Chapter 15 #2
He'll survive.
His reply comes immediately.
He's inconsolable. I've tried treats. I've tried belly rubs. He just sighs and stares at the elevator door.
Maybe he's sick of you.
Impossible. I'm extremely charming.
I actually laugh at that one. Out loud. Jayne looks up from her desk through the glass wall with one eyebrow raised. I wave her off because otherwise, she’d shoot up from that chair and barge right back in here to find out what I find so funny. I nibble on my lip as I reply.
Charming. Sure.
You wound me.
You'll recover.
That’s heartless.
Nope. Just efficient.
I'm smiling at my phone like an idiot. I need to stop.
But before I can put it down, another message pings.
Lunch is on its way. Should arrive in twenty.
I stare at the screen, my mouth falling open.
I didn't order lunch.
I know. I did. You forget to eat when you're busy.
My fingers hover over the screen. And wouldn’t you know that my stomach picks that second to start growling? I run a hand over it, still smiling like a loon when his next message comes through.
It's from that Italian place you like. The one we passed on our run with the good carbonara. Just eat it.
How do you know about the carbonara?
Warmth spreads through my chest. I try to ignore it. I did point out the restaurant. Guiseppe’s. He was panting so heavily, I didn’t even think he heard me.
But he remembered.
Thank you.
I type the words, then delete them. They’re too… sincere. So I start again and land on something a lot closer to home.
Fine. But I'm not admitting this is thoughtful.
Wouldn't dream of asking you to.
Twenty minutes later, the carbonara arrives at Jayne’s desk. My mouth waters as the smell reaches my office. Jayne brings the bag in to me and dangles it in front of her.
“You never order lunch from here. You can’t eat big meals during the day because they make you too tired and sluggish.” She lifts an eyebrow. “Lemme guess… you didn’t order it.”
I swallow my snarky reply and grab the bag. Heat rises in my cheeks, but I can’t stop smiling.
So glowy.
I eat every bite.
Luna calls a few hours later.
“Tell me everything,” she demands before I can even speak. “I want details. Descriptions. Possibly diagrams.”
“Hello to you, too.”
“Hi, yes, love you, now tell me about the hot husband you're living with.”
I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, so ready for a nap after my delicious surprise lunch. “There's nothing to tell.”
“Liar. I can hear it in your voice. Something's happening,” she insists.
“Nothing is happening.”
“Have you kissed him yet? Like, really kissed him? Not the bullshit wedding kiss.”
I pop up in my chair, her words like a record scratch sound effect. “Luna.”
“That's not a no,” she says in a sing-song voice.
“It's not a yes either.”
“But you want to.” It's not a question. “Oh my God, Adriana. You want to kiss him.”
I press a hand to my forehead, my heart thumping hard. His gorgeous face pops into my mind and the tiny, all-too-familiar tingles begin their relentless dance in my belly. “I don't—”
“Don't even try. I've known you your whole life. You get this thing in your voice when you're trying not to feel something.” She pauses. “And you've got it now. Big time. I can hear it.”
I rub my temples. “It's complicated.”
“It really isn't. He's hot. You're living together. There's clearly chemistry. What's the problem?”
“The problem is that this isn't real. It's a contract. An arrangement. And he’s your age, for Pete’s sake! I have too much on my plate to even think about romance. Getting emotionally involved would be—”
“Human?”
“Stupid.”
“Same thing sometimes. And the age thing, really? You look like you’re thirty and you’re in better shape than any of my friends.
” She sighs. “Adriana. Listen to me. I know you've spent your whole life being careful and strategic. You always make sure every decision serves a purpose. But sometimes things just... happen. And that's okay. It’s called life, you know? You should live it.”
I swivel around in my chair and stare out the window. How would it feel to have his arms wrapped around me? To feel his lips on mine, devouring me like he can’t breathe without me?
But then I shake my head.
No. The life I chose for myself isn’t a romance novel. Sure, I like to indulge in those stories and experience all the feels, but that’s not reality. Not for me.
“Things don't just happen to me, Lulu,” I say.
“Maybe they should. Or rather, maybe you should let them instead of blockading yourself from things that may turn out to be incredible.”
I don't have an answer to that. So I flick a piece of lint from my skirt.
“He seems like a good one,” Luna says, softer now. “From what I saw at the wedding. From what you're not saying. He actually sees you, doesn't he?”
My throat tightens. “I don't know.”
“You do. You're just scared to admit it.”
I roll my eyes. “When did you become a therapist?”
“I took a psychology class in college. I'm basically an expert.” She pauses. “But seriously. Don't sabotage something good just because it wasn't part of the plan. You're allowed to have things, Adriana. Even things you didn't expect. And I know this was unexpected, but it’s right in front of you.”
I let that simmer on the back burner while we talk for a few more minutes about Dad and his condition; Mom and how she’s holding up.
But after I hang up, her words stick with me.
You're allowed to have things.
I've never believed that. Not really. Everything in my life has been earned, fought for, plucked out of a world that wanted to shape me into someone else's idea of who I should be.
The idea that something could just... be given. Be easy.
It doesn't compute. Not for me.
Maybe it never will.