Chapter Twenty-Six ADAM
Chapter Twenty-Six
ADAM
The moment the seatbelt sign turns off with a ping, the flight attendants are on their feet, slipping into the aisle.
On the side divan, Eliza is perched on Carter’s lap, showing him pictures on her phone and chattering away while my best friend wears the dopiest grin I’ve ever seen.
“Sometimes I feel I’m encroaching on their perpetual honeymoon. And they’re not even married yet,” I whisper to Jackie.
In a move that surprised me, she dropped into the leather recliner beside me as soon as she stepped onto the plane, even though the ones facing us stayed empty.
She hasn’t said much, but her knees bounced faster with each mile we speared through the clouds. And now my joke falls flat, while she wrings her hands in her lap.
I’ve tried to act like nothing was wrong after our last conversation, but I wonder if I said too much.
I couldn’t help the bitterness lining my insides.
It’s been sitting in me for years, the bitter knowledge that she wanted to keep me hidden.
That I wasn’t enough to stand beside her in the open.
But the truth was even more repugnant. She believed the worst of me.
I couldn’t even bear to pretend my way back into the fragile ceasefire we’d been balancing this past month.
Out of the blue, Jackie goes still, and in a voice I barely recognize, she says:
“I’m sorry.”
More than the words, it’s the anguish nestled in them that shocks me so much it gives me whiplash. She’s eerily focused on the walnut table in front of us, nodding to herself like she just came to an inescapable conclusion.
“I fucked up.” Her swallow is audible. “I don’t know if it matters to you one way or another, but you were right. I’m the one who broke us.”
My ears ring. I’m staring at her profile, waiting for an explanation.
She sniffles softly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tremble in her lips.
The steady, low-pressure hum of the engines drones on in the rest of the cabin while we sit in this suspended moment.
“I’m sorry for hurting you,” Jackie croaks.
My mind is blank. The apology I fantasized about a thousand different ways suddenly feels like a punch in the ribs. I thought I wanted this. That it would vindicate me. Instead, the sadness and regret in her gaze tilt everything inside me sideways.
I realize this woman could have shot me and left me for dead, and I would still be defending her.
She starts to ramble, but I’m too stunned to stop her.
“I couldn’t trust myself. I had to be smart.
If I’d heard your side, I would’ve believed you.
What if I believed you and it turned out to be true?
I couldn’t afford to be stupid. To have people laugh because I’m a naive, spoiled rich girl.
Nobody would’ve trusted me to make decisions. So I ran.”
She spills it all, running out of air, and my mind is running a thousand miles a minute to make sense of her reasoning.
“Why tell me this now…?”
She turns toward the oval window, throat tensing around a hard swallow.
“Jackie.” It comes out as a warning. And a plea.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to fight my fears,” she says, voice breaking. “I’m sorry I let you down. That it made you feel your love wasn’t enough.”
She didn’t trust me enough not to ruin her future. Did I not show her? Did I not make it plain I was gone for her?
Before I have time to think of an answer, she shoots to her feet. Jackie looks at me with a flat, fragile smile, like it’s the first time in years she’s really seen me. Her lips press further, head bobbing to the rhythm of the thoughts swirling in her head.
And then she’s gone, shoulders a touch slumped, but as always, her chin held high, even in the face of a colossal mistake. The bathroom door clicks shut behind her and doesn’t open for a long time.
I’m left reeling, incapable of not replaying everything from the moment we met till it all went to shit. What’s changed? Why now, all of a sudden?
I don’t know what to do with this apology.
A part of me wants her enough to ache. The other part of me is still grappling with her utter lack of faith in me.
Because it’s not only about wounded pride, but what that doubt says about how she sees me, her disregard for who I am as a person. My core principles.
I would’ve never done that to her. She should have known that.
When she finally emerges, she sinks into one of the single seats in the back, pulls a blanket from the side pocket, and leans her head on the rest, lids closed. The deep line carved between her brows tells me she’s hiding from everybody.
It’s an internal battle not to unbuckle and run to her.
For the next seven hours of the flight, I don’t move.
Back then, denial clung to me the longest. I couldn’t believe it was actually true. That she’d leave like that.
A short burst of anger flared and burned out, then gave way to unrealistic bargaining.
What if she was forced? Maybe something happened to her, and she was afraid to tell me. If she’d just call. If she’d just answer once.
But she didn’t. And I found comfort in the hollow despair.
I never accepted it. That we were done. That there was nothing I could do. There was no forgiveness without closure. Only a wound I kept worrying at.
She’s just handed me the key to moving on, but it feels more like a poisoned gift. It carries with it the weight of a decision.
Can I learn to move past it?
Closure means stepping forward, but I’ve been wrapped in the memory of her. I don’t know who I am without her presence shadowing my soul.
Even when she was thousands of miles away, I clung to her through hurt and hope.
Eliza and Carter take turns sitting on the opposite side of the table, dragging me into small talk. I answer on autopilot.
“Thank you for the referral,” Eliza beams. “Lorena called me about her Hampton place. At this rate, I’ll have to hire people. Can you imagine? Having employees?”
“They’ll have the best boss,” I say.
Carter squints at me. “Are you catatonic?”
“Cleaning out the clutter in my head.”
“Needs a good scrub too,” he mutters.
“Probably.”
Snack bags rustle. A video game pings repetitively. The chatter snags the frayed edges of my thoughts just as they begin to form, tearing them apart, so I pop in my earbuds. I need the playlist before my mind eats itself alive.
Music unfurls, and with it, flashes of memories rush through my mind. White drops of wax on delicate skin, a stifled gasp, the quick flutter of her pulse under my fingertips.
Can’t chance another glance at her. I need to think.
She’s been running through my bloodstream for eight years. I told myself I kept going back for revenge, for some twisted balance. But if I accept the apology and we both go on with our lives…I lose the excuse to be near her.
When the wheels bounce on the runway, my body is stiff. My legs are pins and needles. And my head’s a mess.
Jackie’s still in the back chair, downcast, until we’re clear to exit the plane.
I want to reach her, but on her way out, she’s boxed in by her bodyguards. Outside the plane, her heels click on the metal stairs, the hot, humid air lashing the tarmac, blowing the hair out of her face. The exhaustion written on her features confirms my suspicions. She didn’t sleep either.
Jackie slides straight into one of the two black SUVs waiting for us, with not so much as a glance my way. She’s doing it again. Deciding for both of us: conversation over.
Carter looks at her with a frown, then tips his chin for me to follow him.
And all I can think is, that’s not the car I wanted to be in right now.
“My feet are killing me.” Eliza’s groan ripples through the quiet interior courtyard.
The silverware scrapes louder here, disturbing the hush beneath the old olive tree. The hum of the canals drifts out of reach between the timeworn bricks adorned with faded stucco.
Across from her on the wrought-iron bench, Carter takes her ankle and starts massaging the arch of her foot.
“You’re paying for that list of yours,” he teases. “Nobody forced you to check every place on that map.”
We’d spent the day dodging pigeons in St. Mark’s Square and hunting for a specific hidden bacaro that supposedly served the best fried olives in Italy. We had walked miles of crumbling stone alleyways, fueled by shots of espresso and cups of blackberry gelato that stained our lips purple.
“Are you kidding? What if I never get to come here again?”
Carter laughs, warmth shining in his eyes. “Kitten…I’ll fly you out here anytime you want.”
She still hasn’t come to grips with the reality of the kind of money he wields. Eliza’s like me, even had it rougher. For us, a trip to Europe used to be a lottery-winning dream.
“Oh, I was just so excited.” She hikes a shoulder. “And you never know.”
Carter’s voice eases to a murmur. “Nobody’s taking this from you. I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure all your dreams come true.”
Eliza blushes and blinks fast, a small smile curving her lips. “Only if you’re by my side.”
“Always, kitten.”
Jackie sits on one of the swing benches, half-hidden behind a potted citrus tree, pretending to read. But her head tilts enough for me to spot the twist of her lips, a lone tear slipping down her cheek.
Fuck me.
“Change of plans.” Carter turns to me. “My fiancée and—”
“I’ve never heard anyone use that word as much as you,” I snort.
“Yes. It’s my favorite word,” he grins at Eliza. “So far. Wife has an addictive ring to it, too.”
She looks like she’s going to burst from happiness.
“We’re going to stay in tonight. But you two should go,” he says, shooting a glance Jackie’s way. “I had to bribe and threaten somebody to get a table.”
“We should go if—” Eliza jumps in.
“You need to rest,” he smiles warmly, then bends to whisper in her ear. My internal alarms scream when she giggles and peeks at me, nodding at whatever Carter is saying.
Tonight’s going to be interesting.