Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Keri
Adam doesn’t say much as we eat our dinner around the small, wobbly table in the kitchen.
I bought some soda water and a six-pack of Mexican beer, grateful when he quietly chose beer, his shoulders loosening a fraction as he sipped.
The tension shadowing his face finally seemed to ease, but I could still feel a nervous weight pressing down on my chest. I kept glancing at him, almost willing him to confide in me.
Every time his phone buzzed with a message from Roxy, my anxiety spiked, twisting in my gut with fear that she was the cause of his sadness.
“This salsa is amazing,” he says, chomping on a heavily dipped chip.
I smile. “Best salsa around these parts. Mr. Garcia uses only fresh tomatoes grown at Jamison Farm. I can’t wait for you to meet him. I’ve known him my entire life. Taco Tuesday at his restaurant was a staple growing up. One of my dad’s favorites.”
He offers a slight nod and continues to eat. I take a small sip from my beer bottle, hoping for some liquid courage. I’m stunned when the words I’ve wanted to say finally leave my mouth. “Adam, tell me about Roxy. Is she the reason you left California?”
Shaking his head, he grabs a napkin from the middle of the table and swipes at his mouth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to meddle.”
“You’re not meddling. Roxy’s my cousin. We grew up together. Her dad was my mother’s brother. My Uncle Chip.”
I’m surprised. “Was?”
“Yeah. He died ten years ago.”
As sad as that is, I feel a strange mix of relief and guilt. My hands fidget as I admit, “I thought Roxy might be someone special because of all the phone calls and texts. But silly me thought she was a girlfriend, or maybe an an ex-wife. She’s certainly persistent.”
My comment makes him chuckle. “Yes, she is. Roxy is more like a tenacious little sister than a cousin to me.”
“Is she okay?” I know I’m crossing a line with all of my questions. But I want Adam to know he can trust me. That he can open up and tell me the reason why he’s been running for so long.
“She’s fine. She’s getting married in a month.”
I’m surprised. “Oh, how wonderful. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He leans his forearms on the table and forks the last bite of food into his mouth. I study the crease between his brows, my own mouth tightening in concern as I watch him chew. A heavy silence stretches between us.
“You don’t seem very happy about it.”
“I am happy for her. Like I said, Roxanne’s more like a sister to me than a cousin.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
Adam chews his food slowly, as if making up his mind to tell me more.
“All right.” He crumples his napkin and tosses it next to his empty plate.
“Roxy is the only person I’ve kept in touch with since I left California.
I don’t have any other siblings or cousins, and my parents have both passed away.
She’s it. We’ve had these weekly phone calls for two years, and every single time we talk, she begs me to come back home.
” He takes another swig of his beer. “I miss her. I do. When my Uncle Chip died, she made me promise that if she ever got married, I’d be the one to walk her down the aisle. ”
“I’m so sorry about your uncle. But how sweet of you to make that promise to her.” The earlier text message on Adam’s phone suddenly makes perfect sense.
“I remember it like it was yesterday.” He stares off into space as he recalls the memory.
“We were in my old Chevy, driving down to Santa Cruz for the day. I wanted to take her to the beach to get her mind off her dad’s funeral.
Roxy had her feet up on the dashboard, and I remember her hair smelling like coconut shampoo as it whipped in the wind with the windows down.
” He laughs to himself and blinks. “I don’t know why I just remembered that smell. ”
“Go on,” I say gently.
“We were singing along to Tom Petty on the radio. Gosh, she was so off-key and loud.”
I giggle as I watch a small smile lift one corner of his mouth.
“I also remember the smell of that day: salt water, hot asphalt, and cheap sunscreen. Roxy grabbed my hand over the gear shift and said to me, ‘Adam, you’re going to be the one to walk me down the aisle when I find the right guy and get married.’ I didn’t disagree.
I was willing to do just about anything to see her happy again.
” He pauses and rubs his hand across his stubble.
“I don’t remember much about my uncle’s funeral.
But the memory of that day going to the beach is so sharp, like it happened yesterday.
It’s very hard for me to even think about breaking her heart. ”
“It sounds like y’all are very close.”
“We are. We were.” He shrugs, the motion heavy, defeat written in the slump of his shoulders. “I don’t know anymore… the wedding is coming up fast.”
“So, are you going to do it? Are you going to keep your promise and go back to California and walk her down the aisle?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been back in two years.” His voice drops to a low murmur, raw uncertainty flickering in his eyes. “I’m not so sure I can ever go back.”
“Why, Adam? What happened that makes you not ever want to go back?” I implore.
His broad chest lifts in a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Keri. Can we shelve it for now and talk about it later?” A distant, hollow look settles in his eyes, as if he's remembering something far beyond the room we’re sitting in.
“That’s fine. But we will talk about it, right?” I hold my breath.
He swallows hard and nods, the weight of the world settling across his shoulders once again. “Yes. I promise.”
***
I left Adam and Molly on their own that night, promising to check in on them the next day.
Imagine my surprise when my phone calls went straight to voicemail, and my text messages went unanswered.
Instead of hopping in my car and directly confronting him, I decide to take a step back and give the man some space.
Room to breathe. To think clearly. He’s obviously got a ton on his mind, and I don’t want to be the kind of woman who incessantly haggles with him for answers.
By Monday morning, I’m back behind my polished veneer, sitting in my office and staring at the computer screen in front of me. I don’t know what else to do except work. The ball is in Adam’s court. He’ll have to reach out to me when he’s good and ready.
My mind drifts to snapshots of our time together.
We connected almost immediately. I love his gentle spirit.
His quiet soul. His smile makes me feel like time stops when he looks at me.
I know deep down he’s struggling with a certain loss.
What that is, I still don’t know. But I can feel his vibe.
His pain is heavy, and I fear we may be drifting apart before we’ve even started anything.
I wish I could check in on him. I hope he and Molly are okay. I wish he wasn’t carrying this burden in silence.
Being at the Lavender Festival together felt like a scene out of a movie, just the two of us, the dog, and the purple fields.
I remember thinking this could be the start of something real.
We shared stories, our bond feeling like something more than just attraction.
His charm matches my energy beautifully.
I want more shared moments, laughter, and quiet walks with him.
I recognize something unique in Adam that could potentially define the next chapter of my life.
Or maybe I’m being totally delusional and only imagined there was something blossoming between us.
My email suddenly pings with an incoming message. I sigh and shift into work mode, clicking on the link. I blink back at the multiple images popping up on my computer screen.
They’re photographs. Of me.
My mouth drops open as I scroll, heart thumping with disbelief and pride.
Each soft, dreamy picture is a revelation.
These are not simply photos, but glimpses into something gentler, more hopeful inside me.
Adam was right. The lavender fields, the flowing fabric of my dress, and the careful way he captured me brought out a romantic vulnerability I didn’t know I could show.
I study the images, my breath catching. I am radiant, bathed in an ethereal glow.
This artist didn’t just transform my look; he let me see myself with fresh, softened eyes.
No more stiff stock-photo grins or forced beauty-queen smiles.
I appear approachable, warm, and sincerely ready to welcome a neighbor.
I can’t help but think: yes, I trust her.
I’d buy property from this smiling, genuine woman in the picture.
“Oh, my goodness,” I mumble, floored by his talent.
My phone dings with a text message, and I’m tempted to ignore it, transfixed by the images in front of me. I sneak a glance and realize it’s Adam. My fingers fumble as I quickly click the screen to read what it says.
Come to the house after work, at dusk. I have a surprise for you. Don’t dress up.
I type back a reply with my top teeth pressed into my lips to thwart off a smile. Can you give me a little hint?
No.
Why not?
Trust me, Angel Face.
I snort-laugh out loud. For some reason, I like it when he calls me by my high school nickname.
Come on. One little clue.
I wait, tapping my heeled foot against the wooden floorboards, my tummy pooling with heat. I scowl when a full minute goes by without a response.
Please?
That one word seems to do the trick, and I can see the little text bubble percolating with a reply. I hold my breath.
He sends me three emojis: a tent, a fishing pole, and a fire emoji. My grin is instant.
Adam Woodbury is taking me camping.