landed on a small garden on the far side of a building that typically blocked the view from her apartment. On the occasional walks she’d taken over the years, she’d registered it, but now, as they rounded the building, she realized it was perfect, made for what she and Alex were seeking. Sign #2. Add a trash can and a soft layer of moss and—
Whoa. Signs #3 and #4 screamed out to her, as if nature (or the Cambridge Parks and Recreation department) had read her mind.
What a wonderful world.