Page 56 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

I did not feel superior to Alex. But I was comfortable.

“No.” He waved me off as he grabbed his beer and leaned against the island. “We both ordered the same beer and got to talking. The bar was empty so we didn’t have a lot of options for conversation. He saw how charming I was and realized that I needed to be a close friend. I realized he could be interesting when he wasn’t trying to impress people. Nothing more.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said. “When he broke up with Michael I came and stayed with him for a bit while he worked himself out. We’re just friends.”

“Michael?”

“His ex?” Alex asked. “Oh. Maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” I said, stopping him. “I just…we haven’t…”

“Gotcha. Well, anyway, that’s basically it. I live in Texas. He’s here. We don’t get to see each other often, but I guess we’re those friends that are there when they’re needed.”

“It’s nice that you were in town for the party,” I said, unsure of what else I could say.

“I’m up visiting family again,” he said.

“Oh.”

“So,” Alex began, “how did that ginger fuck manage to convince you to marry him?”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed uproariously.

“What?”

“He’s elderly,” Alex said. “Not that you didn’t know that. He’s not much to look at. You’re young. Handsome. French. The people who essentially invented romance. How’d he sweep you off your feet?”

“How old are you?” I asked mischievously.

“That’s beside the point.”

We both laughed.

“Maybe I swept him off of his feet?” I found myself teasing back, suddenly comfortable as I plucked another potsticker from the pan. “And he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”

A soft smile slowly bloomed on Alex’s face.

“He’s the kindest, smartest…I love Peter. That’s how he swept me off of my feet, I suppose.”

Alex smiled at me a moment longer, then his mouth fell open to utter one word blandly. “Barf.”

I found myself laughing again.

“It’s true.”

“I believe you,” he said. “It’s just gross. You’re a gross person, Frenchie.”

I shrugged. “It’s still true.”

“So,” Alex fluttered his hand in the air, “how’s the U.S. for you?”

“I don’t know,” I said, averting my eyes. “It’s nice.”

“Yikes,” Alex winced. “Nice. Usually, it takes people a bit longer to realize what a shithole they’ve stumbled into here. I knew you were smart.”

“No,” I said, shaking my head, hoping I hadn’t offended the first friendly person I’d met at the party, “it’s just that—”