Chapter 10
Chapter
When Adam walks through the front door he’s dressed differently from when I saw him at Alden.
He has on these army green pants with sneakers and a gray sweatshirt.
There’s a large pumpkin under his arm with two smaller ones between his fingers.
The fact that a casual outfit is piquing my interest is mildly concerning.
“Oh, you’re home,” I say out of habit. This is not our home.
“That’s always a nice thing to hear when you walk through the door,” he says as he sets down the pumpkins on the bench by the entryway.
“What are those for?” I ask, ignoring him.
“We’re the only house on the block without any decorations.”
“Oh,” I say, and pick one up and analyze it. “It’s kind of a waste, though.”
“A waste?” He frowns.
“Yeah, I mean we won’t even be here on Halloween.”
“I was just going to set them out,” he sighs. “I wasn’t going to carve a jack-o’-lantern.”
I shift from one leg to the other. “Are you doing this on purpose or something?”
“Am I…decorating the house? Yes, June.”
“Making me feel like an asshole,” I correct him.
“I’m not doing anything,” he says as he takes the pumpkin out of my hands. “I wonder why you feel that way,” he says flatly.
I snort.
He tilts his head.
We’re now caught in this duel that consists of squinting and head-shaking and I’m pretty sure I’m losing.
“Were you going to tell me?” I say, and his eyebrows raise in response. “About Alden?”
“I told you.” He kicks off his shoes and heads to the kitchen.
“You said you worked there.” I follow him. “As a chef.”
“You assumed I was a chef,” he says, not looking back.
“You didn’t say you own it.”
“I would’ve,” he says.
My brain searches for something to say. What do you say to someone who has accomplished everything they’ve ever wanted?
“Congratulations,” I say. It’s probably the first nice thing I’ve said this whole week, but I meanit.
His lips twitch.
“Thanks, June,” he says sincerely.
“And how do you know Dan?” I ask.
“I don’t really know him. ” He sets his phone down and pours himself a glass of water. “He’s come in a few times, and we were once invited to the same dinner party. But I’m familiar with him through his work.”
“Because you support the arts ?” I ask, remembering the words Dan used.
He nods and doesn’t seem surprised that I know. “Yeah.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Alden usually sponsors any theater-aligned missions.”
“Like, investing in Broadway shows?” I ask.
“Just donating,” he says, and takes a sip from his glass.
“Oh…” I’m not sure why this information bothers me. “Since when?”
“Since I could afford to,” he says.
“Why did you hide that from me?” I genuinely ask.
He frowns. “I didn’t hide it from you, June.”
“Well, you never told me…”
“You never asked,” he says, and I know he’s playing my game. “Are you mad that I support the arts?”
“I’m not mad!” I say a little too loudly, negating my point. I lower my voice. “I just think it’s weird. Wouldn’t you want to know if I was, I don’t know…giving money to restaurants or something?”
“I would know if you were,” he says as if my scenario is unheard of. “And I think that’s why you’re so bothered.”
“What are you talking about?” I shake my head.
“That you’re so far removed from this world that you didn’t know.”
My throat squeezes and I look away. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you,” he says calmly.
“You still should have told me,” I insist. Of all the things that have happened this week, this current topic is the least of my problems. Yet I can’t stop pressing Adam.
“And when would I have done that?” He turns to me, a sharp edge to his voice.
“You haven’t bothered to talk to me, or so much as look at me, since we’ve been here.
Excuse me if I didn’t feel it was appropriate to tell you, unsolicited, about my life,” he says, and my neck becomes hot.
Not because I’m mad, but because he’s right.
“You know, you’re not the only one this is difficult for, June,” he says in response to my silence, and I know we’re no longer talking about business.
I’ve been so focused on me that I’ve failed to acknowledge that maybe Adam doesn’t want to be doing this…and that I’m not making it any easier.
“Can we just forget it?” I say when he turns to place his glass in the sink.
“What part?”
“All of it,” I say, so quietly I can barely hear myself.
“You don’t think I’ve tried?” he says, and then walks pastme.
Defeated, I put the kettle on to make myself a cup of tea. I’m sitting at the kitchen island when Adam walks back in, swiftly opens a drawer, and pulls out a butcher’s knife.
“Really?” I squint. “You’re that mad?”
“It’s for the pumpkins…” Adam deadpans.
“I thought you weren’t going to carve a jack-o’-lantern, ” I say, mimicking him.
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” Adam’s nostrils flare as he walks out.
The kettle whistles and when I turn it off, I notice my phone light up on the counter. Leaning over, I tap the screen to view the message.
Kelsey
Adam I’m soaked
My stomach drops. This is not my phone.
My cheeks suddenly become flush and I whip my head around to see if Adam’s behind me. Suddenly another notification appears.
Kelsey
Get over here
This is fine. This is totally normal. This is just a harmless text that I wasn’t supposed to see. It’s also typical Adam to have his messages show a preview when his phone is locked. I quickly tap the screen again and reread the words.
Adam I’m soaked
Get over here
This is simply a message from a female acquaintance of Adam’s. It’s just a message from someone who needs him to get over there. Someone who clearly isn’t opposed to sexting. Someone who’s apparently—
“SOAKED?!” I say out loud. “Really?”
A very explicit image comes to mind of whoever Kelsey is—probably a standard influencer type—standing, hair disheveled, underwear pushed down to her ankles, and holding up two vibrators, just waiting to get railed.
Of course Adam’s seeing someone…at the very least, hooking up with someone.
I don’t know why I thought he wouldn’t be.
This is Adam. The same Adam who at some point in our lives always had a date on his night off.
Whenever we went out, there would be at least one person doing a double take because his presence is just that magnetic.
Even middle-aged women at the grocery store seemed flustered when he made small talk at the checkout line.
It stings to find out this way, but I’m not surprised Adam didn’t tell me about his personal life. It’s not like I’ve been the best conversationalist this past week. Besides, Adam can do whatever he wants, with whomever he wants.
“Did I leave my phone here?” Adam’s voice says behind me, and it causes me to jump.
“W-What? I-I don’t know,” I stammer.
He checks his phone on the counter and I swear I forget how to breathe. I intently watch his face as he reads his messages. I notice his throat bob and the sharp inhale he takes. Kelsey probably sent another text of her soaked sheets, begging for him to do something aboutit.
“I, uh, I have to go,” he says as he puts his phone in his back pocket.
“Everything okay?” My voice cracks as I look anywhere but at him.
“Yeah, it’s, uh, a work thing,” he says. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”
“All good,” I say, still avoiding eye contact.
Before I know it, he’s gone.
So what if Adam’s involved with someone else? These texts don’t change anything. Why would they?
The next day I hear a knock and rush to the door.
I swing it open and Chloe and I simultaneously scream and collide on the front stoop into an uncomfortable hug, but neither one of us lets go.
An uncontrollable sob comes out of me, and I wipe a tear from my eye.
I’ve missed her, but it’s not until I can feel and see her in front of me, in this house of all places, that I realize just how much.
It’s not that I haven’t made friends in LA. Considering how hard it is to make friends as an adult, I’m grateful for Shivani and Zach. But the bond that Chloe and I have is unmatched.
“I can’t believe you’re actually here!” She grips my arms, staring at me to make sure I’m real.
“ You can’t believe it?” I say.
“You look amazing.” She gently touches my hair. “I told you your natural hair looks so good. ”
“Thanks, it’s more laziness than anything. Glad it’s working to my advantage,” I say with a laugh. “But look at you— what are you, a partner or something?”
Chloe places the top of her hand under her chin and flashes me a shit-eating grin.
The girl who used to work part-time at Forever 21 is now a law firm partner who holds a level of authority I couldn’t even imagine being responsible for.
I eye her perfectly fitted denim jumpsuit.
Her dark skin is looking clear as glass with not an ounce of makeup on except a deep red lip oil, and her thick hair has been filled with blond highlights since I saw her last.
I push the door open behind me, and when she steps inside her eyes go wide.
“Wait…what happened to this place? It’s gorgeous!”
“It got renovated after we left,” I say as I follow her.
“Yeah, no shit.” She walks around the foyer, peeking her head into the different rooms. In typical Chloe fashion, she kicks off her heels and makes herself at home by sitting on the couch. “Okay, so tell me everything.”
“Well…” I take a seat next to her, unsure how to start. “I own this house.” The sides of my mouth curl up into a fake smile.
Her neck stretches out to me, confused. “Girl…”
“I’m serious.”
“What do you mean you own this house?”
“I guess technically not yet, ” I say. “But in twenty-five days, I will.”
“Did you win the lottery?”
“Chloe.” I stifle a laugh.
“I’m serious!” she says. “Because there’s no way in hell you’re telling me you own this house right now.”
“Mr. Hill passed away.” I look down and explain the situation. “His will stated that whoever lived in the house last inherits it.”