Cardinal (Love in Los Angeles, #4)

3-2

THE NEXT DAY HE TAKES Ali to set with him, to her delight and the amusement of his colleagues. To his relief, the drive to work does not net him another new phone app. Alex feels immensely proud and fond of how much everyone dotes on her. She’s thrilled at the entire experience, but sulks to Alex during lunch in the big heated catering tent about how Liam won’t let her be in movies and could he do something about that.

“Sure, they need baby Vikings here all the time,” Alex tells her. “Want to come in with me at four in the morning every day?”

Ali narrows her eyes suspiciously at him, then shakes her head. “No. And I’m not a baby.”

Alex is relieved to dodge the need to explain, yet again, the family policy of no child stars, current or former, other than Liam. The topic will surely come to a far less agreeable head at some point.

Another night Carly and Liam go into town for a date, which means Alex and Paul get to be totally on deck for the kids.

“I can’t believe I missed seeing Vic take her first steps,” Alex opines. He’s glad walking isn’t an issue with Claudia yet, but still, watching Vic toddle around the living room and get into everything is unexpectedly melancholy.

Paul hums from where he’s sitting on the floor building block towers that Claudia is delightedly knocking over. “If it helps, I wasn’t in the room for that either. There’s lots of ways to miss things. Unfortunately.”

Alex knows he should find that reassuring. Instead, as he and Paul put the kids to bed, he keeps thinking about all the things he’s going to keep missing once everyone goes back to L.A.

Once the kids are asleep, Paul grabs Alex’s hand and pulls him into their bedroom.

Getting some time to finally be alone and not be aware of Carly and Liam somewhere else in the house is a relief. They f**k for a long time. It’s intense, Paul’s gray eyes focused on Alex’s face and his hands tight in his hair. The wind moans around the corners of the house while the lamplight spills warm and golden across their skin.

After, curled around each other in bed — Paul seems to be as unwilling as Alex is to stop touching — they talk softly with their foreheads pressed together. It’s the first time on this trip Alex has felt completely connected with Paul, and it’s bliss. They may call and video chat often when Alex is gone, but that only accentuates the space between them. It’s so good to be in the same room and not have to worry about Paul’s next meeting or Alex’s next call or emotions lost in the translation of technology, and just talk. About the kids, their work, the books Alex is reading, and the vast Icelandic landscape that makes it feel like they’re the only two people in the world.

Which, tragically, they are not. Alex wakes up when the front door slams. He hears laughter and shushing, and the sound of shoes dropping off in the hall. He’s tempted to holler about how Carly and Liam are being shitty roommates, but he’d be at least partially joking and Liam wouldn’t get it. Then he’d have to get up and talk about it, and all of it might wake the kids. He whines and snuggles close to Paul who is too dead to the world to even realize anything is going on.

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