53
“Hey,” I say to Adam when I board the plane.
He gives me a different grin…nervous maybe? Smaller than the wide smiles he gave me yesterday. “Hey. Good day?”
“Yeah, you?”
“Yeah.”
I sit next to him, feeling all kinds of weird. I didn’t see him all day. No loitering in the hotel to “run into” me. No ambushing me at work for lunch. Only a text about our departure time. Based on yesterday’s grand gesturing, I didn’t expect him to mean what he said last night about not seeing each other.
“W-what did you do all day?” I can’t help but ask.
His smile widens, “D’you miss me?”
“More like can’t help but be nosy about what exactly you had to do in New Orleans.”
He chuckles, “I did it yesterday, Susan.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean we both know I didn’t have any reason to be here.”
“Really? I, I suspected I guess, but, what did you do all day?”
He shrugs one shoulder and looks out the window as we start taxiing, “Worked out at the hotel gym. Answered a few emails. Ordered food. Really just sat around waiting for your day to be over.”
My mouth flops open. It’s hard enough for me to imagine him waiting around for me all day, but that he just…stayed at the hotel? Not one meeting? Not one Bell site visit or emergency Zoom call?
And all of this actually was just to kidnap me?
Just to grand gesture me?
He breaks into my spiraling thoughts, “Tell me how your day went, did you talk them down?”
I smile, “Of course I did. I was shooting for shaving off twenty-five cents a unit but they didn’t know that.”
His eyes twinkle, “And?”
“Forty-five cents.”
“That’s my girl,” he laughs. “What else?”
I tell him about my meeting. He doesn’t get out his phone or change the subject. He listens and even asks questions. Like when we were young and fresh on our jobs, I tell him of my latest conquest. I see it again, his competitive streak, his drive that I always thought matched mine. More than that though, I forgot what it was like to see him so…proud of me.
I go on and on, too long.
“Sorry, you probably didn’t want to know quite that many details,” I finally say.
“I did. Just because I have been miserable in my job doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy watching you absolutely dominate in yours, Susan. You have always been a force to be reckoned with. I know why your dad promoted you so early and keeps your team so small. I mean he doesn’t need anyone else. You singlehandedly move the business forward. You’re like a human wheel.”
I shake my head. “You’re crazy. Sales moves the business forward. Dad moves the business forward.”
“Your dad says big blanket statements like ‘I want us in every Target in the country.’ Who actually makes that—”
“There’s a whole distribution team who—”
“No. Stop it right there because you’re going to list all the different arms of the company and say well, technically Emerson runs the finances and technically Alice runs H.R. but all of them are deaf, dumb and blind to anything outside their own arm and you know it. That’s why you spend half your life explaining how one team has to work with the other or else it all falls apart. You’re the glue.”
I scoff, “I thought I was the wheel.”
“You’re everything, Susan.” He looks away, shaking his head. His voice is quiet when he repeats himself. “Everything.”
We sit in silence for a little bit but it’s not awkward. It is heavy though. Charged. Emotional, even though we’re not looking at each other or touching or anything. Before I know it, the captain is letting us know we’re beginning our descent into Tulsa.
“Well, kidnapee, how would you rate my offensive strategy?”
I swallow. “I mean it’s my first time but I’d say about…eight out of ten.”
“Eight! What’s the deduction for?”
“Delay of game.”
He starts to open his mouth to protest but then realizes my meaning. Delayed by about half a decade. He opens his mouth again and I pray he doesn’t ask if he’s too late. Because I don’t know the answer anymore.
He stares at me in a way I don’t think I’ve seen since maybe Jonathan was born. I can sense the feelings in his gaze, down in my bone marrow. Love, longing, awe, appreciation, want.
“Did…if…I,” I stammer, “I told the boys I’d be home for dinner tonight.”
“I know,” he looks away and then back again and his eyes change from the sea of emotions they just were to simple nervousness. “Can I come?”
_____
We have a nice evening. A simple dinner of lasagna and veggies and garlic bread, a bunch of hilarious stories from the boys, a quick game of catch in the backyard and a longer-than-usual bedtime routine including both of us.
The night has been downright picturesque.
And it kills me.
I’ve died a little every time Adam has laughed. Every time he’s tussled the boys’ hair. I had to excuse myself at one point when Mikey moved to sit in-between the two of us, one hand on my thigh, one on Adam’s.
My heart almost stopped every time Adam made an excuse to touch me, like brushing arms as he grabbed the salt or walking past in the tiny kitchen walkway, rather than going around the island, so he could casually put a hand on my waist to move me to the side.
“Night buddy!” I call as Adam walks our oldest down the hallway.
And he knew. Of course he did. That’s why he asked to join us for dinner.
All the grand gesturing yesterday and then this. Not really a gesture at all, definitely not grand. Just him, present, alive, happy, whole. Like I’ve wanted him to be. Like I needed him to be.
But he wasn’t.
I still haven’t even asked him who he’s been dating, or how he’s been working on himself. What does practicing communicating his feelings even mean? If he didn’t like our life before, why would he like it now? What’s keeping him from going right back into his dark, bitter place after a few years or months?
Do I even want to bother with those questions?
I sigh heavily as I put the last dish in the dishwasher.
At the same time, my phone buzzes.
Sooner89: Can’t wait for tomorrow!
I just reply with a smiley face. I haven’t even had any mental space to think about Pearce and our breakfast date. Am I still excited? Do I still want to see where things can go with him?
“Thanks for letting me barge in,” Adam interrupts my thoughts.
I straighten and wipe my hands on the hand towel. “Sure.”
I know he’s moving in for a hug before he does it, like spidey sense or ESP. I don’t fight the hug either. I let him envelop me. I let it feel amazing.
He pulls away just enough to lift a hand to my chin.
“I want to kiss you so bad,” he whispers. Then he changes his voice, grinning slightly, “You should be kissed and often, and—”
“And by someone who knows how,” I finish the Gone with the Wind quote automatically.
“Thought about it all damn day yesterday. All night tonight.” I freeze and he goes on. “I won’t.” He studies my lips. “I shouldn’t.”
“No?” I barely ask.
He shakes his head and swallows. “I won’t be able to stop.”
“I will.” I blurt.
He starts to smile, “You sure ab—”
I cut him off. It’s all been too much. The smiles, the selfies, the memories. The talking to me, the tenderness with our boys. I don’t have control of myself.
My mouth seals onto his and his lips are perfect as ever. Soft, firm, warm. After a half a second of stunned surprise he takes over, holding my face and opening my lips with his tongue. He consumes me, but it’s not hurried or routine or …anything like our kisses from the last few years. His motions are hard and hot but slow and serious. Like he’s desperate for more but also trying to slow time.
I move a hand into his hair and he groans. He moves a hand down to my ass and I arch into him. His other hand goes down and I know he wants to lift me up, carry me, take me to our room and keep devouring me until all I can do is scream his name.
So I stop us.
I slump into his chest and he exhales into my hair.
Both of us struggle to catch our breath.
After a minute he clears his throat and I can feel his arms tense around me. Nervous Adam is back. “Hey, I have one more thing I need to tell you. Well, show you. It’s one of our new properties. Will you meet me tomorrow morning? Before work?”
My pulse starts to jackhammer in my skull. I stall, feeling guilty, which is stupid. I have every right to go on a date. “I…I have a breakfast meeting.”
“Can you move it?”
I frown. “No, I can’t just move it.”
“You’re Susan Canton. You can.”
I pull out of his arms, but I can’t look at his gorgeous, just-kissed face. I may feel a little guilty but I definitely feel a lot irritated. I’m not just going to up and move my schedule around for him. “Uh, that would be extremely inconsiderate and—”
“Wait, why are you acting weird?”
I finally make eye contact with him. “I’m not acting weird.”
I am.
“Wait.” He narrows his eyes. “He’s trying to make up for standing you up isn’t he?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He sneers a small laugh, “Don’t try to take up lying now, you’re no good at it.”
“Not everyone is,” I jab at him with an accusatory tone he doesn’t miss.
Adam runs a hand through his hair. “I deserve that. But if he’s half a man at all he’ll take whatever time you can give him!”
“Well then why can’t you?” Both of us are raising our voices now.
He sucks in a breath to pop off at me, but deflates instead. “I can, Susan. I will, it’s just, this is time sensitive. I was going to…listen I have a whole thing planned and I didn’t factor in a damn breakfast date.”
“What kind of thing?”
“I mean, I’m not kidnapping you again. Although, if it keeps you from seeing some douche canoe loser—”
“He’s not a loser.”
“He stood you up, disappointed you. Hurt you. Lo.ser.”
I tilt my head, “And what does that make you exactly?”
He closes his eyes and sighs. “The biggest loser of all losers. I knew what I had and I still blew it. I am the most stupid. The biggest asshole. But this loser,” he points to his chest, “is…reformed. And I know you and I love you and I miss you and I need to show you something tomorrow morning.”
“Adam…” I slump into the countertop behind me for support.
“Don’t answer now. Sleep on it. I’ll text the address. If you come, I’ll know I still have a shot. If not…” I look up, wondering how he’ll finish that sentence. He looks away and his voice wavers. “If not, I'll try to be supportive. Be happy for you.”
All I can do is sniff, because hearing him get emotional will always make me emotional. The only other time it’s ever happened, apart from very recently, was when my mother died and when our boys were born. I never even saw him cry about his uncle. I bet he did, though, now that I stop and think about it, now that I know what his uncle meant to him. I bet he wept alone in his truck.
“All right?” Adam finally asks, since I can’t come up with a reply. “You’ll sleep on it?”
“All right,” I say. He takes one long step to kiss me on the forehead, a long, hard press of his lips, and then he lets himself out the back door.
I go through my bedtime routine in a daze, thoughts ping-ponging all over the place. I want to text my sisters but I don’t. I want to beg Jenn for advice but I won’t. I need to decide on my own.
Should Adam get a second chance or not?
Should I postpone my breakfast with Pearce?
Should I even make a final decision? Going to meet Adam doesn’t have to mean we’re back together. Going on a date with Pearce doesn’t mean I can’t also keep listening to all Adam has to say, does it?
Though, anyone in the ring with Adam doesn’t really stand a fair chance, do they? As if he can sense my thoughts, my phone blows up. I see a notification from the LVR app first.
Sooner89: This is the address right? [Map Link] 8AM?
Then I see the text, one minute later.
Adam: Here’s the address [Map Link] 8AM
Then, one minute after that, another ping.
Sooner89: After, all, tomorrow is
I reply to Pearce with "Another Day!"
Wait…that’s two Gone With the Wind quotes in the span of a couple hours. That’s weird. And Adam saying movie quotes two days in a row is just weird anyway. I mean, since when?
And why did their texts come at the same time?
And why 8AM precisely?
This is…it’s all too much to just be coincidence, isn’t it?
But you already tested this theory, Susan.
I texted Pearce with Adam right in front of me. And on the trip yesterday, texts came through the LVR app when Adam was not anywhere near his phone. It can’t be him.
He doesn’t need to text me through an anonymous app.
And he would never call me sweetheart.
And he would never ever open a food truck.
But…
Am I hoping he’s somehow texting me incognito?
And what does that mean if I am?
I lock my phone and plop it down on my nightstand like it’s burning my hand.
My fingers go to my mouth without conscious thought.
Whew, that kiss tonight.
My toes curled. My skin hummed. My insides coiled tight.
Not to mention what he did to me with that mouth of his last night.
But do I really miss and want Adam, or am I just lonely?
Do I want to risk trying with him again because it’s what I truly want or because it’s seemingly easier than starting over?
I guess maybe in the morning, I’ll find out.