Eliza felt eyes on her the entire ceremony. Standing with her sisters at the front of the room, it wasn't a surprise that she was being watched. Being part of the wedding party, they would be the subject of intense gawking.
Peggy looked beautiful, the picture-perfect blushing bride, as she gazed at Stephen. Dress form-fitting, flattering, flowing, all eyes should be on her.
Eliza and Angelica had been similarly primped and preened under Peggy's watchful and controlling eye. As the matron of honor, Angelica wore a pale yellow dress, her hair braided and draped over her shoulder. She smiled so much that Eliza knew her cheeks hurt.
Eliza's own dress was of the same make as Angelica's, soft, clinging at her waist and stopping at her ankles, though hers was a shade of lavender instead of yellow. She raised a hand to brush her braid back. It was still warm outside, even with the sun beginning to set. Her skin prickled from the heat, from the stares.
She glanced at her parents in the front row. Her mother had one hand clutched to her chest and the other gripping her father's. Eyes already shining, she only squeezed his hand harder. Philip Schuyler didn't dare let a wince be seen.
Vows and rings were exchanged. Peggy sprang to the tips of her toes to embrace Stephen as they kissed. The room burst into claps and laughter. Peggy pulled both Angelica and Eliza into a hug, muttering her thanks and smothering them with kisses.
Peggy and Stephen sauntered down the aisle and back inside the Schuyler residence. Looping her arm through Angelica's, Eliza followed.
"Did you—" Angelica started.
"Everybody come into the parlor!" Eliza called over her shoulder. Her sister's question died in the cacophony of the crowd. Eliza had no idea why she would be asking that anyway. She already knew the answer.
Once inside, everybody became scattered. A constant stream of music played, a mixture of classical and more mainstream tunes. Their parents insisted on Peggy and Stephen having their first dance be to something traditional rather than what "the kids were doing these days". They agreed without question, and they appeared to glide across the parlor floor as they shared their first dance as a married couple.
Philip and Catherine Schuyler had the second dance. Angelica and John Church had the third. Eliza finished her first glass of champagne.
"Bubbly," she murmured to herself, staring at the flute. Getting a refill, Eliza walked around the room.
She mingled with family members, faking smiles and recognition. She caught up with friends.
"I'm planning on getting sufficiently shit-faced," Hercules said.
"I can't stay for too long," Aaron said.
"Who said that? I'll show him sufficiently shit-faced," Lafayette said.
"The food is fucking great," John said.
"You look fantastic," Thomas said. "Dance with me."
Eliza would never directly tell Peggy how much she had dreaded her wedding day, though she suspected she knew. She made that sentiment clear in other terms.
"Fucking traitor," Eliza had spat, envelopes in her hands. "You can't. You wouldn't dare—"
Peggy snatched the envelope at the top of Eliza's pile. She picked up a wedding invitation and slid it inside. "It's my wedding, and he's my friend. It's not my problem what happened between—"
Eliza took a long drink of champagne. Popping her lips, she grimaced. She stood in front of the food table, glancing at the carefully placed finger foods and desserts. The chocolate-covered strawberries looked tempting. Eliza crossed an arm over her chest and raised her glass to her mouth.
From the corner of her eye, a man stood next to her. His cologne smelled of ocean air. Eliza tightened her hold on her glass and lowered it without taking a drink. She wet her lips and kept her stare at the table.
He grabbed a strawberry. Damn him.
Eliza squared her shoulders and looked at him.
Alexander set his own champagne flute down and held his hand up to his chin. He bit into the strawberry and caught the chocolate pieces that fell. He wore a simple black suit with a skinny black tie and white button-down. His facial hair was tidy, goatee neat. He must have shaved that morning. Annoyingly, all of that was fine.
He had cut his hair. The long locks that Eliza used to tangle her fingers in, to pull him in every which direction, were gone. She didn't know when he cut it, but there was still enough hair to push back, for an errant curl or two to fall on his forehead. But not enough to tie back or braid.
Eliza sipped at her drink. She shouldn't care about that.
Alexander finished the strawberry, tossing the end on a plate that seemed to be unofficially designated as the spot to do so, and glanced at her. He did a double take, widening his eyes. "Eliza, I didn't see you there."
She rolled her eyes, pressing her lips into a tight smile. "I'm sure."
"How are you?" he asked, picking up his glass with one hand and absently gesturing to her with the other.
It was amusing for Alexander to act casual, as if he hadn't been staring her down the entire ceremony. Eliza slightly raised her glass. "I've been great." The words tasted like ash on her tongue.
He smiled, and she hated how genuine he looked. "I'm glad!" Alexander raised his glass, too, and tipped it against hers. There was a chime, and Eliza grimaced as Alexander drank. Her expression held, even when he lowered his glass and stared at her. "Ah," he said.
Eliza breathed in and looked away. "Why are you here?" she asked.
"Peggy invited me," he said. The lilt in his voice was gone, replaced with a more deadpan tone that matched her own.
"So?"
"She's my friend, and she wanted me to come."
"I wouldn't have."
His eyes narrowed. "I'm not you, Eliza."
She hummed and turned around. Across the room, she watched Peggy and Stephen continue to dance, to go around the room and talk to their guests. Eliza saw Angelica and Church with their parents, discussing something, laughing. It was just a few years earlier that it was their wedding. They also celebrated in this parlor, with much of the same people.
Alexander turned, too, sticking a hand in his pocket. Eliza looked at him, at his furrowed brows and the dark circles under his eyes. Some things never changed, even if it had been nearly a year since they last saw each other.
She lingered for a moment too long, and Alexander looked at her. Eliza tipped her head to the side, focusing on a decoration on the opposite wall. She roughly swallowed, squashing down whatever had been bubbling up. "No date?"
"Nope." Alexander shifted his weight, leaning toward her. "You?"
"No," Eliza said, shaking her head. "Thomas wanted to dance."
Alexander huffed out a laugh. "Okay."
She glanced at him. The lighting in the parlor certainly wasn't the best, but that was definitely blush on his face. He concentrated on his drink, staring into the glass, lips a thin line. Giving a small shake of his head, he took a drink. Keeping her eyes on Alexander, Eliza said, "He's probably hoping we'll sleep together again."
Immediately, Alexander balked. He looked at Eliza, coughing and roughly swallowing. "What?" he spat out, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Tightening his grip on the glass, Alexander snapped his gaze ahead, searching the room. "What?"
Eliza drank the last of her champagne, hiding her smile. "He was available when I needed it."
"You're lying."
"Nope."
"You're trying to make me upset."
She quirked a brow. "Why would that make you upset?" she asked. Alexander looked at her, eyes still wide, trying to steady his breathing. Eliza watched the rise and fall of his shoulders. "We weren't together, Alexander. Nothing wrong on my end." She frowned and walked away.
Eyes burned into the back of her head. Good, she thought. Eliza made a beeline to Angelica, now away from their parents, but her arm was grabbed. Yanked away from her course, Eliza spun on her heel to meet Peggy.
Her younger sister stared at her, brows raised, eyes wide. Her fingers dug into Eliza's forearm. "Are you okay?"
Eliza blinked. "Huh? What? Yes, I'm fine." She set her hand on top of Peggy's and rubbed. Eliza frowned at her empty champagne flute and felt her heart pound against her chest. "I just told Alexander I fucked Thomas, but yes, I'm fine."
Peggy held her hand to her forehead. "Betsey," she breathed out.
"It came out. I couldn't help it. He was all…" Eliza waved her hand. "Blushy when I said Thomas wanted to dance with me."
"Blushy." Peggy wrapped her arm around Eliza's, patting her hand. She turned them and led her across the room. "You knew he was coming."
Eliza raised a finger. "I knew you invited him."
"I told you he RSVP'd."
"Fucker."
Angelica laughed. "You saw him, huh?"
Eliza looked between her sisters, narrowing her eyes. "Have you talked to him?" she asked.
"Briefly. He cut his hair," said Angelica.
Eliza wrinkled her nose.
"I saw! He's been telling me that he was gonna do that for months," Peggy said. "Finally done it."
"It's been like that for a few weeks. He looks nice."
"Mhm."
Eliza wiggled her arm from Peggy's hold. She sighed. "This is making me uncomfortable."
Angelica raised an eyebrow. "You know, he hasn't—"
"—I don't know and don't care," Eliza said. She frowned at Angelica. "You know what he did. I can't just have an idle conversation about him."
Peggy rubbed her back, resting her cheek against Eliza's shoulder. "Betsey…" she started, and Eliza knew where this was heading. They had this discussion nearly every month since their relationship ended.
He regretted it. He was a different man now. Give him another chance.
Give him another chance.
Give him—
Eliza shook her head. "I don't want to hear it."
Angelica had even begun to echo Peggy. Angelica, who had nearly castrated Alexander when she found out. But they worked together, saw each other every day. Completely cutting him off wasn't practical.
Eliza's friends were Alexander's friends. He embedded himself into her family with ease. It only took three months for her mother to call him "son". He came to every Easter and Christmas dinner for six years, in this very house.
"I need more champagne," Eliza said, looking over her shoulder. She squinted at the refreshment table just feet away.
Angelica squeezed her shoulder. "Get some food, too."
"Yeah, don't want you puking at my fucking wedding," Peggy said, grinning.
Eliza planted herself at a table in the corner of the room, plate stacked with bread and some kind of chicken-thing and her champagne glass refilled. For the next few hours, her family and friends cycled through her table.
"I think I've had too much to drink," Hercules said.
"I'm heading out," Aaron said.
"Oh, Elizabeth, I am more than a little tipsy currently," Lafayette said.
"I'll get Herc and Laf home safe," John said.
"You look lonely," Thomas said. "You sure you don't want a dance?"
Eliza watched Alexander flutter around the room, laughing with their friends, charming her family. Her father roughly smacked his shoulder and barked out a laugh. Eliza drank half of the champagne in her glass, nearly choking when her mother hugged him.
The music was slow. The crowd was thinning. The lights were dimmed. Her parents left the parlor for the night, giving Eliza tight hugs and loud kisses. They did the same for all their daughters.
Eliza cradled her head in her hand, elbow digging into the hard wood of the table. She frowned at the current song playing, a long, slow ballad that was perfect for swaying close together.
They had danced to this at Angelica's wedding. Alexander teased they would play it at their own nuptials, right before they would go upstairs to make their union official.
"No one would even notice us leaving," he had whispered in her ear.
"Why should we wait for the song to end?" Eliza had whispered back.
The chair next to her was dragged out, and Eliza thought Thomas had come back, believing that the third time was the charm. She dropped her hand and rolled her head on her shoulders, another rejection on the tip of her tongue. Quickly, Eliza pressed her lips together, roughly swallowing.
Alexander stared at her, leaning back in his chair. His arms were crossed over his chest, head tipped to the side. He gave a small smile, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes showing. "Hi."
Eliza looked away. "You're still here."
"Yeah."
"It's late. You should go home."
"Yeah. Maybe."
Eliza picked at her fingernails, chewing on her lip. She looked over at Alexander again, and he ran his fingers through his hair. There wasn't enough.
Alexander dropped his hand into his lap. "How's work?"
She blinked. And then again. "You're really asking about work at one in the morning on a Saturday?"
"Technically Sunday…"
"It's fine," Eliza said. She returned her attention to her nails. The yellow polish was chipping. "We have a charity event planned for the end of the month. That's been keeping me busy."
"Gonna get those big bucks."
Eliza smiled, despite herself, and looked at him. "We're sending an invitation to Mr. Washington."
"Oh, he always comes to those."
"Well, he has to."
Together, they said, "Can't say no to the children."
They laughed. The sound settled in her chest, making it harder to breathe. Alexander lifted his hands to rub his face. Eliza stared at the empty champagne glass. She felt as if she was wearing a different skin, that of the Old Eliza. She thought she had hung Old Eliza up, stashed away in the back of her closet. Curious how easy it was to slide her on again.
She breathed in. "What about you?"
"Angelica doesn't tell you? Or Aaron?"
Eliza stared. Alexander shook his head. "It's fine, too. I got an acquittal in that Weeks case."
She furrowed her brow. "That finally went to trial? You got that case—" she stopped, biting the inside of her cheek. Eliza pushed her hair behind her ear and looked back down.
"Yeah," Alexander said. "It finally went to trial."
Eliza began to nod, sucking in another breath, drawing out another loud exhale. "Good. Good job on the acquittal."
"Thank you. Aaron and I worked hard on that one."
She looked down at her hands, slotting her fingers together.
"I think in a couple years we'll try and start our own practice."
Eliza squeezed her fingers. "I remember," she said softly.
Alexander hummed and scratched his chin. "Yeah, I must have… babbled about that a little."
"More than a little." Her lips quirked into a smile. She raised a hand to wipe it away. "Just you and Aaron, because—"
"Angie's actually going places," they both finished. Next to her, Alexander laughed again. She couldn't look at him.
Eliza watched Angelica and Church say their good nights. Her older sister looked at her from across the room and gave a small wave. Eliza returned it, trying her best to match her smile. Angelica tipped her chin up, fingers tapping underneath, and then grabbed Church's hand to lead him out. Eliza sighed, the sound coming out shaky.
Alexander cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. He sat up straighter, arms folded across his chest again, and glanced at Eliza. "Hey," he started, voice soft, cautious. "Do you want to dance?"
She curled her fingers, nails digging into her palms. Eliza understood Alexander's question. What she didn't understand was why he was asking it. She looked at him, widening her eyes. Heart beating fast, Eliza thought she heard his pounding, too. "What?"
He opened his mouth, closed it, and shrugged, loosely gesturing with a hand. "I-well, I just thought, I mean, you haven't danced all night. You should dance at a wedding."
Alexander was nervous. So strange, to see him devolved into the man he was when they began dating. She would be lying if it didn't make her feel just a bit smug. Eliza slowly nodded. "You should dance at a wedding," she repeated.
"I know things are… anyway, I figured it would be okay now since there aren't a lot of people still up." Alexander looked out into the dying crowd, pressing his hand to his lips.
"It would be okay now," she repeated.
Alexander frowned. "Are you just going to parrot?"
Eliza grinned, batting her eyelashes. "I'm just surprised at your nerve."
"Yes, my nerve. And my attempt in preserving your integrity. I wouldn't want too many people to see you dancing with me."
She snorted. "Seriously? My integrity?" Eliza stood, keeping a hand on the table to steady herself. Perhaps she had one glass of champagne too many. "If you gave a damn about my integrity, then you wouldn't have cheated on me with my best friend."
Eliza stared down at Alexander in his seat, the frown still on his face. His brow was creased, eyes puppy-dog wide, and she hated him. She adjusted her hand on the table, knuckles pressing hard into the wood as she leaned. There was every reason to hate him. Eliza shrugged her shoulders, setting her other hand on her hip. He looked back at her, carefully breathing in, and for a moment, Eliza thought he might yell. Or snap at her. Instead, his expression dropped, now neutral, almost uncaring.
"Do you want to dance or not?"
A gasp left her lips before she could stop it. She stepped back, hand leaving the table to dangle at her side as she smiled in disbelief. The reasonable part of her wanted to say no, to tell him to fuck off, and then march upstairs to her bedroom. Alexander stood, straightening out his suit jacket and tie. Eliza glanced at his fingers, the way they smoothed and pulled, and narrowed her eyes. "I'll dance," she said.
Slowly walking backward, Eliza kept her attention on Alexander. He followed her, hands in his pockets. There was a smile on his face, amused, a sharp turn from the conversation they just had. "Not for very long," said Alexander. "It's late and I should be getting home."
Eliza scrunched her face and stopped in the middle of the parlor. "Oh, haha." Alexander stopped, too, looking down at her. Eliza held her breath and scanned the room. There were only a few couples still dancing, a scattered handful of people sitting at their tables. She saw Peggy and Stephen at their own table by the fireplace. They looked tired, as they leaned against each other. They would be heading upstairs soon.
Warm fingers wrapped around her wrists. Eliza looked down and then up at Alexander. Wordlessly, he lifted her arms and draped them over his shoulders. He stepped forward, seamlessly resting his hands on her waist and pulling Eliza in close. It felt natural, like he had done it a hundred times, because he had.
Throat dry, Eliza adjusted her arms into a more comfortable position. She concentrated on his neck, watching as he swallowed and breathed. Her fingers curling, she brushed them along the back of his neck. His cologne was still strong. He'd never changed it in all the years they were together. Briefly, Eliza wished to bury her face in the crook of his neck and smell the coastal air.
Eliza clenched her teeth and looked at the wall. Alexander gently swayed them to the music. He raised a hand and swept her braid off of her shoulder. Eliza met his eyes, and was greeted with a half-narrowed gaze, his features soft. He looked relaxed, comfortable. She resented him and couldn't look away.
As they slowly turned, Eliza tapped her fingertips along the collar of his shirt. "Why did you cut your hair?" she asked. Her voice sounded… weak. She grimaced.
Alexander smirked. "You really want to know?"
"Fuck you." Eliza shook her head. "Fuck you."
He cradled the small of her back. "I needed a change," he said, as if he wasn't just cursed. "There was… Ah." Alexander paused, tipping his head to the side. He gave a faint smile, his eyes darting across the empty air next to Eliza. "Too many memories," he settled on, looking back at her.
Eliza slowly nodded, studying his expression, the strands of hair that fell on his forehead.
"I couldn't stand seeing myself for much longer," he added. "I needed that to be gone."
She was pleased Alexander had felt guilt, discomfort. At the same time, it was reassuring to hear he was also plagued by memories. She wondered if they were only the bad ones.
Eliza stared at his shoulder, curling and uncurling her fingers. "For a while, a long while, I couldn't look at myself either," she said, lowering her voice. A chill ran down her spine, and she wrinkled her nose.
"Betsey," he started.
They had never talked about it, about Alexander's infidelity. It had happened, and Alexander, the honorable man that he was, told her right after. He raced to her apartment in the middle of the night and woke her up. It was a moment of weakness, he said. He immediately regretted it. He didn't know what he was thinking. Maria had said she needed help—
Eliza never knew the specifics of how it happened. Truth be told, she didn't need or want to know. In just a matter of hours, their relationship was shattered. She never could imagine a life without him, what it would be like to lose him.
They had been talking about getting married.
Eliza sucked in a breath and placed her hands on Alexander's shoulders. When was the last time he had called her Betsey?
"Don't call me that," she muttered.
When he was apologizing then.
"I don't want to hear that from you," she muttered.
Alexander frowned. "I'm sorry. Eliza. I am sorry."
"Bets?" A hand rested on her back, giving a comforting rub. Eliza pulled her arms away from Alexander and looked over, seeing Peggy's concerned face. Her brow furrowed, lips pursed, she looked between Eliza and Alexander. "Everything okay? Stephen and I were about to go upstairs."
Eliza nodded, facing her. "Yes," she said, clasping her hands in front. She gave Peggy a smile, looking up at Stephen behind her. Just like her, he also looked worried, hands on his waist as he ignored Alexander next to her. "I'm okay, Peggy. Alexander and I were just… talking."
Peggy glanced at Alexander again. "Hi, Alex."
"Hi, Peg."
"If you need anything," Peggy said, squeezing Eliza's arm, "come to my room."
Eliza shook her head, laughing. "I'm not going to barge into your room on your wedding night."
"Hush. It's fine." Peggy waved a hand at Stephen. "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Or just bother Ang. I'm sure you'd want to wake her up."
Eliza crossed her arms over her chest, biting her lip. "No. I don't."
Peggy grinned and tapped Eliza's nose. She turned away, then, grabbing Stephen's hand, and walked out of the parlor.
Eliza raised her hand and rubbed her nose.
For several moments, they remained quiet and stood there. More people left. Staff hired just for the party began to put food away.
"I'd like to keep talking," Alexander said.
Eliza knotted her fingers together and looked at him. He watched her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "You would?" she asked.
Alexander nodded. "Yeah. Can we?"
Eliza tucked her hair behind her ear and nodded, too.
Together, they left the parlor, and together, they walked upstairs. Quietly, side by side, Eliza and Alexander moved down the hallways. She tried not to pay any attention to the way her heart thumped against her chest, how her cheeks warmed, or how her mind raced. She glanced at Alexander, holding her breath. He stared at her, raising his brows. He was a few steps ahead of her now.
It must have been New Year's Eve, the last time they went into Eliza's childhood bedroom. Too long ago, not long enough. With the rest of the family, they had shared a chaste kiss at midnight. Retiring for the night, they shared more desperate exchanges underneath blankets.
The only light in the hallway came from the moonlight streaming through the windows. It bathed Alexander in a familiar glow, and her eyes traced down the curve of his nose. She was still enamored by that fucking nose.
"Eliza," he said.
She blinked. They were standing in front of her bedroom, the door not yet open. Alexander's hand rested on the doorknob. Eliza stared at his hand and again listened to her heartbeat. She should be the one to open the door. This was her home, her bedroom. Alexander had no business stepping into her life again like this, like he had never left.
"You're not allowed to open my door," said Eliza. "You're not allowed to lead me to my bedroom." She lifted a hand to rub at her cheek. "It's the other way around now."
Alexander straightened and slid his hand off the doorknob. His arm dangled. "Fair enough." Then, for the briefest of moments, Alexander looked at her mouth, her neck, her mouth. Eliza felt wobbly. She grabbed the doorknob. "What else am I not allowed to do?" he asked.
Eliza roughly swallowed and twisted her wrist. The door opened, and she walked inside. Alexander was close behind. She waited until he was in the center of the room before shutting the door. "You can't fucking look at me like that," she said, leaning against the door. Alexander raised his head and stared at her, furrowing his brow. Did he not know what he'd done? Could he have been oblivious? Did he have any idea how close she was to teetering?
The fucking cologne, his nose, his hands, the whispers he left on her skin. She remembered it all. It was right in front of her.
Alexander loosened his tie, fingers clumsily digging into the fabric as he kept his eyes on Eliza. He hadn't looked away. With a jerk, a flourish, the tie was undone, and Alexander tossed it to the floor. Eliza glanced as it fell, and when she looked back at Alexander, his stare, again, drifted lower.
"Like that," Eliza said. "Don't look at me like that. Like you… like you—"
"Like I what?" He set his hands on his waist.
Eliza pressed her palms against the door, something firm to ground her. Like you want me. "Like nothing's different," she said. "Like we haven't been apart for months, and we're just staying the night at my parents'." Like you love me.
Alexander shook his head and turned away from her. He ran his fingers through his hair, noisily breathing in. "Why can't we be?" he asked. He faced her bed, and Eliza took in the tension in his shoulders.
She huffed out a breath. "Alexander, you know why."
"I know," he said. "Stupid question."
Eliza pushed off from the door and went to stand next to him. His eyes were fixed on the bed, carefully scanning it. She wet her lips and looked at her pillows, perfectly arranged. She breathed in. It hurt.
Eliza opened her mouth to speak, but no words could come out. Instead, she only managed a strained "I—" before snapping her mouth shut. Alexander immediately stared at her, widening his eyes and looking like the most broken man in the world. Eliza folded her arms over her chest and tried again, bowing her head and taking a few deep breaths. "We never… said goodbye. Officially." She frowned. "That's bothered me a lot."
"No closure," Alexander agreed. "I mean, I certainly don't blame you for immediately kicking me out."
She smiled half-heartedly. Adjusting her weight, she leaned toward Alexander. Their arms brushed together. "It was… so… fucking abrupt," she said, sighing. Eliza rubbed her forehead, staring at her rug. "You were there and telling me all this shit. I didn't know what the fuck you were talking about." She waved her hand and let out a short laugh. "We were just looking at wedding rings," she added, voice shaking. Eliza pressed her fingers to her lips and squeezed her eyes closed.
The floor creaked. Alexander rested a hand on her shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting. She resisted the urge to shrug him away. "Eliza, I know. I fucking know. I can't say anything else except I'm sorry." He tightened his grip, his thumb digging into her bone. "I have no excuse."
Slowly, Eliza lowered her hand and raised her head. She looked at Alexander, furrowing her brow. Waving her hand again, Eliza frowned. "Why did you come here?" she asked.
"I already told—"
"No. Why did you come here?"
Alexander slid his hand down Eliza's arm. She shivered and turned slightly toward him. "I knew you'd be here," he whispered. "I hadn't seen you since—I mean, Peggy wanted me to come and." He sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know. I guess I wanted to apologize again."
"And you have."
He dropped his hand. "Yeah, I have." Alexander turned, too, properly facing her. "Eliza, I haven't been with anyone else. All I think about is you and how I fucked up. I only wanted to be with you. I still want that."
Eliza couldn't look away. She held her hands behind her back to hide their trembling. Her ears rang, and her heart felt as if it was kickstarted. Eliza knew Alexander came to Peggy's wedding to see her. If she had voiced that to either of her sisters, they might have called her a narcissist, but no. She knew Alexander. He stared at her during that entire fucking ceremony.
And he wanted her back.
"You," she started, her voice sounding far away. "You, you, you." Eliza shook her head, eyes beginning to prickle from the threat of tears. "How do you know if I still want that?"
Alexander's breath hitched in his throat, and he reached out, carefully touching Eliza's arms, her wrists. He pulled her arms back around and held her hands. "I don't, Eliza," he said. "I don't know that." He blinked several times and glanced down. He huffed and smiled, self-deprecating, and when he tipped his head to the side, Eliza saw his eyelashes were wet.
Biting the inside of her cheek, Eliza pulled her hands out of Alexander's hold. His hands remained where they were, hovering with open, curled fingers. She gently glided her thumbs underneath Alexander's eyes, wiping away tears. "You don't have to cry," Eliza murmured.
"You are."
"I'm not." Eliza dragged her fingers down his cheeks. Alexander closed his eyes, lips parting. She held her breath as she stared at his mouth. Her fingertips traced along his jaw before trailing off down his neck. Eliza held her hands behind her back again and straightened her spine. Alexander looked at her, and she did not think about her heart aching, about how much she wished to kiss him. If she allowed that, she wasn't sure what would follow.
It wasn't necessarily a bad thought.
Eliza closed her eyes and turned away. She pressed her lips together and roughly swallowed. Then, she took a step forward and sat on the edge of her bed. Crossing her legs, she lowered her hands to undo the strap on her heels. Alexander slowly rotated, facing her. She glanced at him, and he looked right back, his hands in his pockets again.
Eliza kicked one of her shoes aside and switched her legs, fiddling with her other heel. "Were you done?" she asked. "Talking?"
Alexander frowned. "Do you want me to leave?"
No. The word clawed at her throat. She wanted to scream it, both at Alexander and herself. Eliza slid off her heel and tossed it to the floor. Talking to Alexander more would hurt. She might actually tell him that she also wanted him back (didn't she? No no no), and voicing that may break her. It would be an acknowledgment that Alexander still had his hooks in her. But it seemed she left an equally permanent mark on him.
Eliza brushed loose strands of hair behind her ear. She set her hands on her knees and looked up at him. He was waiting, patient, brow furrowed. He removed a hand from his pocket to rub his face. Eliza carefully wet her lips. "How did you imagine this night ending?"
Alexander dropped his hand, and, for a moment, a glimmer of hope danced across his face. His eyes widened, brows briefly raised, and he chewed on his lip. "I… only wanted to apologize, Eliza. See you, talk to you." He smiled, shaking his head. "That's all."
At the beginning of the evening, Eliza might have preferred Alexander solely arriving with an attitude, intent on being just as catty as she had planned to be. That would have made it easier to ignore him, to not hear him out, to not think about kissing and fucking him again. Alexander only pulled an attitude, though, when she dished it out first.
Eliza stretched out an arm and touched Alexander's waist. She pulled him closer, and he walked to her. "I didn't know what I imagined," she said. Breathing in, Eliza lowered her eyes, skimming along Alexander's torso, his soft belly, and settled on his belt buckle. "Might have brought someone else to my room." She glanced at him.
Alexander's eyes were dark. He shifted in his spot, absently clenching and unclenching his fists. "Who?"
"Thomas. Maybe." Eliza set a hand on Alexander's thigh. "We only fucked once, like, a week after we broke up, but he still thinks it might happen again."
Alexander sighed. "Was he good?"
How could she tell Alexander that no one could compare to him? He was her first, the only man she had ever even thought about sleeping with. Thomas was different. He was convenient. He was rougher, straightforward. They didn't even laugh together. Eliza dragged her thumb along the inseam of Alexander's pants. He adjusted his position again, trying to hide his squirming. "He was okay," Eliza said.
Alexander nodded. He glanced away, rubbing his face again, hiding a smile. Of course, Alexander would be smug about this. "John's tried to..." Alexander started.
"Why didn't you?" she asked softly. "You were together before—"
"—Eliza." Alexander stared at her, firmly shaking his head. "No, it's you. You, you, you—"
She couldn't listen to this. Eliza tore her gaze away from his face and began to undo his belt. Heart racing, she listened to Alexander gasp as she yanked the belt through its loops. It fell to the floor, and she immediately began to unbutton, unzip. Her cheeks were warm. Eliza dipped her hand into his pants and cupped his front. He was already hard and whining above her.
"Please. Eliza, please. Can you, will you—"
Her head was swimming. She didn't know if it was the champagne or, or, or.
Eliza held Alexander's cock in her hand, leaving sloppy, lazy kisses along the length. She didn't tease him for long, the rough whispers coming from Alexander nearly driving her mad. Taking him into her mouth earned more whines, groans. He gently touched the back of her head, and she didn't look at him. Eliza only slowly bobbed her head, hollowing her cheeks as she carefully sucked at the head of his cock.
His fingers pushed her hair behind her ears, and he cradled her cheek. Eliza hummed and rested her free hand on his back. She pressed him closer and opened her mouth just a bit wider. Alexander cursed, his thumb tracing her lower lip.
Eliza pulled back and dragged her hand down him. Slick with spit, it was a messy jerk, and Alexander sharply breathed out. "Eliza," he said, touching her hair, her face. "I want to—"
She squeezed his cock, shaking her head. "Don't talk."
Alexander groaned and pried Eliza's hand away. He crouched in front of her, and Eliza grabbed her dress. She pulled it up, as Alexander ducked his hands underneath. He removed her underwear and dropped the garment on the floor. Eliza moved to the edge of the bed and spread her legs, keeping her dress around her waist. Alexander pressed his palms to her thighs, fingers similarly digging into her skin. He leaned in with no hesitation and licked her, from her opening to her clit. Eliza bit her lip and held in a breath.
Alexander always knew what he was doing. Eliza had to commend him for that. He was a quick study.
He lapped at her clit, sucking softly, and rubbed the pad of his thumb along her labia. He spread her open, dipping the tip of his finger into the wetness. Eliza arched her back and ran her fingers through his hair. Her stomach flipped at Alexander sliding in his middle finger, at the lack of hair to grab.
How dare he cut his hair. The hair she loved. The fucking hair she had washed and braided so carefully countless times. He couldn't look at himself anymore. Too many memories.
Eliza grabbed a handful. Alexander groaned against her, and she shivered. He removed his finger and gripped her thighs. Eliza held him closer and rotated her hips. Alexander hummed, then, and stretched out his tongue. He stayed put, allowing Eliza to grind down on his face and to yank his hair that was too short.
Head again swirling, Eliza curled her toes against the air. She gasped and pulled her hand away from Alexander's hair. She set her foot on his shoulder and pushed him. Alexander stumbled back, grabbing the bed to steady himself. Eliza swallowed, holding her hands to her chest. She felt the flutter of her heart underneath her fingers.
Too close, almost there.
Alexander rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, half-shoving his cock into his pants. He watched Eliza, sighing. He opened his mouth to talk and then closed it. Shaking his head, Alexander ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down.
Eliza sat up, biting the inside of her cheek. She breathed in, out, opened her mouth, closed it. God, what did she want?
Eliza stood, her dress falling into place, and turned her back to Alexander. She pulled her braid onto her shoulder, dragging out the hair tie and slipping it on her wrist. "Unzip my dress," she said. She expected her voice to come out shaky. It was strong, sure.
Alexander didn't touch her. "Eliza, I need to know what this is."
She closed her eyes and combed her hair with her fingers. "Don't talk. Unzip my dress."
"Please, talk to me."
"Unzip my dress."
"Betsey, please."
Eliza turned and stared at him, narrowing her eyes, heart pounding. "I told you not to call me that."
Alexander pressed his palms to his eyes. He shook his head, noisily exhaled, and dropped his hands. "Fuck." Alexander watched her, setting his hands on his hips, and wet his lips. "Eliza," he started, whispering. "I need—" he stopped and lifted a hand, holding her chin. He leaned in, their noses touched, and he was going to kiss her.
She couldn't have that. She couldn't take it. Eliza tipped her head away, and Alexander froze. She felt him stare at her lips, nearly going cross-eyed as he tried to look at her.
Eliza focused on the floor, at the dark hardwood. His fingers were still on her chin. He was warm. Eliza closed her eyes against the prickling. If they kissed, this would become something different. She didn't know if she could handle that yet.
"Unzip my dress, Alexander," she said quietly.
Alexander didn't move for several seconds. Eliza listened to their breaths, nearly matching, in-tune. She hated it. Slowly, Alexander let go of her chin and turned her around. He unzipped her dress, and Eliza stared at the wall, sighing. Alexander hooked his fingers underneath the straps of her dress and pulled them down her arms. He carefully dragged the dress off Eliza, and she stepped out. With a small kick to the garment, she was naked, and she faced Alexander again.
Alexander studied every inch of her, like a man dying of thirst, and the furrow in his brow deepened. He glanced at her and shrugged out of his suit jacket. As it fell to the floor, Eliza sat down on the bed, and Alexander continued to undress.
Wordlessly, they both crawled further onto the bed. Eliza tried not to listen to the way it creaked, how it reminded her of the countless times they had to hide from her sisters what they were doing in the dead of the night. Alexander held her waist, bringing her back to the present.
Eliza rolled over in bed, her back to Alexander, and he scooted closer to her. He ducked his hand in between her legs and rubbed her clit, sliding down to carefully work his fingers back in her. Eliza bowed her head into the crook of her arm and brought her hips down to meet his touch.
It was only a few minutes before Alexander retreated to his discarded clothes, searching for his wallet, and returned with a condom. Eliza squeezed her eyes shut and listened to the package rip open, as he grunted and pulled it on.
For a moment, Eliza considered turning around and climbing on his hips. She even sat up—it would only take two seconds—but she froze, meeting Alexander's eyes. His head settled against the pillow, cock in his hand, he carefully watched Eliza. His eyebrows were so expressive, tears easily able to appear in those brown eyes. Eliza could feel what this meant to Alexander, what all those months without her were like.
She heard her sisters' voices in her head, telling her to give him another chance.
Eliza breathed in. She moved, getting on her hands and knees. "Don't look at me like that."
Alexander narrowed his eyes and pushed himself up. He didn't look at her. He didn't even talk.
Carefully, gently, Alexander pressed into her. Eliza's breath hitched in her throat, and she leaned forward, forehead to a pillow. It was nearly a year since they had last fucked, nearly a year since Eliza had been fucked period. She clutched the edge of the pillow, and Alexander smoothed a hand along her back. It was reassuring, warm, overly familiar.
Eliza roughly swallowed. She spread her legs a bit more, arched her back a bit more, and Alexander thrust into her again and again and again. She was used to the rhythm, the way Alexander's hips rocked against her when he'd bottom out. Eliza moved back against him, just like she used to, rolling her hips and making Alexander groan into her hair.
He was more restrained now, as if he didn't want her to hear. Eliza didn't know if she wanted that. Well, why would she? She didn't want Alexander to look at her, to talk, to kiss her. It would remind—would make her—would make this—
Eliza reached behind her and grabbed Alexander's hand. Her throat was dry. Her eyelashes were wet. She dragged his arm around her waist and slipped her fingers between his. For a moment, Alexander stopped moving, and Eliza felt his eyes on her. Eliza breathed in and guided his hand down between her legs. She rubbed at her clit, and Alexander joined her. Eliza leaned into him.
Alexander buried his face in the crook of her neck and started to fuck her again, drawing circles and moans from Eliza. He was louder then, too, holding her waist with his other hand.
Eliza tightly closed her eyes. She wrapped her fingers around Alexander's wrist, thumb pressed to the curve, to his pulse. "Alexander," she breathed. At his name, he dragged his face across her shoulder, his facial hair scraping against her skin. Eliza shivered. "Alexander, please, can you—"
"—anything, anything, I'll do—"
"—call me—"
"—Betsey, my beautiful, kind Betsey. Goddamn it."
Eliza hid her face into the pillow, cheeks no doubt an embarrassing shade of red. She nodded and rocked against him faster, grinding as much on his cock as she was on his hand. Her silly childhood nickname sounded otherworldly on his tongue. She hated how she loved it, even after all these months.
"Make me come," Eliza gasped. "Alexander."
He continued his pace, never wavering, and leaned his head against hers. "Anything, Betsey."
Eliza came with a jerk, the rush surprising her. She moaned and writhed, clutching the bed covers and Alexander's hand. As she squirmed, Alexander moaned, too, breathy and loud, into her hair, a singular fuck telling her what she already knew.
She slowly gathered herself. She felt as if on a ship, swaying back and forth as she came down. Eliza wet her lips, raising a hand to rub her face. Alexander was still in her, his fingers absently stroking her clit. She rotated her hips, humming softly. He took a second longer to rouse, and he carefully pulled out of her, removing his hand from her legs. He left her. Eliza inhaled and bowed her head against the pillow. She wanted him back. Back on top of her. Back inside her.
When Eliza pushed herself into a sitting position, Alexander was walking back to bed, the condom tossed into the bin in the corner. He crawled onto the bed and sat next to Eliza. He looked ahead, eyes darting, and chewed on his lip.
Eliza wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at Alexander's knee. Her hair was messy, only remnants of a braid hung over her shoulder. Her skin prickled with sweat. Any residual effects from the champagne were long gone. She could still taste Alexander's cock, his pre-come. Blinking, Eliza studied the dark hair on his thighs.
She would need to talk first. Alexander could sit in silence for hours, mind a thousand miles away. But what could she say? Thanks for fucking her? It was fantastic? Just like old times but with a little more crying?
"Was this just closure for you?" Alexander asked.
Eliza raised her head, widening her eyes. "What?"
Alexander was doing cartwheels in his head. "You said it's bothered you that we never officially said goodbye. That things ended abruptly." He looked at her, eyes similarly wide. "Was this your way of getting that? Fucking me one last time and then telling me goodbye?"
Her stomach sank, a cold chill running down her spine. She might have imagined a hundred different ways of hurting Alexander, but she could never go through with it. Not really. What Alexander was suggesting was cruel. It wasn't in Eliza to be cruel. The only thing she'd done that would come close to that was sleeping with Alexander's annoying friend, and she didn't even tell him about it until practically a year later.
Eliza frowned. "Is that what you think of me?"
Alexander held her gaze, expression stern, and then sighed. He dropped his head in his hands. "No. Of course not. I just… I know this wasn't closure for me."
"I know," she whispered.
"And you never said what this was. What we just did. God, fuck."
She studied Alexander, taking in his hunched shoulders, his fingers furiously combing through his hair. Eliza lifted her hand, lingering for several seconds, and reached out. She took Alexander's hand, sliding her fingers in between the spaces. Alexander looked at her, eyes still wide, and glanced at their hands.
Eliza tried to hold his gaze, but it made her chest hurt. She took a steadying breath and lightly touched the back of his hand, tracing along his knuckles. "I don't know either, Alexander," she said.
His grip tightened on her hand. He swallowed, absently nodding. "You don't know," he muttered. "You don't know what this was."
She frowned again. "Yeah," she whispered. "I don't." Eliza bit the inside of her cheek, hard. "I'm sorry."
Alexander closed his eyes, shoulders dropping, shivering. Eliza held her breath as she watched him, now unable to look away. Her throat, her eyes, burned. She was hurting Alexander with her ambivalence, but she wished she knew what she wanted.
Except no. She had known what she wanted. She wanted to get him off, for him to get her off. She wanted him back in every sense of the word. Foolishly, Eliza wanted him back days after she forced him out. She couldn't have remained with him. He had ruined her heart, the stability they had. Though she now had a routine that didn't have Alexander in it, she would have been deluding herself if she hadn't considered how he could fit back in. Would it be as if he never left? Would there be a crevice between them, threatening to widen in the event Alexander strayed again?
That would be devastating. And embarrassing.
But she had heard her sisters blabber about giving Alexander a second chance for nearly a year, providing unsolicited testimonials. And Eliza had stubbornly refused to hear them out. How would they react now, learning what she and Alexander had done tonight? Or what was currently running through Eliza's head, what she was considering?
They might be pleased. And smug. Most definitely smug. Damn them.
Eliza stared at Alexander's mouth, his frown, the few tears decorating his cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said again, words leaving her before she knew it. Eliza raised a hand to touch his chin and leaned in, tipping her head to gently kiss him.
The angle was awkward, their noses pressed together. Eliza lingered, listening to Alexander's breath hitch in his throat, that inhale he did when he had been crying. Slowly, he moved. He cupped the nape of her neck, tilting his head to kiss her back. And just as slowly, a flame flickered in the pit of Eliza's stomach. Their lips parted, and her eager tongue met Alexander's cautious one. He held her close, fingers tangling in her hair.
As arbitrary of a boundary as she made, they had now crossed it.
Eliza pulled back, resting their foreheads together. She kept her eyes closed for a few seconds, feeling the tingling on her lips, the skin surrounding them. She almost forgot what the scrape of Alexander's facial hair was like. Eliza lifted a hand to touch her mouth.
"Don't apologize," Alexander said. "I put you in this position."
Eliza opened her eyes and shook her head. "No."
"I che—"
"I know what you did," she said. Eliza dropped her hand and straightened up. Alexander tipped his head back to watch her. "I'm sorry for not having a good answer. A clear answer." She brushed her fingertips along his collarbones. "I'm sorry for having an answer and being too stubborn and proud to give it to you." Eliza glanced at him, cheeks warming, and Alexander blinked and then laughed.
"That sounds like my Betsey." He smoothed her hair behind her ears.
His laughter was a melody. It became trapped behind her ribs and beat along with her heart. Eliza sighed and felt fire on her lips. "I've missed you," she said. "So much. More than I care to admit."
"I've missed you, too," said Alexander. "And I'm a sad, pathetic man, and I'm not afraid to admit I've missed you every day since things ended."
Eliza smiled. She ran her fingers through his hair, watching it stick up in short tufts. "You are pretty pathetic."
Alexander wet his lips, looking down, away, back to her. "Eliza, I—"
She looped an arm around his neck and pulled him in, kissing him sweetly. He placed his hands on her sides, thumbs hesitantly kneading into her skin. Eliza laid back and dragged Alexander close, sweet kisses turning into hunger, need.
Eliza knew what Alexander was going to say. She didn't have to hear it. Truth be told, Alexander didn't even have to say it. She knew it by the way he kissed her, how he touched her, and in the practiced ease in which he brought her to orgasm again and again.
It was only when they finally settled, side by side, steadying their breaths and listening to the birds chirping outside the window, that Eliza willed herself to properly speak. Eyes heavy, she rolled her head to stare at Alexander. "I love you, too," she said, voice low, rough.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach. If it was earlier that night, she might have tried to capture them, bottle them inside and never let them see the light of day. That would have been safer, instead of allowing them to fly free and get tangled in Alexander's net again. But it hurt to be kept inside, to deny the feelings she still held. Squashing them down in anger had been satisfying in the beginning. Not now.
Alexander watched her, lazily smiling. His eyes were bright, tired, ecstatic. He held her hand and kissed her knuckles. "I love you, too," he repeated against her skin.
Eliza wiggled her fingers.
She carefully slid her hand from his hold and turned her back to Alexander. Staring at the window, Eliza felt Alexander move closer. His arms found her, tight around her waist. He stretched enough to rest his chin atop her head.
There must have been a bird in the tree nearby. It chirped a consistent sweet tune. Eliza closed her eyes, and Alexander briefly pulled back to yank the bed covers around them. Returning to her, Eliza leaned into his arms. "It's peaceful," she whispered.
Alexander left a kiss on her shoulder. "I haven't felt that in a while."
It was a year ago, when they had debated between diamonds and peridots.
Eliza tucked the blanket under her chin. "Me neither."
They managed to sleep for a couple hours before her family began to rouse. The downstairs were noisy, and Eliza could only guess her father must have been making breakfast for everyone.
Everyone. The word stole the breath from her.
They would need to go downstairs soon. The last thing she wanted was to worry anyone if she stayed in her room well into the afternoon. Then again, they might just think she was sleeping off a hangover. She had no headache to speak of.
Eliza wet her lips and sat up. Alexander's arm fell off her, and he roused, too. She looked over at him, and he rubbed his eyes. Blinking, Alexander pushed himself up. "How are we going to play this?" he asked, the question tumbling out.
"I'd rather not lie," she said.
"Might be easier," Alexander sighed. "I wasn't just being an asshole last night when I talked about your integrity. I'm still friends with Peggy and Angelica. Good friends. But I'm not sure how they would feel if we… rekindle our relationship." A smile flickered across his face. "Your mom might be pleased."
Eliza rolled her eyes and pushed her hair back. "She would." Tossing the blankets aside, Eliza dragged herself out of bed. "And my sisters, too, actually."
"Really?"
Eliza picked up her underwear, stepping into them. She stood there for a moment, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "He hasn't been with anyone else. He regrets it. He's a different man now. Give him another chance." Her sisters' statements were ingrained in her memory by now. Eliza glanced at Alexander. "Please, give him another chance."
Under her stare and words, Alexander blushed. He bowed his head and scratched his neck. "Ah."
Eliza looked away, too. She picked up her dress and carefully folded it to drape over her bed frame. She went to her bag in the corner of her room and dug through it.
"I'm not sure how much this means now, after last night and everything we talked about, but they're right."
Eliza stood, clothes to her chest. She stared at Alexander, who had shoved the bed covers aside to also crawl out. "Every word," he added.
She pinched the fabric of her t-shirt. "I know."
A smile broke across Alexander's face. She smiled, too.
They left the bedroom several minutes later, Eliza dressed in a t-shirt and jeans and Alexander in yesterday's clothes. He held his suit jacket over his arm, the sleeves of his shirt carefully rolled to his elbows. The tie was also discarded, stashed in a pocket of the suit jacket. The clothes were only mildly wrinkled.
Her parents were in the kitchen. Philip Schuyler expertly navigated the room, cooking his signature pancakes. Catherine stood by his side, helping, ever alert. Angelica and Church were seated at the table, chatting as they each nursed a cup of coffee. Peggy and Stephen were nowhere to be found, though their absence was hardly unusual.
As Eliza walked into the room, Alexander trailing behind her, four pairs of eyes fell on them. She ignored the growing blush across her cheeks and went over to her parents. "That smells delicious. Is there any way I can help?"
Alexander sat next to Angelica, tossing his suit jacket over the back of his chair. "Morning."
Angelica smiled, brows raised. "Morning."
Her mother reached over and squeezed Eliza's arm. "Betsey."
Eliza looked at her father, his stare intense. "Can I help?"
Slowly, he smiled, too. It was restrained, easily hidden. He nodded and wiped his nose with the heel of his palm. "Go ahead and flip those over," he said, handing her the spatula.
Eliza expected it to be awkward, moving amongst her family with an Alexander-sized elephant in the room. It felt like they had never parted, like Alexander hadn't missed Christmas and Easter dinners.
The flow was jilted when Peggy and Stephen joined them, but only momentarily. Her younger sister stumbled by the table, doing a triple take at Alexander's presence. She said nothing, though, and breakfast continued like normal.
Normal.
Quietly, Angelica and Peggy each reached for Eliza's hand at two different times that morning. They shared a look, and Eliza shook her head. "I don't want to hear it," she whispered, almost a hiss, at the smug smiles on their faces.
"I'm happy," Angelica said. "But be careful."
"It was only a matter of time," Peggy teased.
"What did I say?" Eliza sighed.
Eliza sat on the front porch steps, holding a leg to her chest. The afternoon sun was warm. There was a slight breeze, and Eliza pulled her hair onto her shoulder and began to lazily braid it.
Behind her, the door opened. The way the wood creaked, shifted under the new weight, Eliza didn't have to turn her head.
With a huff, Alexander sat next to her. His suit jacket now on, he rubbed his palms into his legs. Eyes darting, he scanned the front yard. "It's late and I should be getting home."
Eliza laughed. "Okay."
Alexander smiled. "I already told your family goodbye." He looked at Eliza, glancing at her fingers as they braided. "Everything feels… fine."
The butterflies were there again. Eliza brushed her braid over her shoulder. "It does."
Alexander nodded and tapped his thumbs against his knees, a faint rhythm surfacing. Eliza breathed in and looked out into the yard, too. She stared at the rose bushes along the fence, vibrant red, and at the leftover wedding fixtures and decorations.
"If you're comfortable," Eliza said, "grow out your hair."
"Betsey."
Eliza took Alexander's hand, quieting the now haphazard tapping. "I like it when your hair's long."
"I don't want things to be like they were," Alexander said. "I want it to be right this time."
She looked at Alexander, his creased brow and nervous smile. He wanted things to be right. The strength of his statement was palpable. His hands were sweaty. Eliza lightly squeezed his fingers. "Keep your hair short, then."
Alexander swallowed, nodding. "Thank you. Just for now, though."
"Just for now," Eliza agreed.
He wet his lips and turned toward her. He lifted his free hand and touched her chin. "I need," he started, and when he leaned in this time, Eliza didn't pull away. She met him halfway.
Eliza's heart fluttered, and she could feel Alexander's do the same. His kiss was sweet, gentle, promising.
Alexander pressed his forehead to hers. Eliza watched him, nearly cross-eyed. He gave her the same goofy stare.
"The end of the month," she said. "Our charity event."
Alexander nodded, pulling back to properly look at her. "Yeah?"
"Come with me."
For a moment, Alexander seemed ready to protest, perhaps ask if Eliza was sure. She had an answer ready. Instead, Alexander cupped her face, smoothing his thumb across her cheek. "I'd love to."
Eliza again looked at the yard, the scattered chairs, the crooked, flowered arch. Alexander set his hands in his lap, absently rubbing his fingers. Glancing at him, Eliza studied the relaxed lines of his shoulders, the contented look on his face. She stretched out her legs and wanted to bask in the sight.
Alexander smiled, a small huff escaping. He stared at the archway, too. "I never told you how beautiful you looked yesterday." He looked at Eliza. "I couldn't take my eyes off you."
Laughter bubbled on her tongue like champagne. Eliza pursed her lips to suppress a grin. "I know. I felt you watch me all fucking night."
He reddened, and Eliza laughed again. Alexander shook his head and stretched out his legs, too. He looped his arm through Eliza's and scooted close. "Shut up," he mumbled.
Despite Alexander telling Eliza he should leave, they remained sitting on the porch steps. Eliza lost track of time, but they had sat there long enough for Alexander to pick off the remaining nail polish on her left hand. A small pile of yellow specks rested on his thigh, stark against the black fabric of his pants.
Eliza stared at the fragments and ran her thumb along Alexander's. "I want it to be right this time, too," she whispered.
Alexander brushed away the chipped polish. Eliza blinked. She met his eyes, and Alexander nodded. He bowed his head, pressing a firm kiss to the back of Eliza's hand.
When he raised his head, Eliza lightly tapped the backs of her fingers against his chin. She tipped her head toward the breeze and closed her eyes. Alexander watched her, like a moth to a flame, and Eliza smiled.
