22
Don’t! Don’t do it!
“Suze, are you alright?” Megan asks again.
Because I’m staring at her, frozen like a human glitch in the matrix. I’m not sure I’m even blinking.
Because I want to tell her the truth so badly.
Adam is here, but he’s not. He’s touching me more and more, hugging me longer, texting me more often, kissing the top of my head. He didn’t hide the fact that he looked me over when he arrived and found me adjusting some decor near the desert table. He took his time studying me head to toe, appreciating my two tone black and red cocktail dress and sexy black pumps. He even looked me in the eyes and bit his lip.
Bit his lip!
Then hugged me tight, letting his hand travel south again like he has a couple times before.
It all feels very charged.
And very real.
But then as we walked around to mingle, even when we danced one slow song, he’s been looking around at the ceiling, glancing over my shoulder or above my head, like he’s annoyed and bored.
I just don’t know how much more of this I can take!
Which is why I want to blurt to Megan that my life is a sham and I’ve fallen deeply in love with a man who would rather disown his family and his entire giant inheritance than truly be with me.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just not feeling well. I think maybe I shouldn’t have had the shrimp.” I put a hand over my middle. I don’t even feel guilty, because I’m not lying. My stomach is truly in knots here.
We exit the bathroom and make our way back to the corner pub tables where my sisters, Shep and his brother, some of my extended family, Adam’s family and a few of our closest friends and employees have gathered.
Once I reach Adam’s vicinity, he reaches for me, pulling me hard into his side. He kisses the side of my head like he did earlier tonight. Every time his lips touch my skin it takes effort for me not to show my surprise.
“Want another drink?” He asks.
“No thanks,” I say, sounding winded.
“Don’t eat the shrimp guys, Susan’s going down.” Megan announces.
Adam twists me, putting his hands on my hips and studying my face. I look up at him and I die.
I die at how handsome he is in his suit, I die at the concern on his face. Either this man has become an Oscar-level actor or he has really started to care about my well being.
Of course, friends care about each other.
He’s just being a friend, Susan.
“What’s wrong?” He asks.
“Just not feeling well, it’s nothing.”
He flexes his hands on my sides. “Want me to take you home?”
“No way!” Sadie says from across the little table. “She helped plan out this whole party! It’s your favorite, Suze, you can’t leave.”
“Yeah, actually, I want to go.” I say, meaning it. My little sister isn’t wrong. I did plan a lot of the party for Dad this year and I normally love this event. But my heart just can’t take much more of this squeezing, this confusion.
“All right,” Adam says, then like a man on a mission he leads me out. But before we get to the lobby he takes a sharp turn. “I gotta hit the restroom first.”
“Oh, Okay.” I say, wondering if he knows there’s a set of bathrooms right by the entrance.
“Just wait a sec, I’ll be right back.” He says then he almost runs to the men’s room.
Weird. Like I’m not going to wait for him?
I turn and look out at the party, feeling triumphant and tired at the same time. I check all the stations, the meat carving was a hit, the desserts are picked over, there’s a line at the Photo Booth and the—
Oh no. I’m standing in the center of the Kissmas station. Crap! Adam is going to think I set him up to kiss me but I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I start to move but stupid me, making the kissmass “booth” a whole square section of ceiling covered in mistletoe and twinkle lights. If I can just get out of this walkway…
Clink Clink Clink
The crowd nearby knows to tap their forks on their glasses if a couple is caught in the taped off square. But I’m just here by myself, who are they cheering?
I turn just as Adam reaches me, stepping into my personal space like a man with tunnel vision. I don’t even see him as much as I feel his hands on either side of my face, pulling me in. And he…
His...
His lips crush mine, sure and hot and soft and I can’t help it, I melt into his touch.
He holds me, moving one hand quickly from my neck to my back and instead of letting me go, giving the audience a quick kiss like on the tennis court, instead…
He groans.
I groan back as he opens his mouth, teasing with barely open kisses, at my lips, sucking, asking. He adjusts my head, tilting so I can open up for him and I do. I let him overtake me. He isn’t kissing me now, he’s devouring me whole, with long, deep thrusts of his tongue and more groans that make my knees falter.
It goes on and on and blissfully on until we hear Shep, a lone voice because the clinking and cheering has died down, yell out “Okay, it’s getting gross now!”
Adam pulls away slowly.
I smile up at him, not sure what I will see on his face. Ah, a frown, as always. His lips are parted, in surprise maybe? Mostly he is studying me like only he can, serious.
But everyone is staring and more than one throat has been awkwardly cleared nearby. So I take charge, turning to the crowd and pretending to swoon, saying “Whew!”
Everyone erupts in more cheers and laughter.
Except for Adam.
He’s not laughing.
I fan myself, which the crowd loves even more, and then lead a frozen, angry Adam by the hand out of the venue. Once we’re outside, I drop his hand and he pauses with an exhale, reminding me of a bull ready to charge. I try to sound casual, try to hide how my mind is spinning.
“That was good, good job. She’s a beaut, Clark! ” I tell him, popping off Christmas Vacation like I have a nervous tic.
“Good job?” He grinds out the words.
“Yeah, I mean, the crowd loved it. I’m sure your dad is pleased. My dad too.”
Adam clears his throat. “Yeah, yeah, my dad.”
I can’t seem to catch my breath or slow my pulse. My lips are still tingling…as are other parts of me. But I can feel my heart splintering into tiny pieces. Pieces that wish they didn’t know how delicious Adam tastes, didn’t know how good it feels to have his hand on my neck, his groans in my throat.
I can’t get a grip on reality, so I throw a grenade into any hopes the kiss might have caused. I force myself to remember our situation.
“So, what’s the latest from your uncle? How much longer do we have to, you know, do stuff like that?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, but Adam’s shoulders settle, like he’s remembering his out. And he’s relieved by the thought—that this will all be over soon.
“Good, his lawyers think they found a couple loopholes.”
“Oh, really?”
He nods once, looking out into the night. “Just need to make sure you’re covered. I know your dad is in a tight spot.”
“Y-yes, thank you.”
“I’ll go get the car,” he starts, but I stop him. I can’t be stuck in a car with him without blurting out all my thoughts and demanding he explain himself.
Why the texting, the hugs, the concern for me? Was that kiss real? Why is everything starting to feel real if you’re still working on contracts with your uncle? What do you really want?
“Actually,” I say loudly, stopping him in his tracks, “I don’t think I want to go home anymore.”
“K, You want to stay?”
I sigh, “No, not really.”
“Want to go to my house? No one is there, we could use the theater room. Or indoor pool. Or I could kick your ass in the arcade. Redeem myself from thanksgiving.”
“Arcade? You never gave me the full tour. Your parents’ house sounds like a freaking circus.”
“C’mon then, I’ll show you.”
“Okay.” I say, curious. “You don’t have other stuff to do?”
“Stuff?” He raises one brow. “I’m supposed to be hanging out with you tonight. It was on your official holiday calendar.”
“An itinerary is not the same thing as a—” I stop myself when I spot his smirk, realizing I took the bait. “Ugh! Let’s just go.”
He almost chuckles as he grabs my hand and leads me to his truck.
_____
I take a breath and brace myself. Like behind this door lies the real Adam and all his deep dark secrets. But he didn’t show me this room, or much else, over Thanksgiving, so it feels different now. Like the last few weeks have changed him, changed us.
Susan, no. Stop! It’s just his childhood bedroom, not his diary.
He leads me into a large bedroom, clearly professionally decorated. Furniture and bedding in grays and neutrals make all the red OU memorabilia stand out along the walls. There are typical boy things, a shelf of trophies and medals, a basketball hoop over one door, a mini dart board. It feels very stereotypical. Not very Adam, for some reason.
“What?” Adam says, seeing my thoughts on my face, I guess.
“Where are all your weird kid things? Family photos? Collected little tchotchkes? Or did your mom redo this room after high school?”
“No, this is pretty much how it’s always been. But my mom didn’t do it, she hired a decorator.”
“Of course,” I snort. This mansion and its rooms and its decor remind me that the Bell family is in a different tax bracket, tax stratosphere, than my family.
“Are those tchotchkes?” He asks, pointing to something high up, behind me.
I turn and look to see a long floating shelf stuffed full of wood work. They start simple on the left side, a wooden OU, a pen holder I think I also made in middle school, but get more intricate. A wooden plane, a little carved bear, even a globe. Many other pieces of varying shapes and sizes that would take me a long time to sort through and appreciate.
“No, those are art. You did all of these?” I say, marveling.
“Yeah, after sixth grade shop class I got kind of obsessed. Would draw something and then carve it.”
I pull my eyes from the gorgeous pieces to him. I know my mouth is hanging open but I can’t seem to shut it. Adam Bell thoroughly surprises me once again.
“Do you still make them?” I finally ask.
“Eh, not much. Sometimes in the summer or over breaks.”
I keep searching with my eyes, looking for treasures. I see a lion and lamb figurine, a cross, a trophy, a little fishing boat. The details are pretty amazing.
“Do you have, like, a shop here in the garage or something?”
“My uncle does. I made him one horse and then he went nuts, bought all the equipment he could find and set it up in one of his barns.”
“Wow. You guys really are close, huh?”
Adam shrugs.
There’s a shift in the air at the mention of his uncle. But I want to know more about his favorite person.
“What’s he like?”
He grins. “Crazy. Smart…Free, fun, loyal…really everything my family isn’t.”
“Dang. How often do you get to see him?”
“Not as much now. Used to be summers and all school breaks. He comes down for games usually but couldn’t this season because of problems on the ranch.”
“Oh, bummer.” I say.
Adam adds, “Yeah, I wish I could be there to help him instead of—”
He cuts himself off.
Instead of here.
Instead of stuck marrying me.
My eyes start to sting so I fake a yawn.
“Gotchya. Well, hopefully he’s getting close to figuring this out for us. Those really are beautiful.” I point at the shelf one last time on my way out of the door. “I think I’m ready to go home now, though, if you don’t mind. The party planning has caught up to me.”
He looks like he’s about to say something for a second but quickly resets his face to its default position.
“Okay.”