Chapter 18 EVE
Chapter eighteen
EVE
The warmth of his words linger in my chest. The warmth of his hand lingers against my skin.
One night, I said. I shouldn’t still feel him on my lips.
I know exactly what happens when I cross that line. I vanish. That’s why I can’t. I can’t risk everything again.
Great, now I sound like I’m narrating my own Hallmark movie. Cue the Christmas music and falling snow. I should have brought Dickle with me. At least my emotional support pickle doesn’t make my clinical brain short circuit.
I know what I need to do: Retreat. Reorganize. Survive.
So what if I’ve read books and seen movies where everything changes in less than twenty-four hours?
The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight. One Fine Day…
Speed.
But this isn’t a movie or a book. I don’t fall in love in twenty-four hours.
Or nine years and twenty-four hours in our case.
I don’t.
But damn it, I liked AdamWoof back when he was nothing more than a deep voice in the dark. Now he seems stronger, sexier, funnier.
I sip my decaf to-go coffee, the vanilla creamer sweet taste grounding me.
Bite into the caramel scone Sally handed me out when I left.
But as I stare at the clinic on the other side of the street, all decorated for Christmas, my chest tightens and I can’t even check my pulse to make sure my heart isn’t racing.
I finish the delicious scone and toss the wrapper in the reindeer-decorated trashcan because Pine Creek is living the Christmas small-town dream. I hear whispers as parents pass with their kids, “She’s from Chicago… and she knows Adam. Can you believe that?”
The sensation behind my ribs could be categorized as “painful.”
I can do this.
This is a job. I’m good at my job. No matter what Chuck said.
I can do the job.
“Eve!”
I blink, realizing I’ve been standing in the same place for way too long.
Sally charges toward me, wearing a Santa hat and reindeer scarf, waving a book above her head.
“Margaret’s coming by for lunch! Give her this. It’s that mafia book you’re reading.”
I freeze. “Margaret? Who? What? How did you—”
“Small town, dear. Plus, your Kobo was open when you grabbed a creamer.” She winks. “Margaret is Adam’s Mom.”
I take it, nearly dropping it when I see the cover. Dante’s Secrets. The very beautiful physical copy of the very smutty book currently living in my Kobo’s Not Real Life folder and my Libro.fm app. The same book that I punched my car radio for yesterday when it kept playing the best part for Adam.
“Hm. Ugh, it’s really… pretty.” Hot. Sexy. Breathtaking. Kind? The book. I’m thinking about the book. Books can be kind.
“It’s the Kickstarter edition. Sprayed edges, foiled cover, with inserts.”
My fingers trace the foiled cover the same way I traced Adam’s hard abs, hard everything last night, his skin warm under my fingertips as he growled my name against my throat. Right before making me come so loudly I’m surprised Sally didn’t come to check on us.
Oh God. What if she did?
I bite the inside of my cheek, totally not losing my composure. On Dante’s (completely inferior) abs, there’s a hot pink Post-it:
“According to my calculations, this hero’s anatomy is the size of the prize-winning zucchini from last year’s county fair. P.S. Also, if a man ‘growls’ this many times during sex, he needs either an ENT or an exorcist.”
Sally continues, “You definitely should join the book club.”
Nope. Not discussing romance novels with Adam’s mom. Not discussing the perfect “growl” with Adam’s mom. Not discussing size with Adam’s mom. Nope. Nope. Definitely not.
“I’m, um, going to be busy.”
“You don’t know when it is, dear,” Sally replies with a smile.
“I’ll see you later at the B Jennie's smile doesn't reach her eyes.
Claire
Her parents convinced her to come home for the holidays to 'think things through.' Chuck sounded desperate on the phone. Not like him.
My fingers tremble slightly. Chuck losing control? This sounds more… intense. During our marriage, his manipulation was always cold.
Claire
He's been asking where you're working and if you're seeing anyone. Claims it's for 'insurance paperwork.'
The thought of Chuck tracking me has me holding my breath as I text back, crossing my fingers Jennie's realized he's an asshat.
“Eve Foster,” a calm, raspy voice calls my name and I exhale slowly, glancing up from my notes. “I hear you have a book for me.”
Oh great, Adam’s Mom is here for her Spicy Mafia Romance with the zucchini.
“I do.” I clear my throat. “Sally…”
“Sally is trying to make sure we meet,” Adam’s Mom tells me. “Actually, let’s be real… I was going to pass by during lunch. It’s lovely meeting you, dear. I’m Margaret.”