Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I’m in the middle of the same strange, flash-frozen world as last night. Everything dipped in ice. Lovie in the garden. Someone calling my name.
“Elle, love, please wake up.”
Oh no. It was all a dream. Liss and Dakota. The hallway kiss—and then some. Doppelg ? ngers. Laundry rooms. Shedding emotional baggage until I was light enough to slip into the best sleep I’ve had in years.
I shove my head under the pillow. “No.”
“We’re going on a field trip today.” Something warm grazes my lower back, and I’d arch into it if I thought I could feasibly move.
Then his words register.
I peek my head out from under the pillow. “Really?”
Adam’s sleepy gaze meets mine. He’s on his side, propped on an elbow as he studies me. It has to be before dawn based on the light outside. “Really.” He brushes a strand of hair back from my face. “Does it take you a long time to brush this?” His voice is still raspy with sleep, like it takes a little longer to wake up than the rest of him.
I rest my cheek on the pillow, collecting this piece of him like I have all the others. Tuck it away for safekeeping. “Not usually. The dye does make it a little harder to work with, but I just deep-conditioned last night.”
He plays with some of the ends, runs them along my neck, almost tickling. “What’s your natural hair color?”
“Brown.” A few shades lighter than his.
He hums. “Like your eyes. So warm.”
Funny. I think the same thing about him.
Those very eyes flutter as his hand travels the length of my spine. It makes me shiver.
“Are you cold?” Adam says, and I’m enjoying this lazy morning so much, I don’t bother answering. His hand finds my hip anyway, and he pulls me to him. The blanket is tugged up next. Our legs tangle, then our feet. My head comes to rest on his chest. “You wouldn’t be so cold if you wore socks to sleep.”
“I’m not a psychopath,” I say. I burrow into him, and the arms around me tighten automatically, making up for the distance. “You are, like, so comfy.” His soft chuckle rumbles beneath my cheek. “Can we just lay here for a while?”
“Of course.” Adam’s hand slips underneath my shirt, spreading his palm across my back. “But you can’t fall asleep again. I don’t think I’ll be able to wake you up, and we really do have plans today.”
“Keep talking, then.” I might fall asleep anyway, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
He’s quiet for a long beat, and the tugs of drowsiness start to pull me under before he speaks again.
“A pizza pencil,” he says, “is something you buy at the elementary school book fair, or maybe at the public library.”
I’m still so drowsy it takes me a minute to remember what he’s talking about. Halloween. The only time he’s ever broken up with a girl.
“In one of those gumball-for-a-quarter type machines. Fake jewelry, temporary tattoos. Our library had one for food-themed pencils. They came with giant, food-shaped erasers.” Adam lets out a soft laugh. “So, naturally, I wanted the pizza one.”
“Naturally,” I allow.
“It took me almost two months to get it, just finding quarters on the street or in the sofa. So imagine my surprise when, after it went missing, my kindergarten girlfriend showed up to alphabet practice with that very pencil the next day.”
I harrumph, although more mirth is shining through than I’d like. “No wonder you broke up with her. I would have broken her face .”
“She would have been terrified of you.”
“Most people are.” I consider something. “Did the pizza have a smiley face on it?”
“Absolutely.” He kisses my forehead, then shakes his head on an exhale. “Cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”
The next time I wake, Adam is shaking me forcibly. He’s already dressed, surprisingly not in scrubs. I’m a little disappointed. They were supposed to be burgundy today. Instead he’s wearing jeans, for what I think is the first time since we met, and a well-worn long-sleeved tee. I admire his denim-clad butt. God bless America, and also Levi’s jeans.
“Where are we going?” I ask through a yawn. It’s light outside now. “You said we were going on a field trip?”
Adam nods, runs a hand over my disheveled hair. “Wherever you want. We have the whole day free.”
That sounds amazing. No plans. No obligations. No Lovie.
My heart plummets through my butt. “Oh God, what about Lovie? Is she awake? Has she taken her meds yet?” I move past Adam toward the hallway, ready to rip open the door and find my way to her. “Does she need help with her—”
“She’s fine,” Adam says, catching me by the wrist before I grab the handle. “Angie is here.”
“That’s— Angie ?” My tired eyes grow to saucers. “Why?” I gasp, dropping my voice. “Do you think she knows?”
Adam’s half grin is fully sexy. “Knows we slept together? Probably not.”
I slap my hand over his mouth. “First,” I hiss, “we did not sleep together. You wouldn’t allow it.” I make a show of rolling my eyes. He kisses my palm. “Second, don’t underestimate her. She’s very perceptive.”
He peels my hand away, entwines our fingers.
“I think,” he says slowly, “the longer we stay in here whispering to each other, the more likely she is to perceive something incorrectly.”
That gets me moving. Adam slips out to give me privacy, but it’s unnecessary. I’m frozen, staring inside the depths of my overstuffed dresser. I have no idea what to wear. Jeans, probably, right? Adam’s in jeans. But it’s also November. I’ll need to think strategically, no matter how risqu é I want to be.
Fifteen minutes later, after I’ve decided on a loose-fitting band tee and dark skinny jeans—I missed a leg hole, fell over, it was a whole thing—I move to the bathroom. I clip back my hair, slap on some mascara, and thoroughly brush my teeth (and sink-shave my legs).
I can only hope Adam is as good as picking up on my brain waves as Liss. Don’t touch me , I beg him in my brain. Don’t smile at me in that way you do, and don’t you dare look at the laundry room.
Angie Brockman is at the kitchen counter, watching the coffee drip slowly into the pot. Amid the dull browns of the appliances, her golden-brown skin glows in this room.
“Elle!” she says brightly, rounding the island and pulling me into a tight hug. Her body is soft in all the right spots and makes this embrace so comfortable. She hugs like a mom . It’s been a while since I’ve had a mom hug. She holds me closer, like she knows I need this right now.
“It’s been so long.” She pulls back and rests her hands on my shoulders. “How are you? You look good.”
“It’s been … we’re adjusting,” I say. “You know how it is.”
She raises a dark eyebrow, threaded to perfection. “How she is, you mean.”
“That too.” I grin. I can tell why Lovie picked her. Angie listens to my concerns completely and uninterrupted. She hears me when I say something isn’t working with medication or treatment. And she’s always been honest with me, about what to expect timeline wise. How much time I have left. This whole mess with insurance.
I break eye contact when I remember I’m actively keeping something from her now. Someone.
That someone leans against the archway. I don’t let myself look at him, even though it’s all I want.
“What are you doing here?” I slide into my seat at the table. Lying goes straight to my knees.
Angie’s gaze flickers. “Adam requested someone to cover his shift today. He politely reminded me that neither of you have had a full day off in nearly two months.”
That’s not true in the slightest. Adam gives me more days off than I deserve, and he goes to visit his sister and the kids when he can swing it, usually after his Sunday shifts or if Lovie stays in bed. I’m opening my mouth to refute her when she continues.
“And besides, it will be good for me to see how Lovie is progressing with my own eyes. Adam, your reports are impeccable, of course, but it’s still nice to see firsthand. I want to do everything we can to make this a smooth transition.” She pours coffee into a mug and dips her chin. It’s her business face. “I hate to say this—”
“No you don’t,” I interrupt.
She smiles. “—but I have to. You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here. Just get out of the house for a few hours, half the day. I’d love to say I don’t want to see you until dinnertime, but I know you both better than that.”
She grabs the milk from the fridge, frowning as she jiggles the near-empty carton. I force my face not to flush. “I bet Elle has some great breakfast recommendations, Adam. She grew up in this town, you know. This very house.”
“Is that right?” Adam says. I don’t have to look at him to know how smug he is—his voice is doing that all on its own.
She nods out the window. “Her prom date picked her up on that front porch.”
I regret ever telling her that.
Adam isn’t even trying to hide his smirk anymore. “Did he now.” The end of his sentence falls flat.
She nods. “Where’d you all go out to eat, Elle? Maybe you can take Adam there, show him around a bit.”
“Angie.” I close my eyes. “Under no circumstances am I taking Adam to Hot Dog Eddy’s. ”
Needless to say, that date scored no bases. He struck out rather quickly.
“That actually sounds pretty good,” Adam offers, sharing a complicit smile with Angie.
I want to slam my head on the table until I concuss myself. Start this time loop over again. I just won’t get out of bed in the first place. Take that, universe.
She won’t give up, though, and even if I have to take Adam to Hot Dog Eddy’s after all, she is going to kick us out of this house.
When I have nowhere else to go, where do I want to be? More important, what places in my life do I want Adam to know too? I showed him so many parts of myself last night, and I’m still raw from the overexposure. So where do I feel safest?
“I know a place.”