Chapter Twenty-Eight
A fter Carley leaves me to run errands for a welcome-to-Manhattan party her family is throwing for a cousin who just moved here from the Midwest, I walk to the library with visions of croissants in France, beer in Belgium, and red telephone booths in England dancing in my head.
The truth is, I’d love to join Carley on a trip to Europe this summer.
Growing up, we didn’t go away much, aside from a few vacations to Florida and one trip to Scottsdale, Arizona when my mom was there for a business conference.
While she schmoozed with bigwigs, Audrina and I had our first massage and facial.
It was during that vacation when Audrina decided she wanted to work in a spa one day, and she’s now the assistant spa manager at a fancy day spa.
But I’ve never been out of the country, not even to the Caribbean.
My shift at the library doesn’t start for another hour, but it’s raining outside.
Adding bulky umbrellas to already congested city streets makes walking in Manhattan a bit of a nightmare.
Rather than wander around the neighborhood aimlessly or spend money I don’t have on more coffee to justify staying at the bakery longer, I arrive at work early and head straight to the back room.
I open my Rocket Money app hoping there’s a way I can swing Europe with Carley after all.
She’s right that I’m only twenty-four but live like I’m the single mother of two—like my mom did—sacrificing play for work.
But unlike my mom, I don’t have dependents relying on me.
Taking a break wouldn’t hurt anyone except, perhaps, myself.
My salary potential will increase once I finish my master’s degree, so putting it off will delay my ability to comfortably order quiche lorraine at Le Pain Quotidien that much longer.
A vacation will also put me further in credit card debt since I definitely don’t have enough money saved to pay for it outright.
I realize while scrolling through my sorted expenses that unfortunately most are nonnegotiable, like rent, phone, and my share of the groceries.
I could cancel my NYSC gym membership, but with my student discount, it costs me so little it wouldn’t make much of a difference, and if I don’t allocate some money for food and drinks with friends, my mental health will suffer.
I tap my nose in thought. Payments on my school loans aren’t due until six months after I graduate.
Would it be worth it to stop paying the minimum balance early?
Or drop to one class a semester? I lower my head to the table in defeat.
I’m not going to find a solution right now so I might as well take a nap.
“You’re here.”
I look up at Adam’s smiling face and my belly flips.
“Can I join you?” He waves a cardboard box with a sandwich from Pret and a bag of salt-and-vinegar kettle chips at me.
“Of course.” I sigh.
“What was that for?”
“What?”
“The sound you just made.” He mimics me by taking a sharp inhale then letting it out loudly . “Are you tired or frustrated?”
“Both?” Maybe if I got a different library job with more hours, I could swing Europe.
But it was a stroke of luck that I got this one.
And I was just promoted! There’s no way lightning will strike twice.
Besides, I love this library and my colleagues.
And now Adam, who’s staring at me, waiting expectantly for more details, is here too, at least for now.
I don’t love Adam, but I sure do like him a lot, despite not knowing what we’re doing.
“I told Carley I can’t afford to go with her to Europe this summer. ”
“And you want to go?” He takes a bite of his egg-salad sandwich.
I point to the budgeting app on my phone. “Yes. If only I had access to my trust fund.”
“Does your mom not have the money to help you out?” He holds out his bag of chips.
I take one and bite into it. “Honestly, I don’t really know her financial situation.
I mean, she’s got a very important job at a pharmaceutical company and it’s just her.
Well, my sister lives with her now, but it’s temporary and I don’t think it’s costing her much extra.
She’s probably in good shape, but she worked tirelessly for every dollar.
When we were choosing majors for college, she urged us to pick something that would easily lend itself to getting a job because she majored in sociology and minored in psychology, neither of which qualified her for much after graduation besides more school.
She worked reception and office-manager jobs for little pay and then stayed home when we were first born.
But when our dad left, his shark of a divorce lawyer got him the minimum alimony and child support payments, which he barely paid. ”
“He’s as bad as mine.”
I shrug. My dad is a nonentity in my life, not worthy of discussion.
Audrina has tried to track him down with social media, but I already have too many regrets about the way I treated Nana Lena to waste more energy on him.
Considering how little time I had with him, it’s easy to forget I even have a father sometimes, and also better for my mental health not to dwell on it.
“Anyway, my mom did what she had to do and that meant working her ass off.”
Adam studies me. “I bet she’s a great mom.”
I nod. “Not in a television sitcom way, but I think so. I remember her coming home from working late just in time to tuck me into bed. Sometimes I’d be mostly asleep but would feel her kiss me goodnight.
She always sounded so tired, but I could feel the love in the kiss she left on my forehead and the way she pulled the blanket up to my chin before leaving the room.
” I smile at the memory. “She worked so hard to raise me and Audrina. She paid for our college educations on her own. She’s helping Audrina out again and that’s enough.
I want her to be able to retire soon and giving me handouts will make it that much harder.
I’d definitely ask if I really needed the money, and I know she’d help me out.
But I don’t think a girlfriend trip to Europe qualifies as a necessity. ”
Adam’s eyebrows knit together. “I guess it depends on your definition of necessity . Maybe you should let your mom decide.”
“Thanks, Aunty Karen.” I don’t bother to disguise the snark in my voice in response to the unsolicited advice.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Sorry. You obviously know your mom better than me.”
“I just wish my tastes ran to a higher-paying career because the thought of being poor for the rest of my life makes me want to slap my younger self for being all, ‘Libraries are the best ! I want to work at a library when I grow up!’” I contort my face in an expression of disappointment at teenage Sabrina’s choices.
Adam chews and swallows. “Careers that pay well are overrated.”
I picture him at one of his previous corporate jobs.
I’m positive he didn’t wear the tattered although extremely well-fitted jeans and T-shirt he’s wearing now when he worked at the bank and probably not at the cruise headquarters or beer distributor either.
I’m also fully familiar with the pathetic salary of a library page.
“You say that so casually. I assume you took a huge pay cut to work here. That must be hard.”
He shrugs. “I was always relatively entry level from switching industries, but yeah, the pay was higher. Not that I have much savings to show for it since it went almost entirely to my rent in Philly. But money seems like a worthy sacrifice for not dreading going to work every day. Then again, it’s easy for me to say that while sleeping rent-free on my grandma’s couch. ”
I smirk. “You said it, not me.”
He smiles sheepishly. “But what you do is meaningful. Libraries have so much more soul than a commercial building on Market Street in Philly. They’re crucial to the community.
Maybe that older woman who comes in a few days a week to play solitaire doesn’t have a computer at home or just needs a reason to leave the house.
And what about the people who are clearly homeless and just need a warm place to sit for a few hours?
They don’t bother anyone, and we keep them safe.
” He lifts his chin. “Think about that next time you start doubting your career choices.”
His face is positively earnest, and it has the effect of pulling on my heartstrings and my ovaries in equal measure.
My throat thickens and I touch two fingers to my mouth to keep my lips from trembling.
Adam gets it. He’s one of us. When I’m sure I’m not going to cry, I open my mouth to tell him so.
What comes out instead is, “I’m so turned on right now, I could climb you like the diving board at the town pool. ”
Adam’s eyes darken. “What’s stopping you, Sabrina Finkelstein?”
I clench my thighs. I don’t know where the sweet, library-loving boy went but those words in that deep timbre of this guy are downright scandalous, and definitely in the sexy Bridgerton way. But I attempt to play it cool. “Because we’re in a library , Adam Haber. At work .”
“Excuses.” He laughs.
It’s not the charming giggle I’ve heard before. It’s dangerous and so hot I crave a hand fan and might need a fainting couch.
“We have about ten minutes until my lunch break is over. I was thinking of taking an elevator ride first. Would you want to come?” He stares at me unblinking.
I’m momentarily confused since the main portion of the library is only two floors and I always use the stairs to move between them. Then it sinks in and I pulse between my legs. “I’d definitely like to come.”
The elevator door closes behind us. We’re alone.
Adam’s hands cup my face, and he presses his lips to mine hungrily.
I grasp his shoulders and walk backward a few steps until I hit the wall.
I register a sharp pain in the small of my back, but I don’t care.
Adam pulls my arms over my head and holds them up against the wall.
Then he kisses me right there like he’s been waiting to kiss me his entire life.
He lowers his right hand and slides it into the back of my jeans.
I suck in a breath at the contact. Snap goes the flap of the white bodysuit I’m wearing under a hot pink blazer.
Or should I say “unsnap”? His fingers trace the slickness between my legs for just a second.
“You’re so wet,” he says before slipping his hand out of my pants way too soon.
I press my body against his and grind against his rock-solid thigh instead.
The door opens and we jolt apart. My chest heaves.
Is this what a heart attack feels like? There’s no one there.
I let out a breath. So does Adam. He reaches out his left hand and I’m sure he’s going to close the door again to continue what we started, but he presses two.
We’re currently on the first floor. Disappointment hits me everywhere.
“Thanks for the ride, I guess?” I straighten my blazer, grateful it’s long enough to cover the back of my jeans in case it’s obvious my bodysuit is unfastened.
“Lunch break is over.” He stares straight ahead until the door opens again and turns to me. “After you.”
As I pass him, he whispers, “You’re such a bad girl, Sabrina. This is a library .”