Chapter Two
W ednesday morning, I’m on the couch enjoying a cup of coffee before my shift at the library while listening to Harlan Coben and Jasmine Guillory recommend books on the third hour of the Today show when the doorbell rings.
As per usual, Rocket loses his mind. He vaults from the couch, where he’s been snuggling at my side, and whips down the narrow foyer to the front door, jumping so high like he thinks he can climb over it into the hallway.
“Be right there,” I shout, hoping Adam can hear me over Rocket.
I assume it’s Adam since Marcia, who’s in the shower, said he’d be here sometime today.
For no reason whatsoever, I’d assumed she meant dinnertime.
I place my mug on the coffee table and stride to the front door, gently shooing Rocket out of the way so I can let Adam in.
Instead, I cast my eyes upon some other twentysomething white guy who can’t possibly be Adam because this guy is hot —like, I’m sure I’ve seen him in movie sex scenes with Margot Robbie or Zendaya hot .
His hair, which is somewhere between medium and dark brown with hints of red, is cut above his ears in the front and a little longer in the back.
His eyes, the shade of blue wheat, fall beneath full eyebrows, and a trace of stubble covers his flawless fair skin.
I tear my eyes away from his face and take in the rest of him.
Gone are the lanky shoulders of his early teenage years, replaced by ones that are broad without being at all Hulk-like.
He’s tall—although nearly everyone is tall compared to my measly five feet, one inch—and wearing a light-gray Henley under an unzipped black winter jacket—
“Does Marcia Haber live here?” he asks, interrupting my objectification to remind me he’s a human being, and I’m acting gross. His lips twitch.
My face burns like molten lava. “She does. Are you Adam?” As difficult as it is to reconcile that this man is the grown-up version of the awkward boy in the photo frame, it’s the only logical explanation for why he’s standing outside my door on the day Adam is expected to arrive.
“I am. I caught an early train this morning. Are you—”
Before he can complete the sentence, Rocket dashes through my legs and out into the hallway like a trapped demon out of the opened gates of hell. “Shit. Rocket!”
Our apartment is on one far end of the hallway, and by now a barking Rocket has already reached the other end and is on his way back, most certainly to repeat the lap again and again until he wears himself out sometime next year.
After sliding his dark-brown canvas messenger bag down his shoulder and placing it against the door, Adam squats. “Hey, Rocket. Come here, boy.”
Rocket freezes and watches Adam, who slaps his muscular—not that I noticed—thighs in a “come hither” motion.
“Good luck with that,” I mutter. There’s no way.
And yet, there is. Right before my eyes, Rocket sprints over to Adam, who rubs his brown ears while Rocket licks his face.
The display reminds me of those YouTube videos of soldiers returning from war and reuniting with a beloved dog for the first time in years.
Except Rocket is only two and it’s been much longer since Marcia’s seen Adam.
Adam seamlessly guides Rocket inside the apartment, dragging his blue suitcase, one shade darker than his eyes, behind him.
I pick up his messenger bag, which feels like it’s filled with boulders, and follow in awe.
We return to the living room at the same time Marcia exits her bedroom, running her fingers through her damp hair.
“Did Rocket get out again?” It takes a moment for her to realize we’re not alone, but when she notices Adam, her face breaks out into the hugest smile I’ve ever seen.
And this is saying a lot because Marcia is generally a very smiley person. “Adam!”
“Hi, Grandma.” Adam’s almost shy as he scrapes a hand through his hair.
“Come here!” Marcia doesn’t wait for him to act before heading his way and pulling him into a hug while I take the opportunity to release his heavy messenger bag from my shoulder as gracefully as I can, in case there’s a twelve-piece set of fragile dinnerware in there.
Observing the two, I can practically feel how tightly Marcia is squeezing from here, her arms stretched to reach around him, but before long, Adam sinks into it and hugs back just as hard. I nearly choke up.
When they separate, Marcia gives Adam the once-over of a loving grandmother.
“Look at you. You’re all grown up.” She shakes her head, clearly trying not to cry.
She proceeds to ask him a bunch of questions without letting him answer: “How was the train? Did you find the apartment okay? Are you hungry?”
I’m about to make a quiet exit to my room to give them some privacy when Marcia says, “Have you met Sabrina yet?”
“Sort of.” Adam faces me. “Hi again,” he says with a teasing glint in his blue eyes.
I guess it was too much to hope he’d forget my initial reaction to seeing him, but I pretend I have. “Thanks for dog-whispering Rocket before.”
Hearing his name, Rocket darts right over.
“Aw, he’s a good boy.” Adam kneels and grabs the chew toy from Rocket’s mouth, gently tossing it across the room.
When Rocket chases after it, he stands. “I actually am hungry. What’s your plan for today, Grandma?
Can I take you to breakfast? And if it’s not too cold, maybe you can show me around the neighborhood after? ”
Marcia’s face shimmers with joy. “I’m yours all day. Breakfast sounds great, but it’s on me. I have hundreds of meals to make up for.”
Adam grins. “The unemployed and broke grandson cannot argue with that logic.”
“It’s settled then,” Marcia says.
Adam turns to me. “Can you join us?”
My stomach flutters. A hot guy with manners. “I appreciate the invite, but I have work today.” I look between him and Marcia. “And I wouldn’t want to impose on your reunion.”
Marcia beams. “We can all have dinner later. Do you have time to give Adam a quick tour of the apartment before you leave? I need to dry my hair and make myself acceptable for public viewing.”
Adam and I say, “You’re gorgeous!” at the same time.
Marcia rolls her eyes. “You’ll get along well. You’re both full of crap.”
She returns to her room, and then it’s just me and Adam again. “She’s so excited you’re here,” I say.
Adam’s eyes soften. “I’m excited too. We have a lot to catch up on.”
My heart pulls, and I swallow hard. “Anyway… this is the living room. Obviously. The couch pulls out.” I point stupidly at the TV like I’m a host on HSN.
“The TV in here has Netflix, Apple TV Plus, Disney Plus, Hulu, Prime, Max, Peacock, Showtime. All the streaming you could possibly want. Except sports. Marcia doesn’t have ESPN or Yes or any of those.
” I’m babbling. “You saw the kitchen. It’s right when you walk in.
Marcia’s bedroom and bathroom are through the door she just entered, and mine is down there,” I say, pointing toward the far end of the living room.
We’ll share this bathroom right here,” I say, opening the door to my left.
Adam pops his head inside.
“Everything is off of the living room. Almost impossible to get lost.”
Adam cocks his head, his eyes sparkling again. “Almost?”
“Enough tequila, and I’d get lost in my own bed.”
“I hear you. One too many Jell-O shots and I’m…” He makes the “mind blown” gesture.
“J… Jell-O shots? Really?” I pegged him for more of a beer guy with absolutely zero basis for doing so.
“No.” He laughs and sets his suitcase to the side of the couch. “Oh shit, my other bag is still in the hallway.”
“I brought it in.” I motion to where I left it against the wall.
He blinks. “Thank you.”
The way he’s gazing at me with open curiosity is unnerving, though I can’t say I hate it. “What do you have in there anyway? Cement blocks?”
His lips quirk. “Something like that. My laptop and some books.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Books? You read?”
From his bemused expression, I suspect he thinks I just asked if he knows how to read. Before I can clarify, he says, “You’re not at all how I pictured, Sabrina.”
For some reason, hearing my name from his mouth sends my chest all aflutter.
He looks me up and down, but I can’t take offense because of how blatantly I did the same to him earlier.
Also, my desperately-in-need-of-exercise body is too busy sweating under his scrutiny to multitask emotions.
I’m in decent shape for the sole reason that I’m only twenty-four, as my fitness-obsessed older sister Audrina reminds me often. “No? How did you picture me?”
I try to see myself through his eyes. While he’s objectively hot, my petite frame, wavy shoulder-length golden-blond hair, and big brown eyes usually place me in the “cute” category. This is fine with me, since cute requires less maintenance than hot.
“Older. Much older.” His cheeks flush pink.
I touch my hair. “Oh. She didn’t tell you how we connected?”
Adam shakes his head, so I explain.
“My grandma looks great. I didn’t know she needed live-in help. What’s wrong? Is she okay?” He fires off questions in rapid succession.
He’s freaking out, which wasn’t my intention.
I instinctively lift my hand to provide physical comfort but lower it when I remember he’s a stranger to me.
Instead, I look him squarely in the eyes so he knows I’m being sincere.
“She absolutely does not need live-in help. She’s actually in great physical shape for someone her age.
I’m here to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.
And I help with other stuff, like getting her more online.
She had her own reasons for wanting a roommate my age, but I’ll let her explain. Okay?”
He nods, his shoulders dropping in visible relief. “You mentioned work. What do you do?”
“I’m a library page while working toward my MLIS.”
He nods approvingly. “Master’s in library and information science. You’re studying to be a librarian?”
My eyes widen. It’s rare when someone knows what the acronym stands for. “I am.”
“Do you love it?”
“I do. I have three more semesters including this one, but since I don’t take summers off, I’ll graduate in a year.”
Adam sits on the edge of the couch and studies me again. “What kinds of things are you learning?”
“Be careful what you wish for. I can literally talk about libraries all day, but…” A glance at my phone alerts me to the time. “Can we continue this later? If I have any shot at getting to work on time, I need to go.”
Adam winces. “Of course. Sorry to keep you.”
“No worries! It’s great to meet you and I’m looking forward to being your roomie.”
Adam smiles slowly. “Same.”
With a loud “Bye, Marcia!” I grin at Adam once more, grab my coat and bag, and head out.