Chapter 29 Adrianna
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Adrianna
“Aunt Ad, can I go to Dina’s? Her house is at the other end of this block,” Bella asks a few minutes after we get home—well, to Nathan’s home.
Or no.
I guess it’s ours now.
Shit.
This is crazy.
It’s just too much.
My niece is practically vibrating with excitement, already halfway out of her shoes, backpack slung over one shoulder like she owns the whole neighborhood.
I clear my throat, trying to sound like the responsible adult I’m supposed to be.
“Um, okay, but be back for dinner tonight. And text me when you get there.”
“Got it!” Bella chirps, darting toward the door.
“Bella,” Nathan calls after her.
She stops, turning with big eyes.
“Use the sidewalk. No cutting through anyone’s yard. And text when you’re ready to come home. Oh, and if you see the man who drove us here following you, that’s okay. He’s your bodyguard,” he says.
“I have a bodyguard?”
“You do,” he says, which is news to me, but considering the whole threat of Giovanni Russo hanging over our heads, I actually think it’s a good idea.
But I don’t even get a word in edgewise, because somehow Bella and Nathan have developed a trust I wasn’t even aware of.
She hugs me quick then turns and salutes him—actually salutes him—before bolting outside.
The moment the door closes, the house goes quiet.
Too quiet.
“Ad?”
My chest tightens as I look around.
The entryway gleams.
The staircase is polished.
Every wall is fresh and bright.
All of it—all of it—has been redone, restored, brought back to life.
And I’m a moron for thinking it’s for me. For us.
But I can’t help it.
There’s this spark of hope inside of me that Nathan really is here for good.
Even if it doesn’t feel real.
Even if it’s extremely unlikely.
Nathan gestures gently.
“Come on, Sparky. Let me show you the rest.”
I follow him into the living room, the kitchen, up the stairs and to Bella’s room. It’s pretty perfect for a girl her age. Ivory walls with plenty of space for posters. Big, sturdy furniture and a full size bed made up with a thick comforter and dozens of pillows.
“You outdid yourself, Nate,” I tell him as I run my hand over the soft bedding.
“She deserves it,” he says and shrugs like it’s nothing.
But it’s not nothing.
It’s everything.
“How about something to drink?” he asks.
I nod and follow him down the hall, but before we get too far, I stop him with a hand on his elbow.
“Nathan?”
His blue gaze glitters down at me as he cocks his head and pauses to listen, and I’m hit with such a strong wave of nostalgia I gasp.
Has anyone ever really just stopped and listened to me like Nathan? The answer is a disappointing no.
I mean, ever since we were in school together, he always had this way of making me feel seen and heard. I don’t know if it’s something he does with everyone or just me, but I do know I’ve never experienced that level of communication with anyone else.
“What is it, Sparky? Talk to me.”
“It’s just, well—” I hesitate, gathering my nerves and thoughts before lifting my gaze to his. “You know, I used to dream about living here with you,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
The words just fall out of me like they’ve been waiting sixteen years.
“Yeah?” A smile teases his almost too handsome face.
“Shut up. I know you know that. Anyway, I remember your grandmother telling me the story of this house, and her bedroom furniture. How it was a gift from her mother-in-law. How it was enchanted to bring happiness to the married couple who got to use it.”
“Adrianna—” he starts softly, and I can see heat building in his electric blue stare.
“No.” I lift a hand, needing a second before I come apart completely. “Don’t, don’t say anything right now.”
His jaw flexes. Hurt flashes in his eyes before he forces it down.
I turn away, letting my eyes trace the perfect edges of the refinished molding in the hallway just so I can keep on standing there with some dignity, instead of simply throwing myself at him.
God, desperate much, Ad?
The truth is, yeah. I am. And I feel fucking raw about it.
“I think we’re both running high on emotions,” I say quietly. “Everything happened so fast. Vegas. The wedding. Last night.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
Last night.
His hands.
His mouth.
His voice in my ear.
The way he held me afterward like I was something precious.
I swallow hard and keep going.
“It’s just…” I exhale, staring at the antique dresser instead of at him. “Sixteen years is a long time, Nate. There’s a lot we don’t know about each other anymore.”
I can feel him watching me. Waiting.
“I have personality quirks you might hate,” I ramble, because if I stop talking, I’ll start feeling, and that is way more dangerous.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not the girl you knew all those years ago.
Not even close. I snore when my allergies act up.
I laugh too loud in movie theaters. I can’t stay awake past eleven unless armed with caffeine and sheer willpower.
And I absolutely—absolutely—hate every mainstream TV show made after 2010 except Stranger Things.
And I will fight about that if necessary. ”
His lips twitch, but I don’t let myself enjoy it.
“Adrianna,” he says, stepping closer, voice deep and wrecking me softly, “I know years have passed. I know we’ve both changed. But you are every bit the girl I knew. And as for whatever’s different, to me, it’s only gotten better.”
He moves another step, his voice dropping, earnest and unguarded. “And I can’t fucking wait to learn everything about you.”
Oh God.
My chest squeezes painfully.
“Nathan, God, why do you have to say things like that?”
“Because it’s true, Sparky.”
“Look, let’s just take it slow, okay?” I whisper. “I mean—we did this to get through the thing with that Russo guy coming after Bella. So let’s handle that first.”
“Ad, that’s not why—”
“Nathan, please.” My voice cracks, humiliatingly, betraying me. “Look, I know you’re a good man. I do. And I think you might even believe you mean all this. But I-I just can’t go through it again.”
“Adrianna—”
I swallow hard, fighting the burn behind my eyes, and I shake my head.
“Please don’t. I don’t want you making promises right now. Not when we’re still under the spell of Vegas weddings and honeymoon nights, and adrenaline, and—just, just not yet. Okay?”
Silence falls between us.
Heavy.
Thick.
Hurting.
He looks wrecked.
Like I reached into his chest and twisted something vital.
Like I took something he was just about to offer me and smashed it before he could finish the sentence.
And seeing that expression on his face—on the boy I loved, the man I married, the man I still want more than I should—makes my heart crack right down the center.
But I can’t let myself believe any of this is permanent.
Not yet.
Not until the ground stops shifting under my feet.
He doesn’t argue.
And somehow, that breaks my heart—I mean that it really fucking hurts—even more.
We walk toward the kitchen—yellow walls, white cabinets, everything smelling faintly of lemons and something warm, familiar.
My throat closes up the moment I step inside.
It’s beautiful.
Thoughtful.
Homey in a way I didn’t expect.
And terrifying.
Because this feels like a life I could have had once upon a time.
A real life.
One I never let myself imagine having again.
My gaze drops to the large granite counter where a kitchen towel is folded neatly. It’s not new, but it’s loved, and clearly, he saved it on purpose.
I touch the edge of it, my hand trembling.
I can feel Nathan behind me—his presence warm and patient and unbearably close.
“Ad, I know you’re not ready to listen, but I need you to promise to let me know when you are. Okay?”
His voice is hoarse with emotion, and that same sentiment echoes within me. I nod and clear my throat.
“I just,” I say, my voice is barely a whisper. “I need to keep my head on straight, Nate.”
Silence.
Heavy. Loaded.
“Sparky, I’ll do whatever you want. But I swear to you I’m not under any temporary spell. This is real, Adrianna. You and me. We were always meant to be together.”
I close my eyes because the truth in his voice is unbearable.
And because I want so badly to believe him.
But wanting him has always been the easiest part.
Trusting that he won’t leave?
That’s the part that could break me again.