CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MADELEINE
“ is the best date I’ve ever been on,” I announce with a sated sigh.
I’ve got a hot pepperoni pizza propped up in a box in front of me, enough chocolate ice cream to last me for days, and best of all, old reruns of The Office playing on the TV. I couldn’t ask for anything more.
“Don’t ever say I don’t know how to wine and dine a girl.”
I smile and glance over to Daisy, who is currently wearing a hideous pajama dress, fuzzy socks, and some of those weird under-eye moisturizer strips. My slinky red dress is tossed across the back of her couch, replaced by an oversized t-shirt and Daisy’s pajama shorts. I’m rocking my own pair of fuzzy socks, but I drew the line at moisture masks. After all, my makeup looks killer and I’d like to preserve it, even if no one but Daisy and Lucas will see it.
That reminds me.
“Hey Lucas! Could you bring us another bottle of wine?”
He groans in the kitchen, none too thrilled about his role as butler for the evening. I’m quick to remind him of all I’ve done for him in his time of need.
“Remember when you and Daisy had that massive fight and I housed you for like a week?”
Silence.
Then a few minutes later, a bottle of chilled rosé drops in my lap.
“Open it yourself,” he says before heading upstairs to his man cave.
“What does he even do in there?” I whisper to Daisy. “Have you checked his computer history?”
She grabs the corkscrew from the coffee table and gets to work on the bottle. “I kid you not, he’s into basketball now. He’s watched every single Spurs game this season.”
I shiver at the thought of suffering through a sporting event. “Make with the wine. I think we can get through another couple episodes before I need to head back.”
“I still don’t get why you had to pretend to go on a date tonight.”
“I’m not pretending, Daisy, this is a date. I’ve been in love with you for the last 20 years.”
She tops off my wine glass. “Funny.”
I shrug. “I had no other choice. Adam was coming over and I couldn’t just greet him in my pajamas. He’s already seen how pitiful my life is, so I wanted him to think I had some semblance of a love life outside of him.”
“But you don’t.”
I wave my hand in front of me so it encompasses our wine glasses, pizza, and fuzzy-socked feet. “What do you call this?”
“A friendship with unhealthy, codependent tendencies.”
I smile. “Well to me it seems like the start of something really, really special.”
“You have issues, and sorry, I can only watch one more episode. I’m ovulating and Lucas and I need to—”
“STOP. Jesus. That’s my brother you’re talking about.”
“Our fertility specialist said we need to go at it like rabbits.”
My fingers are stuffed in my ears. “La la la la la.”
“And if we don’t conceive this month, then we have to start to talk about other options.”
I drop my fingers and peer over at her. She’s staring down at her hands and nibbling on her bottom lip, clearly distraught. She and Lucas have been trying to have a baby for over a year. I’ve sat with Daisy and watched her read pregnancy test after pregnancy test—always negative, always a disappointment.
I nudge her with my elbow. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugs. “It’s okay. I mean, we haven’t even scratched the surface. We still have a lot of options.”
“Yeah…I just know how hard the last year has been for you. Remember, I can connect you to Adam’s sister-in-law, Kathy, if you want me to. She took Clomid and that’s how she conceived her twins.”
She doesn’t meet my gaze; I think she’ll cry if she does. Instead, she reaches over and squeezes my hand. We sit like that for a while, watching The Office and pretending like everything’s okay.
…
By the time I head home, I’m sleepy from wine and ready to crawl into bed. It was hard enough to put my dress back on; I didn’t even attempt the heels. They’re sitting in the passenger seat when I pull into my apartment complex.
Sitting in the parking spot beside mine is a familiar black Audi.
What the hell.
I throw my car into park.
Why is he still here?
An optimistic part of me assumes his car crapped out and he left it here and headed home. I know that’s not the case though. Nice cars like that don’t crap out—just mine—which means Adam is still inside my apartment and I’m pissed as hell. Can’t a girl pretend to go on a date and come home in peace? Why is he so insistent on making my life a living hell? The fact that I’ve been ignoring his calls and emails should make it pretty clear that I want to be left alone.
I groan and flip down my visor, checking my reflection. The situation isn’t as dire as I would have assumed. Thanks to the amount of pizza I devoured at Daisy’s house, I look thoroughly ravished. Good. Let him think my date couldn’t take his hands off me.
Then I look over and see my heels mocking me from the passenger seat. I have to take off my cloudlike fuzzy socks and put my heels back on, all because Adam doesn’t know how to give me space. I groan and reach over for the offensive footwear. I take my time strapping them on, hoping Adam will stroll out and leave at this precise moment. I’ll wave from my perch in my car and we’ll be nothing more than two ships passing in the night.
No such luck. A few minutes later, I finally have to face the music. I march up the path to my apartment and stick my key in the door, but Adam unlocks it before I can. How thoughtful.
He stands on the other side, holding the door open for me. His hair is damp from a shower and he’s changed into clean clothes: jeans and a soft t-shirt. Oh, by all means, make yourself at home.
“What are you still doing here?”
He flashes me a small smile. “Mouse didn’t want me to leave.”
Mouse is snuggled up in a ball on the couch, too comfortable to get up and greet me—his mother.
“Okay, well, I’m tired…” Hint. Hint.
“You’re back pretty early,” Adam assesses, completely ignoring my implied suggestion for him to leave my apartment. Has he never had to take social cues before? Do social cues even apply to hot people? The probability is low.
I roll my eyes as I step past him. “Gotta leave them wanting more, Foxe. You of all people should know that.”
“Yeah? Tell me about your date. Was he nice?”
Something in his tone sounds off.
I yank off my heels and derive just a little too much pleasure from flinging them into my closet.
“He was a perfect gentleman, thank you for asking,” I reply as I make my way back out into the living room.
Adam is sitting on my couch looking like he owns the place. I bet if I sit there after he leaves, it’ll smell like him. How disturbing. He can’t just come into my life and change the scent of my furniture.
He’s watching me with a half-smile.
He tilts his head and asks, “Where did you go?”
I prop my hands on my hips. “A little Italian restaurant.”
“What’d you order?”
“Pizza.”
“And what did you two talk about?”
“Books. Politics. Culture.” I wave my hand in the air to encompass all of the made-up subjects. “The conversation really flowed.”
His brow arches in disbelief. “And what about a second date? I’m sure he asked about that before he dropped you off.”
I resist a sneer.
“Already scheduled for next week.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm.” I brush my finger down my silky skirt. “I’m thinking about wearing an even sexier dress since we’ll probably, y’know…”
“You can stop lying now,” he snaps, his eyes full of the same fire I saw at the YMCA.
I toss my hands in the air. “WOW. What is it like to wake up every day with your level of arrogance? I’ve asked you to leave like ten times and yet there you sit on my couch, petting my dog, accusing me of lying!?”
“Lucas told me you were over at his house,” he says with an even, cool tone.
My brother is now dead to me.
I offer him a condescending slow clap. “Way to go, Sherlock. You figured it out. I didn’t have a date. Nope, I just couldn’t stand to be in your presence for longer than five minutes, so I lied. Do you feel good about yourself now?”
His brows furrow and the fire in his gaze blazes just a little hotter. “He only told me because he knew I’ve been trying to reach you the last few days.”
“Oh, so you and my brother are confidantes now? Well why don’t you do me a favor and tell him to fuck off, and then you can pass the message along to yourself as well.”
He has the audacity to smile then. If I were still holding my heels, I’d fling one at his stupid, magnificent head.
“That’s it. Mouse, attack!”
Mouse licks his butt.
It was worth a try.
Adam pushes to stand and stalks toward me. I back up. For every step he takes, I take two, but still, his strides somehow eat up the distance between us. I hold my hands out to keep him at arm’s length and his muscled chest hits my palms. It feels like I’m trying to hold back a tidal wave.
“I misspoke the other night,” he says, wrapping his hands around mine and keeping them pinned against his chest. I was fending him off, but now it seems like the exact opposite.
“Oh?”
“Obviously, I’m interested.”
I reply with a very unladylike snort. “Obviously? You could have fooled me.”
“C’mon Madeleine, I’m very interested,” he repeats, his steady gaze holding mine. “But I was trying to do the right thing. I just got out of an engagement. I moved across the country. I’m a mess.” I nearly laugh—his life is infinitely less messy than mine. “You aren’t someone I want to fuck around with.”
“So you’re saying I’m not fuckable?” I tease.
“Madeleine.”
His hands tighten over mine as he tugs me closer. This proximity is starting to be a problem. The tension between us is growing, and I’m scared we’re about to have a repeat of the YMCA make-out session—except now we’re alone in my apartment and my couch is just a few steps behind him. Worse, my bed is even closer.
I need to extinguish the fire between us stat.
“I’m kidding! Adam, listen, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I heard you loud and clear the other night, and I’ve moved on. That kiss was nothing—pfft, less than nothing.”
I think I’m doing a good job of diminishing my feelings, right up until his eyes flare. Oh no. I think I’ve just swung a red flag in front of an angry bull.
“Nothing?” he asks, sidling even closer. “Less than nothing? Huh.”
My eyes have to be as round as saucers. I’m scared of what he’s capable of…or maybe I’m curious.
“Adam, c’mon. You said you wanted to do the right thing, remember? Go home—that’s the right thing.”
He smirks and steps closer. We’re hip to hip when he bends down and brushes his lips against my ear. “You haven’t been listening.”
I shiver and then insist, “I have.”
“I don’t want to do the right thing anymore.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, willing myself to wake up from this bizarre dream. Adam’s hand releases my wrist and he skims the back of his finger up my forearm and bicep until he hits the thin red strap of my dress. It’s loose and easy to tug down my shoulder. The front of my dress falls with it and the swell of my breast is hit with cold air-conditioning.
“I really, really don’t want to do the right thing anymore,” he says just before his lips hit my collarbone.
My head falls back until it hits the wall, and my fingers sink into his hair just like they did last week. We already have old habits. His lips on my skin feel familiar, right. He peels down another inch of my dress, and I’m too nervous to open my eyes. I know how much he can see. I can feel his mouth on my breast. I should have worn a bra. Two bras.
“Hold on to me, Madeleine.”
My eyes jerk open. “Hold on to you?!”
Before I get a reply, Adam picks me up off the ground and forces me to wrap my legs around his hips. He pushes me up against my apartment wall and crashes his mouth to mine. Holy shit. We’ve gone from zero to 60 in seconds. We’re making out like savages. The popcorn texture on the wall is scraping my back, maybe leaving marks, who knows—I don’t feel a thing. Adam is a painkiller.
His hand is in my hair, and then it’s sliding down and tugging on the other strap of my dress until the fabric is pooled at my waist. With my skirt shoved high on my thighs and my top peeled away, I’m nearly naked and blushing scarlet from my navel to my chin.
“We should slow down,” I sputter just before his mouth falls to my chest.
He swirls his tongue around my nipple and my eyes pinch closed.
Or, y’know, speed up even more.
I’ve never been taken like this before. This apartment and these walls have seen purely PG action over the years. All sexual activities were relegated to the bedroom—lights off, music on, blankets covering body parts.
At this moment, Adam has me pinned against the wall. My legs are coiled around him like a snake and he’s in charge. I’m helpless. I don’t even think my fingers have feeling anymore. I can only focus on his mouth. On my breast. The cool air he blows before covering the sensitive skin with his lips. Sucking and tasting and doing his best to draw out every ounce of resistance.
But it’s not enough.
I can’t do this.
Nothing good will come from having sex with Adam.
Well, I can think of one good thing—but no, I can’t.
“Adam…we have to stop.”
He pulls back and his damp hair is tousled, courtesy of my fingers. It’s adorable, and I nearly cave.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
With his brows tugged together and a concerned frown playing on his lips, I want nothing more than to lean forward and continue right where we left off. Instead, I hold my ground.
“We aren’t dating. This is a bad idea.”
It becomes clear then how funny it is to be having this conversation while we’re poised in this position. I can feel how hard Adam is between my legs. My chest is still completely exposed to him. His hand is, yup, still on my boob.
I reach down for the straps of my dress and tug it back up as best as I can.
He lets me down gently, no groan or protest. My knees nearly buckle, but he keeps hold of me until I have my footing. It’s a sweet gesture, and it makes the next few minutes all the more painful.
We’re silent as he gathers his stuff and heads for the door, but it’s not an angry, tense silence. There’s a resolved, solemn feeling in the air, like maybe we both agree that this is for the best.
I trail after him, holding the door open as he steps through. He turns back and catches my eye. I smile. He smiles, and then he steps closer, dropping his forehead to mine. My eyes flutter closed and for a few seconds, there’s nothing to hear but the sound of our breaths coming in unison.
The unspoken words fill the gap between our bodies.
“Good night Madeleine.”
He brushes my cheek with the back of his hand, and then he’s gone. I close the door and sink down to the floor. His car revs up in the parking lot, and I stare at the wall where he just had me pinned. There might as well be a white chalk outline etched there. After all, it’s a crime scene. Theft in the first degree.