Page 163 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Missy would help. But judging by the dildo debacle I wasn’t sure I could trust her with my kids. Mr. Pickles was a different story. As fussy as he was, he needed far less active care than a small child would. Would it mean I’d need to move? My current apartment was small. Perfect for two adults—but a child? No.

Which meant even if she was willing to help, she wouldn’t be conveniently across the hallway.

I knew there were a lot of single parents out there. Like Lacey, for one. And that they managed every single day, somehow—like magic. But I couldn’t…fathom doing that. Being a dad—without my mom nearby.

Catching up with Lacey was nice. She was more calm than my mother, and more expressive than Joe and my dad. She was more curious about my work life than anyone else. Even going so far as to ask me questions about things I’d mentioned in passing at dinner that first night.

Alex came and found me a bit later. June had sobered up, which was good.

“She’s no longer allowed mimosas,” Alex said as he pulled me out of my seat next to Lacey. Like touching me was a natural thing to do, even in front of an audience. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me snug into him, his face buried in my neck, right where his bite marks still stung. Inhaling greedily, Alex’s big frame relaxed fraction by fraction.

“Everything okay?” I asked, hands suspended midair, not because I didn’t want to hug him back, but because we were being watched, and I’d never…with anyone else had to worry about PDA. I didn’t know what to do with it.

“Fine,” Alex sighed. “Just recharging.”

Just recharging.

Christ, that was cute.

As the night wore on and I remained Alex’s loyal assistant, running errands beside him, and hovering as much as he’d let me, I couldn’t help but face reality. I’d misjudged him. From that very first day, I’d thought him unserious and nonchalant. I’d assumed that nothing bothered him. That he was cocky and manipulative.

But that…couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Alex had to be the most genuine person I’d ever met. He was a hard worker. Hecared. He noticed details about everyone, and everything. He used those details to set people at ease. To make them feel seen.

When he entered a room it brightened.

He took things seriously. Maybe too seriously. His blasé attitude was only there to hide the man beneath. A person who was so desperate to do right by everyone else, I wasn’t sure he ever stopped to take time to do right by himself.

His response to my compliment had been awkward at best. Like he didn’t know what to do with praise. Like it was foreign—even though it had no right to be.

We were similar in that way.

Mirrors of one another.

And yet, opposites in almost every other regard.

I was beginning to suspect that Alex’s flirty persona was nothing but a mask. Something he’d crafted to hide behind so that he wouldn’t get hurt. A way to disguise his “intensity” as a flirtatious joke, and not an integral part of who he was.

The idea that a man like Alex could be insecure was frankly absurd.

And yet…the more I complimented him, talking him up whenever I could, making sure the rest of the partygoers understood how brilliant he was—and the more he shied away from it, the more certain I became that I was right.

I’d thought he’d offered to be my “practice boyfriend” because he felt sorry for me? At least, at first. Or because he wanted to get in my pants—which he had, and still stuck around. His motivations had been murky at best. I hadn’t understood why a man likehimwould need such a silly, ridiculous ploy just to be able to “spoil someone.”

But…as the night wore on, I couldn’t help but come to the conclusion that perhaps…the reason Alex had made the offer wasn’t because he felt pity for me, but because he was terrified of being vulnerable. Of letting someone see behind his walls.

Maybe this whole ploy had been just as beneficial for him as it had for me.

At present, we were down at the lake, playing a round of beer pong with Roderick. “We” as in Alex, because there was no way in hell I was playing a game that arbitrary. Alex was enjoying himself, gorging on pizza and teasing Roderick between bites about his “shitty aim.”

“Hope you’re not like that in bed,” Alex said around his mouthful.

Roderick chortled, tossed another “fish ball” across the water, and missed.

Alex flitted between both parties like a social butterfly.

Back and forth, back and forth, all night long.

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