Lisa Desrochers - A Little Too Much

“Where would you like this in the meantime?” Alessandro says, and I realize I’ve left him standing there holding my coffee table.

Jess looks around. “Maybe we can lean it on that wall?” she says, pointing to the wall next to the couch.

Alessandro slides it across the floor to the corner and leans it, legs out, against the wall behind an armchair. “Are you going to be okay from here?”

That’s a really good question, but as I look around at the apartment, I realize the answer is yes. Maybe Jess is right. Maybe this was meant to be, because I feel a sudden wave of relief. I didn’t realize how tense living with Brett had become until now, when I don’t have to do it anymore. That frustrated, wrong feeling is totally gone. “Yeah. I’m good.”

“The children are doing a Christmas show at the youth center tonight. It’s open to the public if you ladies would like to come.”

Funnily, I sort of want to say yes, but . . . “I promised my sister we’d be there for dinner.” He nods and turns for the door, but then I remember I have his gift. “Wait!” I go to the bag and pull it out. It’s a little bit smashed and I almost change my mind. “Here,” I finally say, thrusting it at him. “Merry Christmas.”

He takes the wrapped tube from my hand and laughs at the cockroach bow, then squints a question at me.

“Just open it.”

He pulls off the cockroach and slides it in his pocket, then slowly slips off the wrapping paper . . . and smiles. “Salomé.”

I shrug. “I hope you like it.”

His smile widens and his eyes spark. “There’s something about a woman who has her shit together.”

I cringe a little, remembering that’s what I said about her at the museum.

His eyes lift from the rolled print to me. “She reminds me of you.”

I cringe deeper.

He backs toward the door. “Don’t forget. We have a date at the youth center tomorrow morning.”

I roll my eyes. “Ten. I’ll be there.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure,” he says with a smile that makes my cheeks warm again, then he disappears through the door.

“You’ve got it bad,” Jess says, and I realize I’m just standing here staring after him.

“What are you talking about?”

“You want him, Hilary. You’re blushing. I’ve never seen you blush before.”

I hate what I’m feeling is so obvious on my face. I’ve spent my entire life learning to hide my emotions. How does being around Alessandro turn me back to that girl so easily? Just one more reason I shouldn’t be around him. “I just hauled a five-thousand-pound table halfway across Manhattan, Jess.”

She shrugs and gives me a knowing smile.

“Which means I could use a shower before we go. Can I use yours?”

“It’s yours now,” she says with a goofy smile. Then she goes all Mississippi and jumps up and down, making me laugh. “This is going to be so awesome!”

JESS IS ON the floor with Henri, building one of his four new Lego sets, Jeff is bundled up with Max on the back deck looking through the telescope Mallory and he bought the boys, and Mallory and I are on the couch. I’ve filled her in on Brett’s and my breakup, and when she heard how Jess took me in off the street, she offered her leftovers to take home—Mallory’s seal of approval.

“So this guy . . . the one who helped you move . . . ?”

“What about him?” I ask, but I know where she’s going. Ever since I mentioned he was back and saw her reaction, I’ve avoided talking about him with her.

“Alessandro,” Jess says from the floor. “I think your sister’s crushing on him.”

Mallory’s eyes narrow as they find mine again, then she stands abruptly, grabbing my hand and pulling me up. “Excuse us for a minute, Jessica.”

She drags me up the hall to her bedroom and closes the door. “Please, Hilary, tell me this isn’t him,” she says under her breath.

“It’s him.”

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks through a tight jaw.

“He’s helping me, Mallory. He’s a friend. That’s all.” I feel myself cringe as I try to justify the unjustifiable. I know Mallory’s right. I’ve known from the beginning. It’s the reason I told him we can’t hang out. It’s too dangerous.

But I can’t stay away from him.

“Why is he back?” She drops onto the edge of her bed, wringing her hands. “Why did he come back after all this time?”

“His father died in the 9/11 attacks. I guess he just needed some closure.”

“That’s all he wants? Closure?”

“Nothing’s going to change, Mallory. I promise.”

She hangs her head. “I’ve worried about this for so long . . . what would happen if . . .” She trails off and blows out a breath, then looks back up at me. “You’re okay, though? He’s not—”

I shake my head. “His brother was the problem, and he’s gone . . . dead.”

“Oh.” She stands and straightens her skirt. “I still don’t like it, Hilary. I wish you wouldn’t see him.”

“It will be fine. I swear.” God, I hope I’m not lying. “He doesn’t know anything that happened after he left.”

She looks relieved. “Just be careful. Promise.”

“I promise.”

I WAKE UP in the morning on Jess’s couch, and despite the lumps, I feel more rested than I have in a long time. But I’ve barely opened my eyes when Dev is blasting out of my phone. My alarm.

I pick it up and look at it. Eight thirty. Ugh. I should have told Alessandro that ten o’clock wasn’t going to happen. I turn off the alarm and close my eyes, but before I can fall back asleep, Creed is blasting out of my phone.

“Shut up!” I tell them as I reach for it, clicking off the ringer. “What?” I croak when I connect.

“You’ve turned off your alarm, haven’t you?” There’s a teasing lilt to his silk accent, and I want to choke him.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I know you.”

When I realize the truth in his words, it scares me. I’ve hidden who I am for so long, afraid of the questions from Mallory and Jeff, afraid of the feeding frenzy if anyone else saw the fear and insecurity. But Alessandro knew me before, when I was just me. He knew me before everything happened and I put up the walls.

He’s beautiful. Still. There’s no denying I’m attracted to him, but I can’t let him close again. I should never have gone to his place on Christmas Eve.

“You have to tell me what’s worth getting out of . . . couch so early for, or I’m not coming.”

“I’d think you’d know by now that I’m not going to divulge that information. It’s Thursday, it’s my turn, and you have to uphold our pact.”

“Our pact?”

“Unless you want to be done with our Thursday excursions.”

I rub my eyes and grimace, furious with myself that I can’t say no. “I’ll be there,” I say, sweeping the blanket off and sitting on the couch.

“Excellent. Wear something comfortable.”

I open my mouth to ask why, but I know he’s not going to tell me. “Fine.”

AT TEN SHARP I’m standing in the doorway of the Catholic youth center. It’s basically a gym. There’s a half court just inside the door, complete with a parquet wooden floor and a regulation backboard and hoop. But right now, in the middle of it are seven six-year-old girls in black leotards and pink tights standing at a portable dance bar. On the other side of the half court is a row of free weight benches where a group of teenage boys are working out, and beyond that is a small boxing ring.

Standing between the weights and the boxing ring, Alessandro is talking to a pretty blond woman who’s probably a hair older than him. He’s in a snug black tank and loose athletic shorts and for a second I can’t take my eyes off the contours of his biceps and the vein running down his forearm. God, he’s got sexy arms. But then the blonde reaches out and brushes her fingers down one of those biceps, yanking me out of my daze.

She’s in black yoga pants, which happens to be what I’m wearing. But where, under my jacket, I’m in a frumpish tank top, she’s in a sports bra. Her ass is round, her stomach is flat, her boobs are perky, and she’s pretty.

Really pretty.

Something in my gut twists as I step through the door and start moving toward them. I skirt around the half court and one of the boys at the weight benches whistles through his teeth as I pass. That catches Alessandro’s attention and he looks away from Ms. Perky Boobs.

“Ah, and here she is,” he says as I approach. He grasps my elbow and pulls me closer. “Marie, this is my friend Hilary.” He tips his head and smiles at me, but there’s something mischievous in it. “Hilary, this is your new dance instructor, Marie.”

My eyes shoot to her and back. “What?”

“You said you needed dance lessons. Marie is an accomplished dancer. She trained with the Joffrey Ballet School.”

“It’s nice to meet you Hilary,” she says, holding out her hand.

I shake it because anything else would be rude, even for me, then glance at the girls at the half court. “That’s your class?”

“Yep. We’re just about to start,” she answers, then turns to Alessandro and smiles. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner?” She sweeps her fingers down the vein in his arm as she asks and the stab of jealousy I feel as he smiles back surprises me.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

They’re dating. I knew it. There’s no mistaking the body language. Alessandro is beautiful. There’s no way I’m the only person who’s noticed this. Of course women are going to flock to him. Of course they’re going to want him. But what I feel at the realization is a literal stab. It feels like someone took something sharp to my stomach. It’s totally different than what I felt with Brett. With Brett, it was more like I just didn’t want anyone touching my stuff. This is more visceral. The thought of Alessandro with someone else is painful.