Chapter 6 Micah
SIX
MICAH
It’s stupid.
I know it’s stupid.
But I’d gotten an array of fruit for a fresh fruit salad, and I’m hoping that Adam likes the surprise instead of complaining that I shouldn’t have spent the money on it.
Maybe it’s time to talk to him about getting my own job. At least then, I’d be useful. I’d be able to contribute to the household, and he wouldn’t have to get angry when I mess up something that was so important.
I’d probably mess up a regular job too, though.
Since meeting Ilya, I’ve been keenly aware of the feeling of the noose tightening around my neck, and it only seems to have gotten worse since I “cheated” on Adam with another man.
It’s something I need to let go of.
I love Adam.
I want to be with him, not some Russian mobster I was supposed to inform on. Kind as he’d been, well… Adam tries to be kind, too, and he has sweet moments that remind me of the real him, the one who cares for me and loves me.
I chop up the fruit with care, not wanting to slip and cut a finger, tossing it all into a bowl.
My mind meanders, though, back to the new app I’d installed on my phone. I’d gotten scared in the end and almost deleted it, only to figure out a way to rename it and change the icon so it looks like a game.
I don’t know why I bothered. It’s not like I have a chance in hell at getting close to him without cheating on Adam in the process, and I don’t want to cheat on Adam with a member of the Russian mob.
Even if it does feel like Ilya has a magnetic quality to him, something that draws me in despite the way he should be pushing me away.
I can’t lose that connection, new as it is, fragile as it is, even if I know I’ll never use it.
I’m almost done cutting up the last of the apples when the door opens, and I instinctively tense.
I still don’t know what Adam’s going to do about this surprise, and it has me wishing I hadn’t done it at all.
“Hey, babe,” Adam says as he steps into the kitchen, smiling wide. He’s holding a bouquet of flowers. “I saw these while I was on my way back, and bought them on a whim.” He hands the large bouquet to me.
My heart flutters as I look at the array of red, pink, and white roses with smaller flowers in between them. I breathe in the familiar scent — the one I get when he’s celebrating an anniversary, or my birthday, or…
Or something he’s done to hurt me.
It’s never just “on a whim.” Nothing Adam does ever is.
I try to push those thoughts away.
Damn it.
I’m such an ungrateful little brat for thinking about that when he’d gone and done something nice for me. He hadn’t had to have a reason to give me a gift like this.
The price tag is still on the bottom of the bouquet wrapper, letting me know it cost $60.
The amount makes me swallow hard, and I hesitate for a moment before murmuring, “You didn’t have to do this, Adam.
” Before he can get the wrong idea, though, I add, “But they’re gorgeous. Thank you. I love them.”
I fill a vase with water and transfer the bouquet into it, setting them on the kitchen table.
“They made me think of you.” Adam kisses my cheek. “My beautiful Micah.”
I press against his body, and I turn my head so he can kiss my lips properly instead.
Adam wraps his arms around me and lets the kiss linger, almost like he enjoys the act of kissing. I sigh happily and open my mouth—
But Adam pulls away and looks at the counter. “You’re making fruit salad? Why?”
My heart plummets into my stomach. “There was a sale,” I say clumsily, the lie making my tongue feel thick, but it’s not like I can say it reminds me of another man. “I thought it would be a nice surprise for dessert.”
Adam huffs, and I tense up at that small sign of annoyance. “You should have asked first,” he says. “I booked us reservations at a restaurant for tonight.”
“Oh,” I say in a small voice. “I’ll put it in the fridge. It’ll hold up for a day or two…”
“It’s going to turn soggy. Who likes soggy fruit?” Adam mutters.
I don’t mention that he likes soggy fruit, when it’s at the bottom of a yogurt cup.
“Anyway, let’s go get changed,” Adam says. “We’ve got about half an hour to get there.” He pats my ass before walking to the bedroom to change out of his uniform.
I look at the mess on the counter. Do I quickly put everything away? Or do I follow him and leave it for later?
The indecision makes me linger in the kitchen long enough for him to call out, “Micah?”
I put the container in the fridge, leaving the fruit peelings on the counter. I’ll clean it up as soon as we get home.
I head into the bedroom, forcing a smile. “Where are we going?” I ask as I rummage through the closet for something to wear.
“There’s a restaurant with live music I wanted to check out,” Adam says. “I hear some great cellist is playing there tonight. You like the cello.”
It’s a thoughtful gesture, and I smile at him. “Thank you,” I tell him. “That’ll be nice.”
I wish he liked to hear me play, but I know I’m not good enough for him to enjoy listening to.
Adam puts on a pair of jeans and a button up shirt. He looks good, reminding me of the first time he’d taken me on a date.
Now I feel even guiltier about having Ilya’s number in my phone.
“You ready?” Adam asks, giving me a once over. “Don’t you have nicer shirts? They’ll kick us out if you go in that. Pick something better.”
His tone of voice has me instantly obeying, instantly yielding, and I grab a different one. I pull on the soft shirt, hoping it passes muster.
He looks critically at me, but to my relief, he doesn’t find anything to complain about this time.
“Ready,” I say. I’m not. All I can think about is the mess in the kitchen, and my eyes start to water.
I don’t think Ilya would get upset with me if I left a mess because he made surprise plans. I think he’d like the thought.
“Thank you for planning this,” I say quietly as I get into his car. Normally I’d take the subway or bus to get around the city, but Adam hates public transportation. He says it’s because he knows what kind of crime happens in the subway, but it’s really that he thinks it’s dirty.
Of course, driving isn’t faster than the subway when we end up stuck in traffic.
Adam taps his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. “What is taking so long? Don’t people know how to drive?”
I want to say something comforting, something that’ll make him calm down or even laugh, but I don’t know what that could be. “I guess not,” I say instead, opting to agree with him instead. “Did you have a good day?”
“Got to do an arrest,” Adam says. “But later I got sent to a bullshit domestic. Women keep lying about this shit.”
I wobble a little, hating when he goes off on his tangents about women who need to keep their mouths shut and stop provoking their husbands.
Like I do.
“That sucks,” I whisper.
I wonder if Ilya would hurt me, or if his touch would remain gentle. I wonder if he’d yell at me, or tell me I’m doing everything wrong.
I wonder how Ilya would feel about him being so dismissive of cases where women “lie” about their husbands hitting them. Probably the same. If he’s mafia…
But he doesn’t feel needlessly violent.
The cars ahead of us start moving, and Adam lets out a soft growl as he hits the pedal. I tense when I see the light ahead is yellow, but Adam speeds up. We’re only halfway through the intersection when the light turns red.
I’m used to it, but it doesn’t make it any less nervewracking. I clutch my seatbelt so tightly that my knuckles turn white. I want to protest, to beg him to drive more carefully, but I know that would only set him off more.
By the time we get to the restaurant, my heart is racing, and I wish we hadn’t gone anywhere at all. I wish we’d stayed home to enjoy the fruit salad, so I could appreciate the roses and the sweet gesture there.
But he arranged this, too, and I’ll get to see a real cellist in action.
The restaurant is nicer than what we usually go to, and it isn’t often that we do anything in public together. Adam smiles at the hostess, and never once touches me as she leads us to our table.
I angle myself so I can view the stage better. The cellist is already setting up. Her instrument looks gorgeous, nothing like my beat up old thing.
“This is what I needed,” Adam says. “A nice night out, away from all the bullshit.”
I nod in agreement. “It’s really pretty in here,” I say. “I bet the food is fantastic.”
One glance down at the menu tells me it had better be good, because the prices are far out of my price range.
They’re usually out of Adam’s, too, and I don’t know how to feel about the fact that he’s splurging like this for me.
The waiter comes by for our order, and Adam gets the fish entree for both of us as well as a fancy appetizer. He even orders a bottle of wine.
I don’t mention that he shouldn’t drink if he’s going to drive us home.
He can handle his alcohol. And if I drink too, there will be less for Adam to consume.
The cellist begins playing while we wait for our appetizers.
I close my eyes and let the music flow over me. I’m always the most content when I listen to music, and the cello has always been my favorite instrument. It settles some of my anxiety, and I even begin to smile as the piece continues.
“Wow. She’s good. The best I’ve heard,” Adam says, cutting into my thoughts.
My smile stays pasted on my lips as I reply, “Yeah.”
I wish Adam would listen to me play.
I wish he would tell me I’m the best, or at least that I’m talented.
Ilya had.
Why do my thoughts keep drifting back to a man I barely know? He’d complimented me, and he’d kissed me, and he’d done something special and sweet for me… but I know he has to have a dark side, too.
He’s probably worse than Adam, my mind tries to supply, but I can’t bring myself to believe it.
Our food arrives, and the cellist moves on to another piece. Adam nods along to the music.
“Guess there’s a reason she’s a pro. Her playing makes yours sound like cats in heat,” Adam says as he cuts into his fish.