Chapter 37 Rachel
Currently playing: Kiss Her You Fool by Kids That Fly
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I would say I was currently packing, but packing was a very loose term for shoving articles of clothing into a suitcase that was enough to pass through TSA guidelines. With Dave Grohl’s voice practically shouting in my room and me angrily shoving bras into a mesh side pocket of my yellow luggage, the overall mood of today called for a playlist that I would label pissed because the man of your dreams is clueless.
Or maybe he wasn’t clueless. Maybe he didn’t care at all. No, that couldn’t be it. I mean, there was no possible way. Adam knew how I felt. I’d made it more than obvious over the last few months. Even the last year. He was my first outlet. My only outlet, really. And still he let me go out on a stupid date with a hot baseball player with thick thighs.
Okay, I didn’t actually go. But I wanted to, just to spite Adam. I did ask Calla for the guy’s number, to which she squealed and said she was going to start plotting romance book tropes with Layla for our children to read one day. I didn’t exactly correct her, since I wasn’t sure where to even start with that.
I texted Mason a brief, simple message that said I was caught up on a man who may or may not love me back and that if we did ever go out, it would solely be as friends. He was a sweetie. Calla was right about that. He came back to say that if I ever changed my mind, he would be there. I told him politely not to wait…and I may have said there was a hot young nurse at my dad’s complex who would love for someone to take her out before sending her contact and a picture I stole off her Facebook. Win-win. Actually more like win-lose, because I still didn’t have Adam. Not in the way I wanted.
A few days after finishing up Liam and Marigold’s project, Adam was called out to work again. He didn’t tell me where he was flying to this time, or when he would be back. Part of me hoped he wouldn’t be back in time for us to all get on the flight to Vegas for the wedding. The other 75 percent was begging him to hurry home.
I was still irritated, though. Still pissed that he either knew what this was and chose to ignore it, or he didn’t actually like me that way. Either way, I was really sick of feeling like I was being dragged along without any form of explanation.
Three sharp knocks came from my door, booming down the hall into my bedroom. I trudged along, stepping over mountains of probably clean clothes and assortments of makeup bags to get to the main entrance. I opened the door to see Adam standing there with a furrowed brow and shaky hands holding his helmet.
“Uh…” I trailed off.
He walked beside me into my kitchen. If I wasn’t so relieved to have him back in the states, I would have probably kicked him out. But I was relieved, so I kept my mouth shut.
“I just left Calla’s. She said your date was yesterday.” He didn’t look mad or necessarily disappointed, but…lost. Like he was asking a question more than making a statement.
I wasn’t going to tell him that I hadn’t gone. Mostly because I was feeling petty, and a small part of me would have loved to see Adam all jealous with his stupid man muscles and heaving chest. I liked caveman Adam. Even when I wanted to strangle him.
So I crossed my arms. “Yes, it was…” supposed to be.
He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends. “Did he kiss you?”
“And if he did? Does it matter?”
“Does it matter? Rachel, I rode here going a hundred and twenty miles an hour, running four red lights to see you.”
When I wasn’t so fired up, I was going to have to remind him to never in his life do that again, especially not for me.
I shrugged. “You do that, but you can’t simply tell me how you feel about me?”
“I know, okay? It’s just, you said you wanted to date again. I didn’t think it would be this soon—”
“You, Adam!” I practically shrieked, not caring if I sounded just like my mother. “I wanted to date you. When I said that, I was hoping you would pick up on the fact that I’ve been caught up on you for months, you big, dumb—” I growled in the back of my throat, not having the words in my state of anger.
I breathed through my nose and did my best to continue. “If you’re jealous, say that. If you want more with me, say that. If I mean absolutely anything to you, say that. You can’t expect me to hop along this relationship forever, having no clue what I mean to you or what this is.” My voice was rising higher and higher. I knew I was bound to get a complaint from my crappy neighbors any minute now, but I couldn’t seem to make myself care. “I can understand your silence most of the time, but I’m not a freaking mind reader, Adam. Help me out here. I mean, are we anything at all? Friends? Part-time lovers? More? What?”
I could see the moment he was pushed too far. I hated that I was the one who’d done it to him, but I couldn’t be expected to stay in the dark forever. Or maybe I wasn’t in the dark entirely, but it was dim. All I could make out were shapes and colors that didn’t give me any sort of answer to the big picture. Not when it came to him. His eyebrows dipped down, pupils gazing up and down, as if he was memorizing this moment.
“More,” he declared in that low baritone of his. He walked toward my door, a hand on the frame and looking back over his shoulder to the floor below me, not even at my eyes.
“I can’t—I don’t know what, and I don’t know how but…more.”
This time, it wasn’t enough for me.