Love Redesigned Page 15

  “Did you text Darius? I’m sure he’d reach out to his uncle for you.”

  I looked at my hands. I’d thought about texting Darius. Multiple times. “I . . . no.”

  Her face softened. “You didn’t think you could.”

  “It felt wrong to text him for something I needed when I haven’t for anything else. I didn’t even text him on his birthday.”

  “Chase took good care of him on his birthday. I promise.”

  “Still.”

  “Maybe I can try,” Dani said. “I’ll text Darius and ask him.”

  I held her gaze. “You’d do that?”

  “I mean, I don’t expect it to work, but sure. Darius will be straight with us about whether or not he thinks it’s an option. I don’t know. It can’t hurt, right?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind trying, that would be amazing.” I stood there, in between her and the door, wondering if there was anything else I should say.

  She leaned her head back against the cushions and closed her eyes. She looked sad. Broken.

  I hadn’t heard everything she’d said to Isaac about why she was in Charleston. I really had tried to give them their privacy. But she was here. With suitcases. And Isaac had said she was down on her luck which could only mean one thing.

  I took a step forward and lowered myself down beside her. “Dani, do you want to talk about what happened? I know I’m probably not your first choice, but I’m happy to listen if you need it.”

  She opened her eyes. “I probably should talk about it.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “But honestly . . .”

  “You don’t want to talk about it with me?”

  “That’s just it. There probably isn’t anyone who would understand quite as well as you, which is frustrating. Because you’re you,, and I really didn’t want you to be right. But you were. Sasha is a lying, cheating, conniving woman and I’m so angry that I fell for her lies. That I believed her for so long. She cost me everything. My career. My life in New York. Everything.”

  I tightened my hands into fists, wishing I could punch out the anger surging in my chest. I wasn’t surprised, but I’d always hoped Dani would manage to escape LeFranc relatively unscathed. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. For a while, I’d hoped she’d go down in flames with the rest of them. Time, at least, had dulled the sting of her choosing LeFranc over me, enough that I felt bad for her present circumstances. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a tiny part of me that still wanted to say I told you so.

  “I’m really sorry, Dani.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you are. It’s fine if you want to say I told you so.”

  I winced, not happy that she’d hit so close to the mark. “I don’t want to say I told you so,” I said, happy I sounded like I meant it. “For your sake, I would have much preferred to be wrong about Sasha.”

  She shook her head and breathed out a tiny laugh. “I don’t believe that’s true, Alex.”

  I didn’t say anything. What was there to even say?

  She reached over and patted my knee. “Listen. We have to get along for the next couple of months.” She motioned to the room around her. “Obviously this isn’t a permanent solution for me. Let’s just agree not to talk about how everything went down between us. I’ll cook for the seven dwarves and then as soon as I can afford it, I’ll be out of everyone’s way.”

  Her words were dismissive, condescending, but laced with a measure of hurt that made her seem vulnerable, even in her anger. It was as if she longed to be comforted but would prickle at the first touch if anyone actually offered that comfort. Maybe she would just prickle if I offered her comfort.

  Also, dwarves?

  It wasn’t how I wanted to leave things. But if I pushed the conversation, I might end up saying something I would regret. I didn’t want to leave things like that, either. I clapped my hands against my knees. “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she said back.

  “Fine,” I repeated again. Not surprisingly, as I stood to leave Dani in the pathetic, empty room, nothing actually felt fine.

  Three weeks in, I didn’t want to admit to myself how much I was trying to be wherever Dani was. Particularly when considering how gutted being around her actually made me feel. It hadn’t been easy to get over her. She wouldn’t believe me saying so; I’m sure she thought since I was the one who had walked away, I’d felt little and had recovered quickly. But leaving had killed me. Even knowing that I’d had to do it. At least at Isaac’s, there had been plenty to distract me, to keep my mind off how miserable I felt. Then time had done its work and dulled the constant ache.

  But now I couldn’t escape her. I saw her every day.

  Worse, I wanted to see her.

  I stopped working at the desk in my bedroom and instead opted for the kitchen table where I might run into her. I ate three meals a day out of Isaac’s kitchen, cutting back on the lunches out that had become part of my regular routine. If Isaac or any of the other guys noticed my sudden eagerness to always be around, they kept their mouths shut. Fortunately, Dani had no baseline for my previous behavior so she couldn’t know I’d never spent quite so much time at home.

  Admittedly, home had an entirely different meaning now that Dani was around. The house was actually beginning to feel like one. There were new throw pillows in the living room and a rug in the entryway. She’d hung a seasonal wreath on the front door and had a row of hooks installed in the hall where everyone put their coats. New dinnerware showed up in the kitchen. She was even planning a Thanksgiving dinner for us.

  I wasn’t the only one appreciating her presence. The rest of the guys, except Isaac of course, were clearly mesmerized by her. Running her errands, completing odd jobs at her request—it was Mushroom who had installed the hooks in the hall—and just generally behaving with a little more decorum. They were all showering more frequently and wearing clothes that actually looked clean.

  Observing the shift in behavior would probably qualify as a fascinating study for any anthropologist. I was just grateful everyone smelled better.

  As for Dani and Isaac, they danced around each other in a careful choreography; they were kind and courteous, but their interactions were safely surface level. It couldn’t last, I was sure, but I did hope that when one of them finally cracked, it would be a positive change and not one that brought the whole, fragile set-up crashing down around all of us.

  I leaned back onto my bed and scrolled through old photos on my phone—old photos that had become newly familiar since running into Dani at Java Jean’s two months before.

  Every time I looked at the images, I was struck again by how different and far away my New York life felt. I stopped on a shot of Dani and me, arms around each other. I wore a designer suit, Dani a dress I remembered she’d made herself. She looked killer in it; she always did when she wore her own stuff. We held glasses of champagne in our hands and had huge smiles on our faces. I couldn’t remember anything else about that particular night. There were so many nights just like it, they had all blended together. Nameless clubs, private parties, fashion events we’d only ever had tickets to because of who my stepfather was.

  It had always thrilled Dani to go. Even after she got the job at LeFranc, her role as an administrative assistant hadn’t warranted exclusive invitations. Only I could provide those. It had been a heady feeling, in the early months, to realize I could give her access to the world she found so captivating. I had been her golden ticket. And I’d relished making her happy.

  In my weakest moments, I wondered if that’s all our relationship had ever been. But it made Dani too shallow for me to think so. Regardless of the choices she’d made, and the way things had ended, I couldn’t ignore the parts of our relationship that had been really good. Even since she’d moved to Charleston, though she’d mostly avoided me at first, I’d occasionally catch her in the kitchen, and we’d fall into talking about one thing or another in the same easy way we always had before. Finishing each other’
s sentences, laughing together. Even now, there was still a compatibility to the way we interacted that went far beyond just going places together. It had only been stronger before we’d broken up.

  Still, there was something different about Charleston Dani. She was more laid back, less intense. Less ambitious. Not that ambition was a bad thing, but Dani had been so focused on her career, it had colored everything. I’d spent enough time competing with the LeFrancs for my mother’s attention. It had killed me to fight the same battle with Dani. But it felt like Charleston Dani had finally ripped off the rose-colored glasses she’d worn when looking at anything fashion—anything LeFranc—and was seeing life in a different, more natural light. Whenever I felt the pull—because I did feel it—I had to wonder if this version of her would last. If given the chance, would she jump back into the world she’d left behind? The answer to that question mattered because it was a world I didn’t want to be a part of.

  I scrolled to another photo, this one of Dani in her Chelsea apartment, leaning back against the headboard of her bed. Her blonde hair was loose and wavy, and the neck of her oversized sweatshirt had slipped down onto her arm, revealing a smooth stretch of neck and shoulder that made heat rise in my body. I remembered that morning, the time we’d spent lounging, talking. We’d stayed in all day, ordered take-out, watched ridiculous television for hours. The next photo was the same day, same setting. Only in this photo, Dani was sitting up, a playful smile on her face. She held up a small whiteboard, a marker tossed to the side. The words on the whiteboard read: Just for the record, I said “I love you” first, followed by the date.

  “I’m just saying,” she’d said, “one day we’ll be happy we preserved this moment. Our grandchildren will look back through our photos and feel inspired that their grandmother had been bold enough to say it first.”

  “I think they’ll be too shocked by how sexy their grandmother once was to even care who said I love you first,” I had countered.

  “Are you saying I won’t still be sexy when I’m a grandma?” Dani had asked.

  I’d grabbed her then, ignoring her squeals as I tossed her back onto the bed, pinning her arms above her head. I’d leaned in close, my nose inches from hers. “You might have said it first, but I hope that doesn’t diminish how much I mean it when I say it back.”

  A knock sounded behind me on my open bedroom door. “Hey, Alex?”

  I jumped at the sound of Dani’s voice, closing out my photos and tossing my phone onto the bed. I sat up. “Hi. What’s up?”

  She eyed me curiously. Had she seen what I was looking at? “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “You okay?”

  “Sure. Of course. I’m . . .” I swallowed. “Everything’s fine.” I followed her to the kitchen where the rest of the guys were already seated at the table. Isaac had something pulled up on his phone, and everyone leaned over, watching the tiny screen. Dani moved to the cabinet and pulled out six plates then started dishing up the first one.

  Something didn’t sit right. It was bad enough she’d been put in this position; serving a house full of men in order to earn her keep felt archaic in a way that made me cringe. But that was between her and her brother. Still, she’d only agreed to cook. She didn’t need to serve everyone. Wait on us like we were at some restaurant.

  “Hey, Dani?”

  She turned around, a full plate in hand. There was a smudge of something on her cheek that I hadn’t noticed before. Spaghetti sauce, maybe? I crossed the kitchen to where she stood and motioned to the plate she held. “Here. This one is yours. You don’t have to serve the rest of us.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” she said.

  “But it is,” I said. “Don’t condition them to think this is how it should be. You doing all the work while they sit around. You cooked. That’s all you agreed to do. They can fix their own plates. And do the dishes.”

  She huffed. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  “They’ll learn,” I told her. “I’ll make sure of it.” I scooted behind her and nudged her toward the table. “Come on. Go sit.” I followed behind her, worried that someone at the table might say something when she sat with her own food before anyone else had a plate.

  To my surprise and relief, no one did. The conversation paused momentarily, everyone seemed to internalize what was happening, and then Isaac stood and went to fix himself a plate, the others following closely behind. Maybe there was actual hope for them after all.

  I watched Dani a moment longer, and something familiar surged in my chest. Something . . . protective? It wasn’t quite the right word. Dani was strong and independent and didn’t need protecting. At least not in her brother’s house. But the look on her face said she was grateful to be sitting, not serving, and it made me happy that I’d had a small part in that. And that’s what felt familiar. The desire to make her happy. Which made sense since I’d dedicated almost a year of my life to that singular pursuit.

  Dani mostly stayed to herself during dinner, which was probably smart. Whenever the other guys were around, Isaac tended to amplify his teasing. Dani could hardly say anything at all without him turning it into a joke.

  “Hey Dani, you going for a run in the morning?” Isaac asked his sister.

  She studied him a long moment, probably trying to see if he was setting a trap. “I’m planning on it. Why?” she finally answered.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Isaac shot me a look I didn’t understand. “I was just curious. No reason, really.”

  “Do you want to come with me?” Dani asked, hesitation in her voice.

  “What? No,” Isaac said. “You know I don’t run unless someone’s chasing me.”

  “I, uh,” Steven said. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking I might go with you. If, you know, you don’t care or anything.”

  This time, Dani’s eyes flicked to me before she looked back at Steven. How had I become everyone’s emotional barometer? “Oh. Okay,” Dani said. “I guess that’s fine.”

  Was Steven interested in Dani? Not that I was surprised. She was beautiful and smart and all the things any man would find captivating. But the idea still didn’t sit right in my brain. Wasn’t there some sort of bro-code that kept any of Isaac’s roommates from dating his sister?

  Realization washed over me and my stomach tightened. Acknowledging just how much I wanted Dani to be happy, and how much I didn’t want Steven to run with her in the morning, felt like a giant step toward the cliff I’d been hovering around for weeks. The image of her on her bed, whiteboard in hand, I love you scrawled across the front, flashed through my mind. It shouldn’t matter, and yet it really, really did. I had fallen for her once. Hard and fast and completely. I didn’t want to watch her fall for someone else. More importantly, how was I going to be around her on a daily basis, eat her food, listen to the sound of her laugh or catch the scent of vanilla on her hair and not fall again myself?

  I’d had my reasons for ending things. Good ones. But watching her, itching to touch her, if even just to wipe the smudge of sauce off her cheek, made me wish I could forget why I’d left in the first place.

  While I finished up the dishes, Isaac came back into the kitchen. “So tomorrow morning, while Dani is running with Steven, I need you to help me out. You busy?”

  I placed the plate I was holding back into the sink and grabbed a dishtowel. “You finish the dishes and I’ll help you out in the morning.”

  He hesitated a moment before moving to the sink and picking up the discarded dish. “Hasn’t Dani been doing the dishes?”

  “It’s the twenty-first century, Isaac. She shouldn’t have to do the dishes. She’s cooking for us. This is the least we can do.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry. I’m helping. And don’t make it sound like I don’t care about her. That’s what I need your help with in the morning.”

  I raised an eyebrow and he gave me a sheepish grin.

  “I bought her some furniture. They’re going to deliver it tomorrow morning while she’s out on
her run. Help me set it up?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dani

  Steven was waiting for me in the garden when I went out for my run. The newness of his sneakers and the headband he wore across his forehead both screamed beginner, but I was hardly in a position to judge. I was much less an athlete than I was someone who appreciated the head-clearing therapy running proved to be.

  “Good morning,” Steven said, pulling one ankle up behind him in a quad stretch.

  “Hi,” I said. I pulled out my headphones but then hesitated. Steven didn’t have any. Would it be rude for me to wear mine? It’s not like we’d be taking a leisurely stroll around the battery. We were going to be running. No way I could talk and breathe and run all at the same time. Not without hyperventilating. “I hope you don’t mind,” I said, holding up the earbuds. “I figure we won’t be able to talk much anyway, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Steven said. “I totally get it.”

  Still, I could see the hesitation in his eyes. So he did want to talk. The realization made me nervous. I hadn’t known Steven very long and had spent very little time with him one-on-one, but the energy around him buzzed with a certain something that made me fairly certain he wanted to ask me out.

  I walked up the narrow path that led around the house and to the sidewalk, wondering if there was a way I could head him off. Earbuds would only protect me for so long. We hit the sidewalk and turned toward the water. A cool breeze blew off the Ashley and Cooper rivers that wrapped around the city before converging in the bay and flowing out to the open ocean. The air held a slight chill, but it was still pleasant, even for the early hour. Could I claim I was still on the rebound? Nursing wounds from my last break up? It occurred to me that I didn’t even know if the other guys knew that Alex and I had ever been a thing. Isaac might have told them, but knowing Isaac, I doubted it had ever come up. For all his faults, Isaac was maybe the least prone to gossip of anyone I knew. Celebrity news held zero appeal. Even stuff pertaining to people he actually knew personally didn’t interest him. He was much more a live-and-let-live kind of guy. I’d always admired that about him.