“Well, I guess Alexa asked a few questions about you . . . and then they all ended up telling their, um, strikingly similar, I guess, stories of how you broke up with them.”
Shit. Drew dropped his head in his hands. That was why Alexa had been so upset all of a sudden. Carlos kept talking.
“She didn’t tell me exactly what they said, and she said Alexa didn’t seem upset about it, but . . .”
Drew lifted his head.
“She does a great fake smile. It fools most people.”
“But not you?” Carlos asked, sliding him his beer. Drew pushed it away.
“But not me.” He sighed. “She didn’t tell you what they said?”
Carlos took a handful of fries.
“No, but I can guess.” He raised his eyebrows, and Drew waved at him to continue. Better to get this over with. “I mean, I’ve seen your pattern. After a month or two, when things are going well, you give them the ‘Let’s be friends’ speech. Maybe she thought that was about to happen to her?”
He closed his eyes. Of course she’d thought that.
Carlos patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, man. I think you can fix this.” He paused. “If you want to fix it?”
He couldn’t remember ever wanting something more.
“Of course I want to fix it, just like I want my med school loans to be magically wiped out, and every sick kid in our hospital to be well, and my knee to stop hurting when I run more than ten miles, but I know all of that is impossible, too.” He sat back against the couch cushions, taking his beer with him.
Carlos put down his food and stood up.
“So you’re just going to give up? You’re not even going to try to get her back?”
“What good would it do?” He sighed. “Plus, it’s not like I know how to have a real relationship. Even if it did work, I’d just fuck it up again.”
Carlos sat back down in the corner of the couch. The asshole was in Alexa’s spot.
“Did you tell her how you felt about her? How you really feel?”
He’d tried, but . . . He shrugged.
“Forget whether she hates you—she doesn’ t—or if you’d fuck things up again—you would, but you’d figure it out.” Carlos pushed a burger in his direction. He ignored it. “The real question is: how do you feel about Alexa? Because if you can’t answer that question—honestly, and in a way that satisfies her—there’s no real point in even trying to fix this.”
Drew closed his eyes. He pictured Alexa laughing up at him in the elevator, Alexa dancing with him at the wedding, Alexa smiling at him from their pilfered towel in Dolores Park, Alexa eating tacos on his couch, Alexa frowning at her computer screen, oblivious to him, Alexa whispering “coffee” in his ear early in the morning, Alexa pulling his head down onto her shoulder when he’d flown to her side, Alexa tucked inside the curve of his arms in his bed.
He opened his mouth. But the words stuck in his throat.
Carlos shook his head.
“It’s okay, man. You don’t have to tell me. But you’ve got to tell her.”
Drew put his head in his hands.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Carlos leaned back against the couch cushions and propped his feet up on an empty spot on the coffee table.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Alexa woke up on Saturday morning, determined that this would be the day that she called Olivia.
Wednesday, she’d decided for sure to talk to her sister. But she hadn’t wanted to do it when either one of them was at work, because that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have inside her office when she might be overheard.
Thursday, she decided to call her when she got home after work, since it would only be around nine or ten New York time and Olivia would still be awake. But by the time she got home that night, it was seven thirty and she decided that was too late.
Friday, she’d admitted to herself she was procrastinating. But she decided Saturday was a better day for a conversation like this anyway. Which meant she had to actually make that call today.
Or Sunday? Maybe Sunday was an even better day for a call like this?
She threw back the covers and forced herself out of bed to make coffee. No, she had to do it today. She’d barely been able to concentrate on anything this week, between this hanging over her head and the thoughts of Drew, which were constantly in her head.
Maddie was right. She should have told him how she’d felt. At least then she wouldn’t have this constant, overwhelming feeling of regret.
And at least she wouldn’t feel like such a coward.
She downed a cup of coffee and shook off the thoughts of Drew. She just needed to get through this week. If she got through the city council meeting on Thursday, win or lose, she could spend the entire next weekend in bed wallowing with French fries and ice cream.