25. Chapter 25
Chapter twenty-five
Sam
The stillness of night is interrupted by the patio door sliding open behind me.
Danae wordlessly takes a seat on the chair next to mine, propping her feet on the table I’m using as a footstool.
We stare up at the stars for a minute before she says, “Thanks for planning this. It’s been the perfect break from the stress of moving our stuff to the house plus wedding week. ”
Smiling to myself, I say, “That’s exactly what I wanted it to be. Anxious about anything in particular for the wedding?”
Danae gives me a wry look. “You’re asking if I feel anxious about anything?”
Laughing, I repeat, “I said anything in particular.”
She huffs a laugh and replies, “We’ve planned so thoroughly, I think everything is going to run smoothly.
I’m nervous about what the dynamic is going to be with my parents.
But there’s no way around that. So getting away for a couple days of rest and reading was the perfect way to stop myself from obsessing over it. ”
There’s a smile in her voice when she adds, “Rest, reading, and watching you watch Adrian playing in the All-Star game.”
My cheeks heat, but I shrug my hands in the air. “It’s not like I can help it that he’s fun to watch. And played an amazing game.” When Danae gives me a pointed look, I add, “And looked really good while doing it.”
We laugh before returning our gaze to the sky. Danae’s voice is gentle when she asks, “How are you doing with the relationship?”
It’s an open-ended question that could have an hours-long answer. I deflect. “This week is all about you, my dear almost sister-in-law. Let’s focus on you and Griff, not me and Adrian.”
“I can focus on both,” Danae says. “Tell me how you’re doing.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I mull over my answer.
“I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than I do when we’re together.
I love every second of time I spend with Adrian.
I’m being intentional to schedule lots of seconds away from him also, but I’d be lying if I said I’m not thinking about him almost every second.
” Peering over to Danae, I ask, “Is that bad, you think?”
She shakes her head. “Sounds pretty normal for a new relationship.”
Looking straight ahead, I watch my feet as I tap my bare toes together.
“What in particular is making you anxious?” Danae prods.
I focus on the sound of crickets chirping, on the breeze sighing through the trees, on the faint murmur of voices inside the house.
Humming slightly, I finally answer, “I’m always a little worried that Adrian is too good to be true for me.
That being with me and my baggage is holding him down from something better. Someone better for him.”
Danae doesn’t immediately contradict me, although I can sense she’s ready to. She gives me more time to finish my thought.
“I like him so much,” I say, sighing deeply. “What if I hold on too tightly to him because it’s what I want even if it ultimately stifles him?”
My insecurity hangs in the air, pulsing in the darkness.
Danae reaches her hand over and squeezes mine before answering.
“I’ve sat through enough therapy sessions with Jason to understand where that insecurity is coming from, Samantha.
So I’m not just dismissing your fears when I tell you that you’re wrong.
You’re not an anchor weighing Adrian down.
I think you’re the anchor he needs centering him in his wild life.
The anchor he wants. Don’t forget that he’s the one who initiated this relationship after years of friendship.
And since you started dating, he’s been even happier than his typical baseline happiness and playing even better baseball than his typical baseline greatness.
You’re not weighing him down, and you’re not stifling him. ”
I blink away tears as I lean my head back, watching the lights of an airplane glide across the stars.
“I understand that you still need to be somewhat guarded,” Danae says. “But don’t you dare let yourself think that you don’t deserve to be with Adrian. You’re not a burden, Samantha. Never.”
Unable to speak, I reach a hand over and squeeze Danae’s twice in a silent thank you.
Even though I enjoyed the time with Danae and her closest friends on our reading retreat, I’m aching to see Adrian in person. Thankfully, I’m a few minutes away from hugging him for the first time in six days.
It’s wedding rehearsal day, and I spent all of last night and this morning with Danae and Griffin at the house making last-minute preparations and directing the workers setting up the tent and chairs. Everything was looking perfect, so I went home to my apartment to shower and get myself ready.
It’s a good thing I had plenty of time to spare because Adrian called and begged me to come over to his house to help him finalize his outfit. It’s a flimsy excuse to see me before being surrounded by my entire family. And I’m absolutely validating the excuse, no questions asked.
After entering the security code I have memorized and winding through the neighborhood streets that now feel familiar, I pull into Adrian’s driveway. I love how second nature this drive has become. How easy it is to picture driving here every day.
Slow down. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
My cautionary self-talk flies out the window when Adrian opens the front door and practically runs down the walkway to meet me at my car.
He opens my car door, offers his hand to help me stand, then raises our clasped hands to twirl me around, giving a slow whistle of appreciation.
I chose a strapless periwinkle-blue dress with low heels and simple silver jewelry for today’s occasion.
As I complete my full spin, Adrian tugs my hand and says, “Hold on. I might have nosy neighbors.” We jog up the walkway, and he pulls me through the front door. After closing it, he says, “Take two.”
I giggle as he twirls me a second time, repeating his whistle. This time, he smoothly places my hand on his shoulder as he leans down, breathing in deeply against my curled hair before brushing a kiss to the place where my neck and shoulder meet.
I nearly die.
The desire—no, need—to kiss him for real is becoming unbearable. I’m starting to regret agreeing to him “properly wooing me” before kissing.
He wraps his arms around my waist and murmurs, “I’ve missed you so much, cielo.”
Sighing into him, I echo, “I missed you too.” I play with the curls at the nape of his neck, and he pulls me tighter against him. Trying to remain cognizant of the time so we aren’t late to the rehearsal I’m running, I loosen my arms and press a kiss to his cheek.
His brown eyes look almost black when I take a half step away. “This dress is beautiful on you,” he says.
I take in his half-finished outfit of white chino pants and a white button up, then reply, “We’d better get you whipped into shape, then, if you’re going to be my date.”
He snickers and takes my hand as we walk to his bedroom, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor.
There’s a pale-blue plaid sport coat on the bed, which he picks up and puts on.
He secures one button and does a quick spin move to show off the completed look.
Holding both hands out to his sides, he asks, “What do you think?”
I mimic his low whistle, which makes him grin and showboat even more. “I love it,” I say seriously.
Adrian moves to the attached bathroom to check his reflection. He clucks his tongue and points to the back of his head, where some of the meticulous curls are slightly mussed. “You and your wandering hands messed up my hair style.”
With a fiery smirk, I say, “You liked it, and you know it.”
“I absolutely know it,” he agrees with similar fire.
“Admit that you didn’t need my help at all. This was all just an excuse to see me,” I demand airily.
“That is completely false,” he says, feigning offense. “I need you to go pick out which chain I should wear with this outfit. Maybe a silver one, since that’s what you’re wearing.” He runs water over his fingers to fix the spirals of his longer curls, so I follow his directions.
At least, I start to.
As I walk toward his open closet door, curiosity gets the best of me. Did he really leave the second closet empty, or does he have a secret stash of extra shoes and hats in there?
Glancing over my shoulder to confirm that Adrian is looking at the mirror and not at me, I tiptoe to the closed door, push it open a crack, and flip the light switch as I poke my head inside.
It is empty.
Almost.
My lungs stall when I recognize the dress I wore to the gala hanging up at the back of the closet.
With numb steps, I walk forward and finger the beadwork on the dress, recalling the night I wore it.
The night that woke me up to my own feelings.
I take the hanger down from the rack, staring at the dress as if in a trance.
“Sam?” Adrian’s voice calls from the room, and there’s no time for me to hide my location. I whirl around right as Adrian steps into the closet. He looks at me, the dress in my hands, back at me. He holds my gaze as he slides across the few feet to where I’m frozen at the back of the closet.
“Why do you have this?” I ask, my voice small.
His voice isn’t small—it’s full of certainty when he says, “The day after the gala, I called the store and asked them to ship the dress to my house and change the charge on my card from the rental fee to the purchase price. After the way you looked in this dress that night, there was no way I could let it be something you never wore again.”
“But we hadn’t even talked yet,” I reason to myself, “when you called the store.”
Adrian shrugs one shoulder. He cocks his head to the side and asks, “What were you doing in here?”
Licking my lips, I confess, “I wanted to see if it was really empty. Or if you were hiding a secret second wardrobe.”
Adrian’s eyes blaze with intensity as he looks at me. Without breaking eye contact, he takes the hanger from my hands and extends his arm to hang the dress back on the rod. His voice is low, heated, when he says, “I told you. This closet is reserved.”
I can’t breathe. But not in an “I’m panicking for oxygen” type of way—in a “the world has stopped and breathing is no longer necessary” way.
Adrian’s gaze sears into mine, and I look down at his chest, reaching up to finger the lapel of his suit jacket.
When I return my eyes to his, I find him watching me, completely still.
Flattening my hand, allowing my palm to glide from his lapel up the span of his chest, sliding around his neck to thread my fingers through the curls he just fixed, I lean onto my toes in an invitation.
Adrian immediately accepts, leaning the rest of the way to meet my lips. His left hand winds around my waist to my back, pressing me close as his right hand cups my face. Despite the yearning I feel in his grip on my back, his lips are gentle, kissing me with an almost holy tenderness.
His touch retreats, as though to assess how I’m feeling about this step forward in our relationship.
I’m feeling very much like not retreating from this moment.
I make those feelings clear by tightening my grip on his neck and tilting my head to the side.
Adrian accepts this new invitation to deepen our kiss, and he steps closer to me, throwing me off-balance in my heels.
I trip backward, but Adrian holds fast to my waist and throws up his other hand to catch our momentum on the back wall.
He carefully eases my back to rest against it, his lips never leaving mine. Returning his hand to the back of my head, he traces my cheekbone with his thumb as he kisses me. Kisses me like he’s been denied the one thing he’s wanted and finally has it.
Me.
It’s only when we’re both desperate for air that Adrian eases his lips away, resting his forehead against mine. Once I’ve inhaled enough deep breaths to have coherent thoughts again, I look into his eyes. I could drown in the pool of affection there, and it sends a pleasant pang through my core.
“What does cielo mean?” I whisper.
With his hand still cupping the back of my head, Adrian leans away slightly, bringing his full face into focus. If he’s as drunk from that kiss as I am, this might be the moment I can finally pry the translation out of him.
“Cielo. What does it mean when you call me that?”
He exhales slowly, looking at my eyes, my hair, my lips, my neck, and back to my eyes as one corner of his lips hitches in a soft smile.
His fingers gently scratch the back of my head, hypnotizing me.
“It’s a common term of endearment in Spanish,” he explains, his voice low, quiet.
“But literally translated, it means heaven. Because you are.”
Heaven.
My eyes fill with tears, blurring my view of Adrian’s face. I blink over and over again, trying to bring him back into focus. Trying to process what he’s been calling me this whole time. Ever since that night I kicked him under the table after he gave me his sushi.
He fed me the word to playfully call him “dummy,” all the while calling me “heaven.”
Overwhelmed, my chin quivers, and I bite my cheek to stem the tremble.
Adrian gently kisses my forehead, then pulls my head against his chest, my face tucked into the crook of his neck. His left hand rubs up and down my back as I cling to him, as I breathe him in, trying to ground myself in the reality of how he feels about me. How I feel about him.
I’m afraid I might be getting swept away. This definitely isn’t wading anymore—I’m underwater in the ocean of feelings when I’m with Adrian.
Maybe I should be more cautious. Maybe I’m slipping back into the same old patterns that I never fully broke, only avoided. I don’t really trust myself to know.
But when the way I feel with him feels so much like love—real, genuine love—how am I supposed to willingly swim away from the ocean’s undertow?
Would it be so bad to drown here?
Would it even be drowning?
Even if it is, I think I’ve lost the will to swim against the current. And maybe I’m sinking.
But maybe I’ve found someone who helps me breathe underwater.