14. Chloe
Sunday Evening
My door opens and Adam motors into my office without knocking. I peer over my shoulder at him, thinking I should remark that I’m implementing the same rule he has. I still remember the sting of him snapping at me when we first moved here because I walked into his office without first knocking.
But I don’t say anything. And right now I don’t think I even feel anything. Not guilty about sleeping with someone else. Maybe a bit of anger, though. Maybe like what I’ve just been through is Adam’s fault because I didn’t want to use that blasted hall pass, but he pushed and pushed.
“Hey. Um… I’m home,” he says expectantly, looking a bit confused.
Maybe because I didn’t come to greet him when he arrived a few minutes ago, loudly announcing his arrival.
“Good weekend with Paul. Missed you, though. How are things here?”
I unclench my jaw. “Hey. Good. I’m just trying to get some work done,” I tell him. “Talk to you in a bit?”
He looks surprised at my dismissal. “Oh. All right.”
I turn my back to him, lift my phone and pretend to do something.
He’s gone.
Pressing my forehead to the desk, I let out a heavy sigh. That was probably me giving him a taste of his own medicine. And it doesn’t feel good that I’ve sunk to this.
I keep my head down for at least five minutes before I get up and close the door, then drag myself to the little sofa bed in my office that we figured would work well for overnight guests. I’m thinking I’ll sleep here tonight.
I wrote a text to Alannah this morning after a sleepless Saturday night, telling her I couldn’t talk about what I did, that I need space to process. She’d sent a bunch of texts and called several times. After I finally messaged her, she wrote back telling me she had a feeling I was in GuiltyVille, that I have nothing to feel bad about, and to let her know when I’m ready to talk. I responded with a simple OK because I knew I had to in order to get her to give me time before messaging, calling, or showing up here.
Thirty-odd hours hasn’t brought me any perspective. I don’t know how much time it’ll take for me to come to grips with my night with Derek Steele.
“Chloe?” The door opens and light from the hall illuminates Adam’s face. “Why are you sleeping in here?”
I haven’t slept yet. It’s after midnight and I’m lying on the pull-out bed in the dark, staring at nothing.
“I’m not feeling great so no point in disrupting your sleep,” I say.
He doesn’t answer right away, but then he moves his chair and stops close to the bed.
“You okay?” he asks, voice laced with concern. “You sick or… what happened?”
What happened? What happened?
My dam bursts and I crumble into a heap of emotion, covering my eyes, unable to swallow the ugly sob that comes from the depths of me.
I feel weight on the bed. He’s pulled himself onto it. He pulls me close, wrapping his arms tight around me.
“Chloe, hey… talk to me,” he requests softly, and this makes things worse, because he sounds like the old Adam. He feels like the old Adam.
He’s holding me tight, whispering into my hair. He actually gives a shit. And he hasn’t had the capacity to give a shit about me lately. I’ve missed it.
“I’m not built this way and I don’t think I…” I start to cry even harder, making it hard to speak.
He presses his lips to my forehead and squeezes me tighter. “God, I’m sorry.”
I weep into his chest, wrapping my arms tight around him, too.
It should feel right that he’s holding me like this, but instead, it feels strange. I don’t know how we move forward from here, if we even can move forward, but getting this reaction from him, it feels… hopeful?
I let it out. I cling to him and let it all just pour out of me. All the pain, the embarrassment, the missing him I’ve been doing for months because as hard as it is to miss someone who’s gone, which I know from losing my brother, it’s also really hard to miss someone who’s right there with you.
“You did it or you couldn’t go through with it?” he finally asks.
It takes a while for me to manage to say, “I did.”
He goes rigid and silent for a minute.
I’m about to pull away, feeling like it’s what he wants, but his grip on me tightens.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” he says gruffly into my hair, “Please, please forgive me. I’m so sorry I pushed you.”
I reach for his face. It’s wet. Adam’s crying with me.
And this rocks my entire foundation. Because through all the anger and frustration he’s dealt with these past seven months, he hasn’t shed a tear, not in front of me at least. In the eighteen months we’ve been together, I’ve never seen him cry. He doesn’t cry during sad movies. He once told me he felt bad that he didn’t cry at his grandfather’s funeral despite that they were close, but said he just wasn’t a crier.
But he’s crying with me while he holds me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head vigorously. “Never. Not ever.”
He doesn’t say anything, so I say it louder.
“Never ever ever, Adam. Never.”
“Okay,” he whispers and kisses my forehead. “If you change your mind, I’ll listen. I owe you that.”
I nod, but brokenly repeat, “Never.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been so fucked up. I’m trying. Trying not to be. I promise I am.”
I nod again, unable to form speech.
“I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to give you what you need. And it kills me. It really kills me,” Adam adds. “I owe you so much, Chloe. You’ve been incredible all these months since it happened.”
I squeeze him tighter.
He keeps talking. “You’re too young, too vibrant for the life you’re stuck in now with me,” he says softly. “This broke me. I know a lot of people bounce back and find new purpose, but this really fuckin’ broke me and I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I can be the man you deserve.”
Hearing him choked up, vulnerable, it cuts like a knife.
“W-we d-don’t have to figure it all out tonight, Adam. You’ll bounce back; I know you can do it. Just can’t shut me out. I’m here for you, okay? But be here for me, too. Please. Even a little.”
He lets out a long sigh. “I hope you know that I love you.”
I manage to nod. But I don’t know if I’m being honest here, because I don’t know if he does love me. Like he’s just said, I don’t know if he’s capable of the love I need after all he’s been through. I just don’t know.
He says nothing for a minute, so I put my hand to his face and give him a soft kiss.
“What can I do to make this better?” he asks.
“Just this is enough for tonight,” I manage and snuggle in closer.