by Lisa Edward
The affection they shared was obvious, but I told myself it was a friendly gesture as I pushed down the churning doubt in my stomach.
Max’s excited whimper from inside distracted me for a split second. When I looked back up, both Adam and the woman were staring back at me. I didn’t know where to look as I noticed Adam’s bare chest, then the mortified wide-eyed expression on his face. But it was the smug cocked eyebrow on the woman, mocking my confusion, that raised my heart to my throat.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I told my eyes not to deceive me as tears brimmed, blurring my vision. Taking three deep breaths, I tried to calm my racing heart while the woman, who looked immaculate in a clinging gray knitted dress, approached and opened the door. She resembled someone you would expect to see on a catwalk wearing a two-million-dollar bra and fluffy angel wings, and my jaw dropped open. I couldn’t stop my eyes from scanning her chest—her boobs were the most perfectly rounded mounds I’d ever seen. I looked at her face—yep, perfect teeth, perfect complexion, and perfect full, bouncy blonde hair.
I’m sure she was waiting for me to speak, to justify my intrusion on their private moment, but there were no words. There wasn’t one lucid thought in my head. All my concentration was focused on just getting through these next few minutes, second by second, with as much dignity as I could muster.
I stood on my tippy-toes to look past her into the living room, searching for Adam, expecting that any second now he would reassure me that what I thought I had seen wasn’t really so. And there he was, quickly slipping his sweater back over his head and running his hands through his hair to try to tidy the unruly mess.
“Hi, ah, Evie,” he said, hurrying over. He turned his body and slid between the Amazonian princess and the door, stepping out onto the deck. “What are…what are you doing over here?” he asked, wringing his hands as he avoided my gaze. “I was going to come over a bit later.”
I shook my head, my eyes pleading with him to tell me that my gut feeling was wrong. “I…I didn’t mean to interrupt.” My eyes darted to the blonde as she leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed over her ample bust. “I was…I was just goin’ for a walk.” I needed to flee this crushing scene while what little composure remained was intact, but as luck would have it, the woman who had been watching me with a cat-that-caught-the-canary look on her face, decided to speak.
“Hi, I’m Annabel,” she said in a smooth-as-silk voice as she extended her hand.
My stomach dropped, my eyes darting to Adam. “This is Annabel? But you said…”
“Yeah…” His hand rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Annabel, this is Evie, my neighbor. Evie, Annabel.” He indicated between us with his hand but his eyes were fixed firmly on his feet.
My Southern good manners kicked in and I gave her my best beaming smile. “How lovely to meet you, Annabel. Adam’s told me all about you.”
She hesitated, her gaze shifting to Adam before she smiled smugly. “Well, don’t believe everything he tells you.”
“Oh, I don’t,” I stated flatly.
Adam shifted uncomfortably as he regarded me from under his lashes, his jaw clenched. “Well, you’d better get going, Anna,” he finally said, breaking the deafening silence.
“Sure. I’ll see you in Philly in a couple days?” Leaning over, she kissed his cheek. He recoiled as if her lips were scorching hot.
She pulled a business card from her purse. “My office has moved, so here are my new numbers. Let me know when you’re coming. I’ll clear my afternoon.”
She handed him the card and quick as a fox I scanned that piece of paper as if my life depended on it. Dr. Annabel Carmichael. Then there were a whole lot of letters I couldn’t make out, but I didn’t need to—it was her title that leapt out and smacked me in the face.
Bitch is a doctor.
Adam shoved the card into his back pocket and mumbled, “Thanks.” His brow furrowed as he watched my eyes mist over. After everything he’d told me about her and how she had treated him, he was going back to her. It didn’t make sense. Was I really so naïve to think that what we had started to build together could compete with what they once had?
She beamed at him, her eyes all doelike as she batted her six-inch eyelashes. “I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind. I just know this coming year will be a good one.”
I was seething and totally embarrassed at the same time, the throbbing from my wax adventure being overtaken by my heartbeat drumming in my ears. She was beautiful and successful but that was no consolation for making him feel like dirt.
“That’s a nasty rash you have on your chin,” she said, examining my chafed skin. “You need to use vitamin E cream.”
My sudden moment of triumph at her realization that Adam and I had been kissing was short-lived.
“I used to get the most wicked beard rash—only not on my face. It was so bad at times I could hardly walk.” She chuckled.
My cheeks grew hot as I looked at Adam, feeling more insignificant with every passing moment.
He cringed and covered his face with his hand. “Jesus, Anna, is that really necessary?” he snapped.
She giggled like a silly schoolgirl, totally unperturbed by Adam not laughing along. “Still, he would never shave this off.” She scruffed his beard affectionately, and I gripped the railing until my knuckles turned white to stop myself from flying at her or him. She was blatantly flirting with him, but what had my teeth grinding was that he did nothing to stop her. He must know how I was feeling, that finding the two of them together was heartbreaking, but to have no regard for my feelings and let it continue on was shameless.
With a curt nod in my direction, she rounded the deck to descend the stairs that led to the carport, and I watched as she strutted for any sign of her being chafed between the thighs.
I couldn’t look at Adam; my stomach churned with disappointment in him. I was so disillusioned by what had just gone down.
“Evie, I…” He stepped in front of me with outstretched hands, but I backed away. Just the thought of him touching me made me feel dirty. I turned on my heels and as quickly as possible, headed back to my house.
Slamming the door behind me so hard I was worried the glass would shatter, I clicked the lock, then braced my hands on my knees as racking sobs tumbled out. My heart pounded against my ribs as I slumped to the floor, unable to catch my breath.
What an idiot I had been, getting all wrapped up in this gorgeous man to the point where I had started to work out, in my head, the logistics of a long-distance relationship with him after the winter was over. I was here to write, not fall in love. Just to write.
Drying my face with my top, I took a moment to gather my thoughts before picking myself up off the floor. I needed to forget about Adam. After everything I’d been through with Charles, I didn’t need my heart broken all over again when it was still so fragile. Storming over to my laptop, I plonked myself down on the chair and shoved my glasses up the bridge of my nose. No more distractions. No making out on the beach under the stars, or early morning swims where I could strategically drape myself around his neck and rub against his hard naked body as the water lapped around us.
No more.
Thank goodness I’d discovered the truth before things had gone any further. He had said he was through with Annabel, but based on the affectionate way she was touching him, they were far from over. He’d shown his true colors—he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
Besides, I didn’t need to spend any more time with him to finish my story. I already had every inch of his ridiculous gorgeousness committed to memory. Every contour of his face, the way his hair curled around his ears when it was wet. The thickness of his lashes and the curve of his perfectly bowed lips when he smiled.
I didn’t need him, because his sculpted torso with its broad shoulders and defined pecs that led down to his rock-hard abdominals were forever etched in my mind and woven into every part of my main male character. His facial expressions and body lang
uage graced every page of my manuscript, but one thing was for sure—my fireman Mac would never treat Stacey the way Adam had treated me. He would never deceive her and play her for a fool. But then, that was the beauty of writing—I could make anything happen. I could make him hung like a bull, wanting and panting with desperation, or lusty and domineering with just a few taps on the keyboard.
Of course, there would be no more mouthwatering home-cooked meals accompanied by good wine and scintillating conversation, either. But cold coffee and three-day-old doughnuts were just fine with me. I scraped the chair back and strode over to the bench to grab a doughnut, then thought better of it and seized the remainder of the packet. Maybe the sugar rush would kill me and I’d be done with the whole foolish schoolgirl crush.
There was a knock on the back door, and I spun around to find Adam peering through the glass, his hands cupped around his eyes to ward off reflection. Taking a deep breath to calm my temper, I stomped over to the door, then grabbed the edge of the curtain and yanked it across in front of him, blocking his view.
There were no explanations necessary. Nothing he could say to weasel his way out of what had just happened. Sure, we were just friends, and we hadn’t even slept together. But we’d done more than kiss, and it had been the best damn kiss I’d ever had, and I was so pissed because I would never experience a kiss like that again in my lifetime. I was sure of it.
“Evie…Evie, open the door,” he called.
You have got to be shittin’ me.
“Evie, I need to talk to you.”
Standing on the other side of the curtain with my arms crossed over my chest, I listened to his voice become increasingly urgent. His accent seemed stronger when he was tired or drunk—and apparently when he was in deep shit and trying to explain away something that couldn’t be forgiven.
“Evelyn, please open the door. It’s not what you think.”
I pulled the curtain back as if on autopilot. The shock of hearing my proper name spoken from Adam’s lips was like a time warp, and for all my progress over the last few months, I had to fight the urge to give in straightaway. Charles had always called me Evelyn, preferring it to the more familiar Evie, and I knew the consequences for not listening when he spoke. Still, I didn’t owe Adam anything.
“What?” I shouted through the door, hands firmly planted on hips. “I don’t care if you’re sorry, Adam. I ain’t interested in your feeble excuses.”
He slumped, his head tilted to one side. “I didn’t come over to apologize. I need to ask…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I need to ask a favor.”
My head was shaking no, but I knew I would cave and do as he asked. I was a people pleaser and having someone ask me for something was my biggest weakness.
“What do you want, Adam?” I snapped, jerking the door open.
“It’s not what you think, Evie,” he said again quickly, stepping into the room before I had a chance to change my mind, Max in tow.
“So ya ain’t goin’ to Philly?” My arms were crossed defensively over my chest, warning him not to come near me.
“I am.” He hesitated, smoothing his beard in the place where Annabel had raked her fingers through it. “I have an appointment this week, so…”
I’d never heard of a booty call being referred to as an appointment. Maybe she was a hooker?
Turning, I walked to the sofa and sat heavily. This was too much. Were we seriously going to discuss this like two old friends? As if he hadn’t just ripped my heart out of my chest by parading his gorgeous ex-girlfriend in front of me? And why wasn’t she upset that I’d obviously been kissing her ex-boyfriend like nobody’s business? Maybe they had an open relationship where they could be with other people, but that wasn’t okay with me. I wasn’t prepared to be someone’s number two, even if he was the most extraordinary man I’d ever met.
“So go. I don’t need to know all the sordid details, Adam.” Tears pricked my eyes but I fought them back. We hadn’t known each other long enough for my blubbering to be seen as anything more than me being some crazy obsessed nutcase, trying to cling to something that was never really there.
His deep blue eyes searched my face as his hand took mine. Even as he was smashing my heart he was showing compassion. Damn him.
“Please don’t.” I pulled my hand away, shoving it between my thighs and out of reach.
“It’s not what you think, with Annabel. We’re not together anymore.”
“I saw you gettin’ dressed, Adam. If it’s not what I think, then tell me why else you would be half naked with her all over you?”
I waited. I waited for what felt like a lifetime for him to explain it away, and for a moment I thought he was going to. He opened his mouth to speak, but then his eyes…changed. From the open lines of communication we’d always had, a wall went up and he shut me out.
“Whatever, Adam. It doesn’t matter. It’s not my business what you do,” I said resignedly as I stood and headed for the door.
Adam followed behind. “Evie, please, you have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, the warmth drawing me back to him. “I can’t go into it right now—I need to get organized before I leave—but I’ll be back in a few days.” His fingers brushed my collarbone and I closed my eyes, unable to control the racing of my heart. “I need to ask…would you mind looking after Max while I’m gone? It’s a long drive to Philly for a dog and I’ll only be there a day, two at the most.”
I sighed. I couldn’t be angry with Max—he was less of a dog than his owner.
“Fine. Everythin’s just fine. You go do what ya need to do.” I forced a smile, thankful that I’d had so many years of being let down by Charles and cloaking my disappointment behind a well-worn mask. “We’ll be okay, won’t we, Max?” I scruffed the dog’s head and he wagged his tail excitedly.
I was dying inside, my heart so heavy I thought I would never be happy again, but I couldn’t show it. It was yet another carryover legacy from my time with Charles.
Adam studied my face and I held the illusion that I was perfectly fine with his going away. “There’s really nothing going on with Annabel. Do you believe me?”
I nodded, but didn’t risk speaking for fear that my voice would catch in my throat, betraying me. I didn’t believe him, but more than anything I didn’t want to make a fool of myself by breaking down in front of him. They had so much history together, where as we had only a few weeks. If he had chosen her, then that was just something I would have to deal with.
He smiled, his demeanor relaxed as he stepped through the doorway. “Thanks, Buttercup. I’ll see you in a few days.”
I ain’t doin’ it for you. I’m doin’ it for Max.
Sliding the door closed, I turned my back as my bottom lip began to tremble. “And stop callin’ me Buttercup.”
Writer’s block is a bitch…a bitch named Annabel.
I couldn’t get her shiny blonde locks out of my head, or the way her boobs stayed perfectly still as she moved. I would put money that when she lay on her back, those titties kept pointing straight up to God. She was obviously so full of plastic they would melt right off if she got too close to a fire. Still, she did look as if she’d just stepped off the cover of Vogue. No wonder Adam was running back to Philly to see her; she was gorgeous.
I had to stop. All this obsessing over Barbie and Ken was driving me insane. I needed a sanity check.
“Ang, I need you,” I blurted out when she answered on the third ring. “Can you come to the Hamptons for the weekend, please?”
Offloading the kids with her parents was never a problem for Angie; in fact, I think she looked for an excuse to get away from them. She was an amazing mother and doted on them, but now that she was raising them on her own, and received no support from her cheating ex-husband, the chance for a girls’ weekend was like a trip to the Bahamas.
Angie was on my doorstep within hours, still dressed in her business suit and heels, her arri
val announced by Max’s protective barking at the door. She looked flustered, and I felt bad for not telling her that it wasn’t a life or death emergency, only that my heart had been broken once again. Taking one look at my swollen, bloodshot eyes and disheveled appearance, Angie dropped her bags and pulled me into a hug.
“What’d the dirtbag do?” she muffled into my hair. “Come, tell Aunt Ang all ’bout it.”
I filled Angie in on all the gory details. The supermodel figure, the blonde shiny hair, the slinky outfit that hugged her shape perfectly, and the fact that on top of all that, she was a doctor with loads of letters after her name.
“Well at least you hadn’t slept with him yet, right?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly.”
Her eyes lit up. “What?”
Despite feeling as if I’d been pulled through the wringer, I couldn’t help laughing at her reaction. Just having Angie there made me feel better. Good enough at least to have a shower and change out of my sweats and sloppy sweater. She followed me into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed while I entered the bathroom, leaving the door open so we could shout over the sound of the shower.
I told her about Christmas night on the beach and the make-out session that had ensued. Even under the thundering water, I could hear her squealing with delight as I went into too much detail explaining our swim the next morning and how he had so easily found my buttons and pushed them.
“Well, I’m sorry things didn’t work out, hon,” she said, reclining on the bed while I dressed. “But at least now you’ve discovered that a guy who knows his way ‘round can get your motor running. That’s somethin’.”
That was true. All my years with Charles had never amounted to any more than a tingle, and secretly I was worried that maybe there was something wrong with me. Maybe my inability to get pregnant was somehow linked to my hormones and libido, and I was destined to live my entire life, not knowing how it felt to be totally swept away with lust to the point where you were screaming the walls down.
