Cupid: Five reasons why Alex finally moved back to Chicago and married Claire
For emrinalexander.
1. Spring arrived and Alex saw Claire's smile in the curve of every tulip. What was a career judged against constant reminders that he was away from her?
2. They go on vacation together that summer. Alex can't believe he's only known Claire for nine months, and been in geographic proximity for two. He takes her sailing, off the Carolinas, and she's completely inept, and makes him completely happy.
She never mentions Trevor Hale once. Alex calls her Sparky as he barks out orders she can't follow.
Wind rushes through her hair, and he has to handle all the lines and sails, and the only thing either of them can do is laugh.
3. Halloween is a strange anniversary to have. He takes the next Monday off and on Friday flies to Chicago for the weekend. She tells him anecdotes about her singles group, he tells her about the stories behind the news. They eat dinner at an Italian place that opened in the spring and every bite, every glance and gesture is foreplay.
The taxi ride back to her house is fraught with tension, and he shivers when her fingers graze the back of his hand.
The door barely shuts behind them and he has her in his arms, kissing madly. He's missed her curves so much, her responsiveness. Sex has never been like this before; she's ruined him for other women.
Alex looks down at Claire beneath him, at the way her face changes and her eyes react to the slightest movement of his body, and doesn't want to leave.
They don't dress up in costumes on Sunday, they don't go out. They spend every minute between dinner Friday and his flight on Monday alternating between the bedroom and the kitchen, and Alex doesn't regret a second of it.
He regrets it when he boards the plane and leaves.
4. Alex gets ridiculously chilled that winter. His toes are always numb and even though he buys wool socks they never warm up completely. The urban canyons channel frigid winds in a way the lake effect never did. He catches cold after cold, and coughs and sneezes his way across New York City in pursuit of the next story. He sees commuters giving him dirty looks every morning and evening on the subway.
Alex mopes and pouts and snaps at Claire when she calls him because his sinuses are aching and he's exhausted from lack of sleep. He wants to slam down the phone, but he was raised to have better manners than that. So instead he makes himself so unpleasant that Claire's voice goes small and near silent and she says goodnight without saying "I love you."
The thrill that zings through him at that shames him in the morning. So does the delivery of chicken soup from the corner deli and the email with the name and phone number of an ear, nose, and throat specialist, appointment already made.
She calls him a couple of days later, when he's hacking up a lung, and talks to him until he falls asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.
Friday night, when he's gone back to his place after an insane day and collapsed in a stupor, he's surprised by a knock on the door. He hadn't ordered the Chinese delivery yet and opens the door to find Claire standing there. She pushes past him while he gapes, and orders him to lie down.
"You're totally exhausted and obviously can't take care of yourself, so." She looks uncertain now, in that endearing way of hers where she can be confident about anything professional and wracked with doubt about everything personal.
He tells her, "I'm glad you came," and it's the truest thing he's said in months.
5. Alex stumbled through his front door, dislodged ash and debris from his hair, and stood there blinking.
It had been six months since he'd last spoken to Claire, after the drawn out, screaming fight brought on by two years separation and the sneaking suspicion that they weren't ever going to live in the same place again.
Alex had spent the day in lower Manhattan, interviewing anybody he could grab before going back to the Times offices and typing up stories in a rush of fury. He'd seen more tears in the newsroom than on the street, for all that reporters prided themselves on their calloused hearts.
And now, tonight, the only person he wanted to talk to was Claire.
The message light on his answering machine blinked, and Alex imagined his parents had left a series of increasingly more frantic messages. The phones had been overloaded and he hadn't been able to reach them. When he pressed the playback button, though, he heard Claire's voice.
"Alex? I see New York on the news." She sounded stressed out. Everybody was stressed out that day. "Let me know you're okay?"
He picked up the phone and dialed her number from memory.
1. Spring arrived and Alex saw Claire's smile in the curve of every tulip. What was a career judged against constant reminders that he was away from her?
2. They go on vacation together that summer. Alex can't believe he's only known Claire for nine months, and been in geographic proximity for two. He takes her sailing, off the Carolinas, and she's completely inept, and makes him completely happy.
She never mentions Trevor Hale once. Alex calls her Sparky as he barks out orders she can't follow.
Wind rushes through her hair, and he has to handle all the lines and sails, and the only thing either of them can do is laugh.
3. Halloween is a strange anniversary to have. He takes the next Monday off and on Friday flies to Chicago for the weekend. She tells him anecdotes about her singles group, he tells her about the stories behind the news. They eat dinner at an Italian place that opened in the spring and every bite, every glance and gesture is foreplay.
The taxi ride back to her house is fraught with tension, and he shivers when her fingers graze the back of his hand.
The door barely shuts behind them and he has her in his arms, kissing madly. He's missed her curves so much, her responsiveness. Sex has never been like this before; she's ruined him for other women.
Alex looks down at Claire beneath him, at the way her face changes and her eyes react to the slightest movement of his body, and doesn't want to leave.
They don't dress up in costumes on Sunday, they don't go out. They spend every minute between dinner Friday and his flight on Monday alternating between the bedroom and the kitchen, and Alex doesn't regret a second of it.
He regrets it when he boards the plane and leaves.
4. Alex gets ridiculously chilled that winter. His toes are always numb and even though he buys wool socks they never warm up completely. The urban canyons channel frigid winds in a way the lake effect never did. He catches cold after cold, and coughs and sneezes his way across New York City in pursuit of the next story. He sees commuters giving him dirty looks every morning and evening on the subway.
Alex mopes and pouts and snaps at Claire when she calls him because his sinuses are aching and he's exhausted from lack of sleep. He wants to slam down the phone, but he was raised to have better manners than that. So instead he makes himself so unpleasant that Claire's voice goes small and near silent and she says goodnight without saying "I love you."
The thrill that zings through him at that shames him in the morning. So does the delivery of chicken soup from the corner deli and the email with the name and phone number of an ear, nose, and throat specialist, appointment already made.
She calls him a couple of days later, when he's hacking up a lung, and talks to him until he falls asleep on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.
Friday night, when he's gone back to his place after an insane day and collapsed in a stupor, he's surprised by a knock on the door. He hadn't ordered the Chinese delivery yet and opens the door to find Claire standing there. She pushes past him while he gapes, and orders him to lie down.
"You're totally exhausted and obviously can't take care of yourself, so." She looks uncertain now, in that endearing way of hers where she can be confident about anything professional and wracked with doubt about everything personal.
He tells her, "I'm glad you came," and it's the truest thing he's said in months.
5. Alex stumbled through his front door, dislodged ash and debris from his hair, and stood there blinking.
It had been six months since he'd last spoken to Claire, after the drawn out, screaming fight brought on by two years separation and the sneaking suspicion that they weren't ever going to live in the same place again.
Alex had spent the day in lower Manhattan, interviewing anybody he could grab before going back to the Times offices and typing up stories in a rush of fury. He'd seen more tears in the newsroom than on the street, for all that reporters prided themselves on their calloused hearts.
And now, tonight, the only person he wanted to talk to was Claire.
The message light on his answering machine blinked, and Alex imagined his parents had left a series of increasingly more frantic messages. The phones had been overloaded and he hadn't been able to reach them. When he pressed the playback button, though, he heard Claire's voice.
"Alex? I see New York on the news." She sounded stressed out. Everybody was stressed out that day. "Let me know you're okay?"
He picked up the phone and dialed her number from memory.