Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It’s not supposed to be a competition, but I wiped the floor with Lovie tonight. I even got Final Jeopardy correct. This time, the answer actually was the Rio Grande.
It was nice, not having to account for all of Adam’s limbs. I got to stretch out, enjoy the silence without having to be on or play a part I was ill equipped for.
I push to my feet and hold out a hand to Lovie. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
Her own hand trembles. Her skin is thin as paper, the translucent cream clearly showing her swollen veins and knuckles. “Where’s Bobby?”
“I—what?” I’ve already dropped my defenses for the day. One of my many mistakes.
“Bobby.” Her cloudy brown eyes dart toward the kitchen. “Where did he wander off to?”
I’m not sure whether she means Bobby or if it’s Adam she’s missing. Either way, the solution is the same. “He’s at work. Don’t you want to go to bed? It’s getting late.”
Lovie shakes her head violently, white hair flying out around her head. “I need Bobby.”
“He’s at work,” I repeat softly, clasping her hand tighter. “But I’m here, and I bet by the time we get you settled—”
She pulls her hand free. “I’ll wait for him.” She scoops her puzzle book off the side table and flips it open upside down, patting the page. “I’ll just wait.” In this soft light, her wedding ring glows on her finger. She looks up at me, a wistful smile tugging the wrinkles taut around her mouth and producing extra at the corners of her eyes. “I don’t like sleeping alone.”
Squelching the panic in my chest, I return to my spot on the couch. “Well, who would? It gets cold at night.” I give her a few more platitudes, eyeing the ticking clock. It’s another ten minutes before I’m brave enough to ask again.
“I’m waiting for Bobby,” she reiterates. She glances at the door. “He’ll be home any minute. Maybe he’ll bring me flowers. He does that sometimes, even when it’s not payday.”
And why would it be payday, when today is Monday? Always, always Monday, and always, always waiting for someone who will never come home.
“Are you sure you don’t want to change into your pajamas? The blue ones? He loved—loves those,” I correct myself hastily despite the pulse of hurt in my chest, then dance my eyebrows.
“I’m sure.” Her voice breaks, and it does the same to my heart. “I’d wait for that man forever.”
Part of me is glad she doesn’t remember losing him, the pain and emptiness we pulled each other through. Then I’m sick to my stomach, as if that means I’m glad he’s gone.
“You know what?” I force a waxy smile. “Let me just call Bobby and see where he is.”
Lovie pats her puzzle book twice, then a third time. She clutches the corners. “Oh, that’d be great. Thank you so much, dear.”
She won’t go to bed. And she has to go to bed, because sleep is the reset. Sleep will fix this. But she won’t get off the couch.
What else is a girl to do? She calls Bobby.
“Hello?” Adam’s voice is distorted over the phone, like the distance between us isn’t just physical. When we swapped numbers yesterday, I hoped to last a little longer before needing to contact him. Preferably forever.
“Hey, it’s me. Elle,” I tack on, just in case he has more than one “me” calling him at this hour.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um, well—”
“Is that Bobby?” Lovie bellows, leaning over to speak into the microphone. “Bobby, when are you coming home? This girl’s trying to take me to bed. She must not know I’ve only ever been with you.”
I throw my gaze to the ceiling. I don’t think I knew that. Didn’t want or need to. “ That’s what’s wrong.”
“Oh,” Bobby/Adam huffs.
“Are you—doing anything right now? I know you just got off.” He’s probably at his apartment already, drinking a beer with his feet on his own coffee table.
“But you want me to come back and help get her to bed. After I worked twelve hours today.”
I can’t read his emotions as easily without seeing his face, the little quirk of his eyebrow or the angles of his jaw. “If it’s the money, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”
“It’s not the money, Elle, I—”
A woman’s voice cuts through on his end of the phone. I guess there is another “me” at this time of night, probably petite and blonde and with a cutely upturned nose. Unease settles behind my belly button, a gnawing feeling I equate to not having had enough dinner.
“Don’t worry,” I backtrack. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Wait.” More muffled conversation from Adam and his lady friend. My pulse thuds behind my eyes. Why am I holding my breath? I force it out as he says, “I can be there in half an hour.”
You’d think Adam was Elvis, the way my grandmother lights up at the sight of him twenty-six minutes later.
“Bobby!” She shoots to her feet, as steady as I’ve seen her since she arrived. “I missed you.”
She throws herself at him. Bodily. He staggers back before catching himself. Her arms wind around his waist, not questioning that he’s in scrubs even though Grandpa Bobby worked for a farming company. Lovie buries her face in his chest.
Adam’s wide eyes meet mine, and I bury my mouth against my shoulder to stifle a laugh. He pats her on the back, the movements slow but deliberate. “It’s good to see you. I heard you were being stubborn.”
She cranes her neck to look back at me, and I straighten my features, biting the inside of my cheek so my smile doesn’t poke through. Adam hardens his gaze.
“Can we go to bed now?”
His eyes soften when he looks at her. I think I even see … is that a smile ? Is he smiling at her and grimacing at me?
He takes over like he never left, like he didn’t work a full shift somewhere else. His temper is nonexistent; he’s patient and kind as she tells him about her day. I was none of those things to her. Maybe if I’d been nicer, engaged her better, she would have been more amenable.
I’m not needed here, once again. I excuse myself when Adam starts helping Lovie out of her day clothes. I’m at the kitchen table, head in my hands and tea cooling in front of me in my butterfly mug, when he clears his throat.
“So.”
I groan. “Please don’t. I already know.”
The chair across from me scrapes the floorboards. “What is it you think you know?”
I look up, resting my chin in the crook of my palm. Adam leans back, and one hand comes up to adjust the band of his watch. The stubble is back, the shadows beneath his navy eyes more pronounced. There’s a muscle in his neck that seems tight enough to snap.
“That I said I could do this. Obviously, I was wrong.”
He wets his bottom lip. “Elle, look around. It’s almost nine thirty.” His hand falls to the table, the watch letting out a dull thud. “As far as I’m concerned, you did do this. All day.”
That sounds a little too much like a compliment. “I know you had different plans for your weekend.” Petite plans. Blonde plans.
He shrugs, taps a rhythm on the table with his index finger. “Well.” The corner of his mouth tips up. “I did offer to have someone else come in.”
“I don’t think another nurse would fix anything.” I move my hair away from my neck, which is sticky with cold sweat and panic. “It’s not the scrubs, Adam. It’s you she wants.” That makes one of us. “You as Bobby.”
His finger stills. We stare across the kitchen table at each other. If his watch weren’t digital, I’d swear I could hear it ticking.
Adam’s throat bobs. “That could be a problem.”
I give him a Capital-L Look, like, You think?
“I could … I could stay?” he says. “Sleep here on the weekends. Act as a backup in case it goes like tonight did. Or worse.”
I imagine what worse looks like. I don’t want to go anywhere near worse .
“Would that cause any issues?” I ask. “With anyone. A roommate, or …” Or the woman on the phone.
This time, I actually do hear his watch buzz, and we both glance down. He mutes it. “No. I’ll—” The watch buzzes again, and his jaw hardens. He leaves his hand over the screen. “I will make it work.”
Is he really so spectacular that whoever’s on the other end can’t afford not to hear from him for even five minutes? Show me the evidence. I need receipts.
I wrap my fingers around the still-too-hot mug, bringing it up under my nose so the herbs have a chance at calming my frayed nerves. “Looks like you’re staying, then.”
Things just got interesting.