Chapter Forty-Four
Adam
The texts come at exactly the right time.
Or maybe the wrong time; I don’t know just yet. Everything with Emmet is so confusing. It shouldn’t be, but it is, and I know it’s a me thing. My stupid insecurities get in the way, especially when it comes to him.
Emmet
I know it’s been a while since we talked, and I’m not trying to make things weird.
Emmet
Dominic’s getting married next weekend, and he asked if we’d go.
Emmet
It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a trip. Like a mini vacation or something.
Emmet
It’s in Hawaii. I can cover your ticket if you want to go. There’s a hotel room block, so no rush deciding.
Emmet
I thought of you, and… well, I’d like to see you.
Emmet
Hope you’re doing okay.
I wake up to these texts late evening, after sleeping all day. I’m exhausted, because I slept like shit, which has been the norm for the last few months. I lie in bed every night, staring into the dark room, exhausted but unable to relax enough to fall asleep.
I’ve been stressed as hell lately, and for no reason I can figure out.
I just feel awful. Work is a struggle but it’s the only thing I have to keep me occupied on the days I don’t have the kids.
When they’re with me, my days are bright, my mind busy, but when I have to drop them off, that black cloud comes back with a vengeance.
Ian’s birthday is coming up, something he is thrilled about.
Leslie is having a big party for him at her house, and they invited me.
Of course they did, because why wouldn’t they?
It’s a birthday party for our son. It’s going to be awkward as hell, but it’s my son’s fourth birthday party.
I can’t not go. I’m just mad that I didn’t think to do something first so I could invite them, instead of the other way around.
I brush my finger across the screen, right over Emmet’s texts.
I miss him so much that it makes me physically ill.
I’ve so badly wanted to talk to him. Call or go to the bar, but something is stopping me.
Like an invisible wall that pops up only when it involves him.
An anti-Emmet wall, which is really stupid.
Or maybe it’s good. Maybe it’s saving me from something.
I thought I was ready for everything Emmet was offering.
We were together and things were great, but I don’t know.
It’s just a lot. Overwhelming. Too much at times.
The way he makes me feel is scary. But I do know that I love him.
I do know that I’m hurting without him here, yet that wall is stopping me from fixing this, and I don’t know why. Why can’t I just let myself be happy?
Leslie knows about him, she made that clear. She’s accepted it. Hell, she’s been pushing me to talk to him without a single clue of why we aren’t together.
The kids will accept him too. They love him, loved when he was around, and Judy asks about him at least once a week. So what, then? Why am I freaking out? Why am I doing this to myself?
I reread his texts. Specifically, the one that says the trip doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s an innocent comment, but all I can think about is California and what happened there.
Was it the worst thing?
Not even close. I can’t regret anything with Emmet, I just need to protect myself from him.
I just wish I knew why I felt that way. He’s never done a single thing to hurt me. Not in all the years I’ve known him. He’s never done anything but protect me and love me and try to make me see how good our future could be together.
I’m an asshole. A royal asshole, and he still wants me. After all the pain I’ve put him through… he keeps coming back.
I type out my response before I can think better of it.
I could use a vacation. Send me the info, and I’ll look into booking a room. What flight are you on? Maybe there is an open seat.
He gives me all the information, and I book everything right away—though I don’t tell him that just yet.
I don’t want to seem too eager, though I don’t know why.
He wouldn’t judge me for it. In fact, it would probably make him happy.
There isn’t an opening on his flight, so I have to get another one, but I make sure I get the confirmation for my room at the hotel.
Maybe this is a mistake, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
After everything is booked, I call Leslie to let her know. I should have asked her first, to make sure it’s okay to switch days with the kids, but it’s summer, so there’s no school. I’m sure she won’t mind. She’s been very accommodating lately.
“Hey,” she answers.
“Hey, I probably should have asked before I booked everything,” I start. “But I’m going to a friend’s wedding, and I’m hoping we can switch days with the kids.”
“When is it?”
“Weekend after this one.”
“Yeah, that’s no problem, Adam. What friend?”
“Someone you don’t know.”
“So we’re still doing that?” she asks.
I sigh. “I’m not doing anything. He’s just a friend.”
“Fine. Keep your secrets. We’ll switch days for that weekend and go back to normal after, meaning you’ll have the kids for the full week.”
“That’s fine, Leslie. You know I don’t mind.”
“I know, I just want to make sure you’re aware. You also need to come by so we can figure out the plan for Ian’s party.”
“It’s weird,” I grumble. “I told you this.”
“It isn’t weird, and I’m going to keep pushing until you see that. Chris doesn’t have a problem with you, so I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about this.”
She’s right. I know she’s right.
“Fine. I’ll go by tomorrow afternoon. Does that work?”
“Sure thing,” she says happily, as if she’s won.
I don’t know what she’s won. All I’m doing is going by to talk about a birthday party, but whatever.
I try not to overthink as I drive to Leslie’s.
I didn’t even ask if Chris was going to be there, which I usually like to know beforehand so I can prepare myself.
Emmet said I was jealous, but I’m not. I don’t want to be with Leslie.
Not at all. I’m over her, us, all of it.
Whatever this is, it’s something else entirely.
I suck the last bits of melted ice from my iced coffee cup, and put it back in the cupholder. After a moment or two, there will be more for me to suck up. It’s a terribly annoying nervous habit.
When I get to Leslie’s house, the cup is empty. All ice melted, all water drank. I take it with me, and toss it in the trash bin beside the garage before going up the stairs and ringing the bell.
“Oh, hey,” Chris says with a smile when he pulls open the door.
“Hi.” I give a small wave, annoyed it’s his face I see when I first get here.
I really am an asshole. He’s a nice guy. He’s good to Leslie, but more importantly, he’s good to my kids. They talk fondly of him, and he’s accepted them into his life.
“Come in,” he says.
I do, trying not to feel weird about this whole thing. I don’t know why it’s weird; it shouldn’t be, but it just doesn’t feel right. I need to get over myself and stop acting like I don’t know how to be a mature adult.
“Can I get you a beer?” Chris asks.
“No thank you,” I say.
“Suit yourself.” He goes into the kitchen and pulls open the fridge door. I take a seat at the island and twiddle my thumbs while I wait for Leslie to show up.
Chris leans against the counter, bringing the can he just cracked open to his lips. It’s early afternoon, and he’s drinking already? I sigh internally, because now I’m just looking for issues.
“Do you always day-drink?” I ask.
He smirks. “When I have yard work to do, yes.”
“Yard work?” I ask.
“Cutting the grass. Weeding. Watering the plants.”
“Oh, right. Because they don’t get enough water from the rain.”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll go get Leslie.”
“Good idea,” I mutter, not sure if he heard me or not. I guess it’s better if he didn’t. Being rude to the guy in his own house isn’t nice.
I sit in the kitchen, in the pure silence, for far too long. I almost get up and go look for them. When I’m about to, Leslie walks in.
“Sorry,” she says. “My mother would not get off the phone.”
“How is she?”
“Well. Do you want a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“I’m going to make a coffee, then we can chat.”
I watch as she gets to making a coffee in the one-cup side of her fancy coffee machine that probably costs over five hundred dollars.
It’s not that we didn’t have fancy things. We did. We had a good life and never hurt for money. But something about that coffee machine rubs me the wrong way.
Her back is to me as she grabs a mug, presses the buttons, and stares out the window.
I catch a glimpse of Chris pushing a mower, his shirt off. He stops and waves at her with a stupid smile on his face. She waves back.
That’s when it hits me—what my goddamn problem is.
I’m not jealous of him being with Leslie. I’m not jealous of their stupid fancy appliances.
I’m jealous of what they have.