by Noelle Adams
Adam was propped up in bed with his laptop when she came back into the bedroom. He wore a white t-shirt and gray pajama bottoms, and clearly wasn’t feeling any more romantic than she was.
He glanced up when she entered but didn’t speak.
“Everything okay at work?” she asked lightly, wondering if he was stressed out about something he wasn't telling her.
He lifted his eyes briefly with an arch of his eyebrows. “Sure.”
Then back to his laptop.
She let out a frustrated sigh as she went over to turn off the gas log in the fireplace, since the room was getting overly warm. But she was determined to stay patient, since Adam had always been patient with her.
She picked up a book and got into the bed beside him, having to tug on the covers to get under them, since he was lying on top of the duvet. Without moving his eyes from his work, he lifted his hips so she could get some slack in the sheet.
For no good reason, that was the last straw. “Would you put down the damned laptop and talk to me for a minute!” she demanded, sitting up ramrod straight in bed.
He twitched in surprise, but he calmly closed his laptop and put it on the bedside table. Then he turned and asked, “What did you want to talk about?”
He didn’t quite meet her eyes, and his expression was cool and distant.
She hated—hated—that expression. It was the way he’d always acted when she’d seen him during her marriage with Josh. She’d thought she’d seen the last of that man after Josh died.
And here he had reemerged again.
She let out a throaty sound of absolute frustration. “What’s wrong with you, Adam? Something’s been bothering you for a week now, and you’re pretending that nothing’s wrong!”
Adam’s face changed almost imperceptibly. His lips tightened and something flared up in his eyes. For a moment, she thought he was going to tell her.
But then the spark of feeling was extinguished, and he shook his head. “Sorry if I’ve been moody. It’s nothing for you to worry about.
She reached out for him, but dropped her hand since he still looked so standoffish. “But I do worry about you, Adam. Can you at least give me a hint?”
His eyes rested on her face. She couldn’t tell if he was searching her face for something or if he was trying to maintain his stoic demeanor.
“Is it work?” she asked, hurting for him and frustrated that he still felt compelled to hold so much back.
He shook his head. “No.”
“Is it…” Her voice cracked on the thought. “Is it us?”
His eyes flickered over to her face, and she saw what she needed to see there.
She’d thought things had been going so well between them for the last few months. They'd had a rocky start, but they were doing so well now. She’d been happy. She thought Adam had been happy too.
It hurt so much she had to take a few breaths before she managed to ask, “Can’t you tell me what about us is bothering you?”
“It’s nothing important, Zoe,” he said, evidently recognizing how upset she was. He looked more like himself as he reached over to push some hair back from her cheek. “I’m just moody sometimes. You know that. Things between us are fine.”
She didn’t believe him for a minute. “Adam, why are you still holding things back? How can I make things better if I don’t know what I’m doing wrong?”
“Zoe,” he said, a hoarse urgency in his voice that she hadn’t heard in a week. “You’re not doing anything wrong. I’m sorry I made you think that. It’s…”
“It’s what?” she whispered, sensing her cheeks had gone pale.
“It’s hard. For both of us. That Josh died.”
She froze for a moment, trapped between conflicting possibilities. The statement wasn’t much, and it could mean any number of things. But at least it was something. “Okay,” she said, wanting to press him for more information but afraid it would backfire and he’d close up completely. “Okay.”
Adam searched her face for a moment. Then he reached over and turned off the bedside light. It was dark in the room when he pulled her into his arms.
Neither one of them was in the mood for sex, but he held her until he went to sleep. They didn’t speak again.
* * *
Adam rolled over to his side of the bed once he fell asleep, but Zoe couldn’t sleep at all. After an hour, she was afraid her tossing and turning would wake him up, so she got up, put her slippers on, and went downstairs to make herself a cup of chamomile tea.
She sat in the window seat in the kitchen and stared out into the night.
She thought about Adam for a long time. Then she thought about Josh.
When her tea was mostly gone, she went over and pulled a framed photograph out of a drawer in the desk that was built into the wall of the kitchen. It was the picture from her honeymoon with Josh, with her on his lap in the beach chair.
She still liked to look at it sometimes, but she was afraid Adam might be hurt if she placed the photo in too obvious a position.
The leather box was in the drawer too, so she opened it and pulled out her wedding band and engagement ring. She spontaneously slipped them on for a minute and lifted her hand to kiss them—a brief gesture of affection for her former husband.
She smiled at the sight of Josh’s grinning face in the picture and stroked his face with her finger.
She’d loved Josh. So much. That would never change.
But now she loved Adam too.
So much.
It seemed a strange time to figure it out for sure, in the middle of the night after a tense conversation with a very grumpy Adam.
But she was sure of it. No matter how repressed and brooding and exasperatingly close-mouthed he sometimes was, she loved him.
She stroked Josh’s face one more time, and her smile widened even further as a rush of heady excitement washed over her.
She didn’t feel conflicted—at all—anymore.
She could love both of them without betraying either one.
A flicker of movement at the door seemed to catch her attention, but when she looked up no one was there. She looked back down at the picture, wishing Adam was awake so she could tell him.
When she moved the photo from one hand to the other so she could take her last sip of tea, she noticed the rings still on her hand. She slid them off immediately and put them back in the leather box.
Then she put the box and the photo back in the drawer.
Feeling unburdened for the first time in ages, she was smiling to herself as she put her cup in the sink. She went back to the window for a minute and stared out into the night.
It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to run upstairs, jump on the bed, wake Adam up, and declare how much she loved him. He was obviously working through some issues of his own about their relationship.
It occurred to her that he might sometimes feel guilty, that he was gaining from his cousin's death.
Maybe that was what he was still holding back.
He’d been so patient through all of her issues. She could wait for him too.
* * *
When she returned to the bedroom, Adam was awake, dressed, and packing his bag.
Zoe stood in the doorway, paralyzed with bewilderment over this incongruous scenario, so soon after she'd experienced such a joyous revelation.
“What are you doing?” she asked at last, a shrill urgency rising in her voice after having processed that whatever was happening here couldn’t be good.
Adam didn’t look up at her. He wore what he must have brought for the next morning and was folding the trousers he’d worn the previous evening before putting them in his bag. He was working on the crease with a ludicrous amount of attention. “I’m heading home,” he murmured mildly.
Zoe ran over to him and grabbed his arm. “Why are you going home?” she demanded, a flare of panic awakening in her chest. “Adam, what’s happening?”
He paused in his packing and stare
d just over her shoulder. He looked stiff, distant, and yet utterly defeated. “I need to think.”
“What do you mean?” she gasped, clinging to his arm when he tried to pull it away. “What do you need to think about? Why do you have to leave right now?”
He released an uneven breath and retrieved his arm. Then he started to fold his shirt.
There was something resolved on his face that absolutely terrified her. “Adam, you can’t just leave like this. You haven’t even told me what’s wrong between us. And now it feels like you’re just giving up on us, without even giving us a chance to fix it.”
He’d appeared drained before, but suddenly his eyes flashed with what looked like anger. “You think I haven’t given us a chance?”
She had no idea what was happening, but it didn’t feel like he was just going home to think. It felt final.
Right after she’d realized she loved him.
“You’re leaving me?”
“I’m just going home. To think.”
“At least tell me what you need to think about,” she said, a palpable plea in her voice. “Things were good, weren’t they? I thought they were good.”
He took another raspy breath as he zipped his bag. He walked over to put his laptop in its leather case. “Things were good,” he admitted, his eyes focused on his case. “But I don’t know if they’re enough.”
It hurt. Horribly. That something about her wasn’t enough for him. She wanted to turn away, hide her reaction.
But he was about to leave. She could see it in his stance. He had his stuff together, and he was going to just walk out the door.
When she loved him. And knew absolutely nothing about what was causing this.
So she ran over and jerked the case out of his hand. He reached out for it, but she held it tightly to her chest. “No! You’re not going to leave until you tell me. Why aren’t I enough for you?”
“It’s not that you aren’t enough,” he said at last. The words were thick and forced, as if they resisted being spoken. “I just need to think about whether what you can offer me is enough.”
She stared at him, bewildered and devastated, her face contorting as she held back tears.
He reached out for her, as if responding to an urge to comfort her. But then his hand dropped with a jerk. “I thought it could happen. I wanted it to happen. But I don’t know if it’s ever going to happen. Josh is always going to get in the way.” He stretched his arm out to retrieve his case, and she was too dazed from processing his words to resist.
He’d almost made it out of the room when she finally figured out what had happened.
It had been a movement that had attracted her attention in the kitchen. Adam had come down to find her. And he’d found her with Josh’s picture. Wearing his rings.
A wave of utter exasperation was followed quickly by a deeper wave of joy. Because she finally understood what was causing this.
She ran over and grabbed him just before he got to the door. “Adam, you absolute idiot!”
Her outraged exclamation must have surprised him so much he stopped and stared down at her, his eyes aching so much it actually hurt her to see.
“I wasn’t down there crying over Josh,” she burst out, pushed into speech by the intensity of her emotions. All of her emotions. “I love Josh. I always will. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you too!”
Adam stared at her blankly. Then what she said finally registered in his mind. “Wh—” he almost choked on the word. “What?”
Ridiculously, Zoe was hit with a wave of self-consciousness. She dropped her eyes. But she’d said what she’d said, and she didn't regret it. “You heard me.”
“Do you?” he breathed.
“Yeah,” she admitted, peeking up at him. “I love you. That’s…that’s why you can’t leave.”
Adam dropped his bag. Then the strap of his case slid slowly down his shoulder until his case flopped to the floor as well. When she checked his face, he looked so stunned, so paralyzed, that she got a little worried.
“Maybe we should sit down,” she said gently, feeling an incongruous tenderness rise up inside her. Her panic earlier had subsided—since she was pretty sure Adam wasn’t going to leave—but now she was concerned about his reaction.
They went to sit on the edge of the bed. Adam leaned over, his forearms on his thighs. He breathed raggedly.
“Adam?” she asked at last. “Why are you so surprised? Isn’t that…isn’t that what we've been moving toward for three months? Isn't this the natural progression?”
“Yeah,” he rasped on a taken breath. “But…”
“But what?”
"You were down there wearing Josh’s rings."
She showed him her empty left hand. "I was just remembering him. I was just happy to be…to be healed."
When he didn't speak, just stared at her hand, she said carefully, "I don’t think this is just about seeing me down there tonight. If something else has been bothering you, it would have helped if you could have told me.” She hoped it didn’t sound like she was reproaching him.
He nodded, but it was more a jerk of his head. He focused his eyes at the floor and was still hunched forward, as if he couldn't breathe.
She realized he was still overcome with shock that she told him she loved him.
She reached over and rubbed his back. Then she slid her hand up to knead the tight muscles in the back of his neck. Finally she dared to ask, very softly, “I understand you misunderstood what you saw. But otherwise things were going pretty well between us. Why didn't you think this would really happen?”
“Because…” His face had gone pale, and his eyes never moved from the floor. “Because I’ve wanted it for so long.”
Zoe took in those words. They told her something. But not enough. She was too worried about him to press any further at the moment, however. Still massaging his neck, she asked, “Adam? Are you okay?”
He gave a huff of what might have been laughter, but it seemed to hurt his throat. “Yeah.”
“Are you,” she began, rubbing down the length of his spine, “going to pass out?”
“Maybe.”
Zoe couldn't help it. The whole evening had just been too much. She giggled.
Adam turned his head to slant her a rueful gaze.
She giggled even more.
He let out another exhale of amusement, this one not quite so raspy. And he managed to straighten up.
Then he reached over to pull her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. “Oh baby,” he murmured roughly, his face buried against her hair. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you—I love you too.”
* * *
Zoe went down to get Adam a cup of hot tea with sugar. After he’d drunk it, she made him take a shower, saying teasingly that he was a little rank.
Mostly she thought it would make him feel better.
When he came out of the shower, clean, smelling of soap, and wearing only his pajama pants, Zoe was already in bed.
He climbed under the covers with her. Zoe studied his face. His color was better, but he looked battered, absolutely drained.
He smiled at her, but didn’t speak. She turned off the light. The room was still lit slightly from a light from the bathroom, but neither had the energy to go turn it off.
When she curled up against him, he wrapped both of his arms around her. He seemed beyond words—the way he was after sex. Like he’d poured too much of himself out and there was nothing left.
There was no way they were going to have sex, but neither of them slept. Adam held her, and Zoe lay in his arms and reflected.
His reaction to her declaration of love had been…extreme.
He’d said it was because he’d wanted it for so long.
They’d only been dating three months. He’d been interested in her at least a few months before that. And he’d been attracted to her even before her marriage to Josh.
But still. His reaction
had been extreme.
He felt things very deeply—far more deeply than he ever wanted to reveal. But that still didn’t adequately explain how her words had knocked him off his feet.
An hour later, she knew he was still awake. So, to test the waters, see if he’d recovered enough to talk, she said, “Hi.”
His arms tightened, and he let out a breath of laughter. “Hi.”
She lifted her head from his chest and looked down on him in the dark. “You were going to leave me.”
“I was just leaving for tonight. To think. I thought—”
“I know what you thought. But it felt like it might have been more than just leaving for the night. It wasn’t cool to walk out just because you thought I was still missing Josh.”
He exhaled slowly before he spoke. “I know. It was the last straw.”
“Why?”
With a shake of his head, he explained, “I’m not sure. It just seemed like the final sign that I’d been waiting for so long…for nothing.”
“But we were together. We’ve been together for three months.”
“I know.”
“So what was the matter? Was I doing something to make you think that I didn’t really want to be with you? What made you think what we had wouldn’t be enough?”
“I don’t know exactly.” The words were halting, difficult for him to say. “I just couldn’t believe it was real. I felt like I still had to hold back from really being with you, so as not to rush you or scare you or overwhelm you with how much I loved you. It wasn’t anything you did. I think I was just in the pattern, after holding back so much for so long, that I couldn’t…I just couldn’t break it.”
Her heart actually ached for him, for what he must have been feeling. But he’d also opened the door for her to ask, “How long?”
He grew still. “What?”
“How long? How long have you been holding back? How long have you wanted me to love you?”
He turned his head away from her.
She just waited. It wasn’t going to help to pester him to hurry up his reply. He would either tell her or he wouldn’t.
