My hands are shaking. They’ve been shaking pretty much all day. Every time I think about Adam, the shakes start. How I haven’t managed to break a cup, I’m not sure.
He looks the same yet different. He looks hardened to the world. The light that used to live in his eyes has dulled. But he’s still as handsome as ever, if not even more so with age.
Adam never looked like a boy. He was always very much a man, even at eighteen. But now, he’s reached his full potential. He seems even bigger somehow.
Or maybe it was just his anger that made him seem bigger, more imposing.
All that anger, and it was reserved solely for me.
The guy I left behind all those years ago was not the man I saw today.
I have to wonder if I’m to blame for that.
I glance at the clock. Five minutes until the end of my shift. Five minutes until Adam is here, and he wants his answers.
Answers I can’t give him.
So, I’m going to have to lie, something I never wanted to do.
I thought there was a slim possibility that I might see Adam in Beverly Hills, as his studio is here. I wasn’t hoping to see him—well, maybe I had a little bit of hope. But I also knew what kind of complications would come from seeing Adam.
It’s not like Adam and I run in the same circles. I basically come into Beverly Hills for work, and then I go home to my apartment in Culver City. So, I thought the chances of seeing him were minimal. I mean, I work in a coffee shop that’s inside a hotel, for God’s sake. Never did I expect for him to come in here.
Why is he staying at the hotel anyway? Surely, he has a house in Beverly Hills.
I only got this job through a friend who I worked with back in San Francisco. She’d left there and moved here to be with her boyfriend, taking the manager’s job.
When I knew I would be moving here, I got in touch with her, and lucky for me, her assistant manager was pregnant and would be taking maternity leave soon. She couldn’t guarantee me that there would be a permanent job at the end of the six months. So, I’m going to look for another job while I’m working this one.
I had to move back up this way because Casey, my kid sister, announced that she was going to the University of California, Los Angeles.
When Casey had told my dad and me that she wanted to study nursing at college, we knew she’d apply to the University of California, San Francisco, but we didn’t know she’d also apply to UCLA. She applied and was accepted to both, and she chose UCLA. She told me she missed home. And UCLA was as close to Malibu as we could get.
I can’t say that I wasn’t terrified at the thought of moving back up this way, being close to Adam again. But I also can’t deny that the thought of being closer to Adam, although terrifying, didn’t excite me a little, too.
But that’s the thing about us Taylors. We’re a package deal. Where one goes, so do the other two. So, there was no choice.
We rented an apartment in Culver City. It’s not too pricey for Los Angeles, and it’s close to UCLA. For Casey, it’s only a twenty-minute drive to school, and for me, it’s a twenty-minute drive to work.
We didn’t want to wait to move until September as Casey had enrolled in some summer classes. She’d said she wanted to be ready for her courses this fall. Casey has always loved school, loved learning. It’s probably because she missed so much school when she was younger. Me? I couldn’t wait to get out of school. That probably explains why I still work in a coffee shop.
I glance at the clock again. It’s one minute before five.
“I’m gonna head out,” I say to Angie, one of the girls I work with.
We don’t close until nine p.m. I opened up, so Angie will close.
Getting ready to meet up with Adam, I head into the back and grab my thin jacket and my bag.
When I step back out behind the counter, Adam is standing there.
My eyes meet with his, and nerves ripple through me.
He looks as pissed as he did this morning.
He has every right to that anger, and I have to remind myself of that.
“Hi,” I say to him.
“Are you ready to go?”
Well, at least he’s asking me this time instead of telling me.
“Sure.” I come out from behind the counter, aware of Angie’s wide eyes on Adam.
I can understand why. Adam is a beautiful man, in every sense of the word—tall with eyes like a turquoise stone and a swimmer’s body. Add that in with his natural confidence and alpha stance, and women can’t help but stare.
Women ogling Adam was something I had to get used to when we were together, not that it ever really bothered me. Back then, I knew he loved me, and his eyes were only on me.
They’re still on me now, just not the way they used to be, and that hurts more than I can begin to explain.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Angie.
“Yeah, see you,” she says.
I follow Adam over to the door in silence. He holds it open for me, letting me through first. It might seem like the gentleman is still in him, but I don’t think it is—well, not for me anyway. He’s probably just making sure I go through the door and don’t bolt behind the counter to make a run for it out the back door, which I’m now considering.
I can feel the rage emanating from him, and it’s smacking straight into me, like hail hitting a windowpane.
“Where do you want to go to…talk?”
Knowing Adam, he already knows where we’re going. He always was a take-charge person.
But I thought I should ask just so I know where I’m going to be killed before he dumps my body.
Just kidding. Kind of.
He cuts me a look. “I have a place here. We can talk there.”
Then, he stalks off through the lobby. I have to work my legs to keep up with his long strides.
Then, we’re out of the main hotel building, and I follow him through the gardens and toward the bungalows.
I haven’t been out here yet. I haven’t really had a chance to check out the hotel at all. It’s really pretty out here, and these bungalows must be expensive to rent.
“You live here all the time?” I ask from behind him, knowing that his studio is in Beverly Hills.
I wonder why he hasn’t gotten a house.
“During the week. I’m gone on weekends.”
Okay…I guess that’s all I’m getting.
We reach one of the larger bungalows. He seems to hesitate outside the door, almost as if he’s changed his mind about going inside with me.
Then, he seems to make his decision, and he unlocks the door, swinging it open.
Adam walks inside without a word or a look at me, leaving me standing outside.
All right then.
I take a deep breath and step inside, closing the door behind me.
He’s already taken his jacket off, and he is on the other side of the living space. By the looks of it, he’s pouring himself a drink.
Clasping my hands together, I edge a little farther into the room, not really sure what to do.
He throws back the whiskey he poured and then pours another. “You want one?” he asks.
“No, thank you.”
He turns to me, glass in hand. His index finger goes to his tie, and he loosens it before pulling it off and tossing it on the table. He undoes the top button on his shirt.
Eyes still on me, he takes another sip of his drink.
I move across a little and press my back to the wall, needing the support.
And we just stand here for a long time, saying nothing, with a world of pain seated right between us.
I know, in this moment, the years I’ve spent missing him feel like nothing in comparison to having him here before me yet so far away. I miss him now more than I have in all that time combined, and it hurts. Fuck, it hurts.
I look away, unable to look at him for a second longer, knowing if I do I’m going to break into pieces.
“You look exactly the same as you did.” His low words move across the room, touching my skin. “I hate that.” And those words pierce right in, burrowing deep.
I press a hand to my chest, trying to push the pain away. It doesn’t work.
“Why, Evie?” His words are soft but filled with pain.
I feel every ounce of his pain, and mixed with my own, it’s pure agony.
I part my dry lips, lifting my eyes to his face. But I can’t look him directly in the eyes. Looking at Adam is like staring into the sun.
“I…” I shake my head.
“Don’t say you don’t know because we both know you do.”
I feel like curling in on myself and dying.
I don’t want to have to lie to him. I’ve never been a good liar. And I’m afraid he’ll see through my lies now.
But I have to do this. I have no choice. I can’t tell him the truth. If I tell him that, he’ll hate me forever.
He already does hate you.
Taking a fortifying breath, I force my eyes to his. Shielding the truth behind them, I shut down. “It wasn’t working for me. You and me. I wasn’t happy, so I left.”
“Bullshit!” He slams his glass down on the table so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Evie. You owe me the truth. The least you owe me is that.”
The truth is a hard thing. He might think he wants the truth, but honestly, if he has it, I think he’d realize he never wanted it.
The truth can hurt, and this one would hurt him like a motherfucker.
Adam is well aware, more than most, at how low some people will go to get what they want, but this truth would show him an all new depth to that low. And it will also show him what others will do in the face of desperation.
“I’m not lying.” I’m going straight to hell.
I can’t even explain the level of anger I see crossing his face. It’s a rage I didn’t know existed in him.
I know Adam would never hurt me, but the way he’s looking at me right now makes me want to step back. Far back.
“You were happy.” His hard words come out through clenched teeth. “I saw it for myself. You married me, for fuck’s sake! So, don’t stand there and tell me that you weren’t happy. Just tell me the fucking truth!”
He’s not going to accept anything that I tell him, so maybe I have to be a bitch to give him the peace he needs on this.
“Was it Ava? Did she do something to make you leave?”
“No.”
“So what?” he yells, his hand pulling on his hair. “Was there—” He pauses, like a realization has just come to him. “Was there someone else?”
His words slap me across the face. But a second later, I realize they’ve given me the out I need. He’ll hate me for this, but if he thinks I left him for someone else, then he’ll have his reason, and I can go home and cry myself to sleep.
“Yes.”
He moves so quickly that I don’t get a chance to move away. In seconds, he’s in front of me, his hands pressing on the wall on either side of my head.
My heart starts to pound with stress and fear—and yes, desire. Having Adam this close to me after ten years is a lot to take. After spending as long as I have missing him, it’s hard to control my body’s natural reaction to him.
“You’re lying,” he hisses.
I swallow. I need him to get away from me, yet I also need him to never leave.
“What do you want from me?” My voice shakes betraying me.
His eyes narrow to slits. “The truth.”
“I gave it to you.”
“Yeah, but which is it, Evie? You weren’t happy, or you were cheating on me?”
Crap.
My chin wobbles. “Bo-both.”
Disgust covers his face. It makes me feel like shit.
He pushes off the wall, stepping away from me. I sag with relief, but part of my body screams for him to come back.
He leans against the sofa, eyes on the floor. “Who was he?” There’s no emotion in his quiet voice.
“No one you knew.”
He lifts his eyes to me. They’re laced with pain, and it nearly kills me. I have to press my lips together to hold it all in—the truth, and my tears.
“Are you still with him?”
I shake my head.
“Why did you leave Malibu?”
I take a breath. “I left with him because I knew you wouldn’t take it well.” Another lie.
He lets out a sardonic laugh. “What did you think I was going to do when you told me?”
I lift my shoulders. “I just…I didn’t want to hurt you.” It’s scaring me how easily these lies are falling from my mouth.
His eyes are fixed on mine. “Well, you failed. Because you did hurt me. You hurt me a fuck of a lot.”
I know, and I’m so sorry.
I look away, unable to hold his stare any longer.
“Why did your dad and Casey leave with you?”
My eyes flash back to his. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, Evie. Why did they leave with you? I get that you left with your lover boy, but why did they go? That makes no sense. Why would they have uprooted their lives to leave with you? Especially considering how things were with Casey, how sick she was.”
“They-they—I needed to get away, and they came with me. They’re my family.”
He rubs his fingers over his forehead.
Then, dropping his hand, he takes two big steps toward me. Leaning in, he says into my ear, “You’re a fucking liar.”
I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s his proximity or the fact that I can’t get him to believe my lies—yes, I’m well aware of how laughable that sounds—but I push my hands against his chest, shoving him away.
He doesn’t go far.
“Fuck you!” I yell. “I don’t know what the fuck you want from me, Adam, but clearly, I can’t give it to you!”
I turn to leave.
But he grabs my wrist, yanking me back. “The only thing I ever wanted was the truth, but you seem incapable of telling it to me.”
“I’ve told you the truth!” I scream. “I was young, and I made a mistake! I left you, and I can’t change that now! So, just”—I’m panting now—“let it go.”
He drops my arm like I’ve just burned him.
“Let it go.” His face is incredulous. Then, he does the strangest thing. He laughs. And I don’t mean a small laugh. I mean, a full-on belly laugh.
“Adam?” I say confused.
He looks at me. He’s laughing, but anger is still firmly fixed in his eyes. “Trust me, if I could have let it go, I would have fucking years ago.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but truthfully, I’m in the same position as him. I couldn’t let go either. I know, for him, it was for a different reason. He couldn’t let go of not knowing the truth, why I left him, whereas I couldn’t let go because I never could find a way to stop loving him. Our reasons may have differed, but ultimately, we were in the same position.
He rubs the laughter from his eyes and moves across the room. Picking his drink back up, he takes a long pull.
“Where have you been all this time?” He holds the glass to his chest.
“San Francisco.”
Shock flickers over his face. “I was in San Francisco three years ago. I thought I saw you.”
He was there? He saw me?
“But you were gone so quickly. I called my PI, but he couldn’t find any trace of you there. I thought I’d imagined it…you.”
“Your PI?”
Hard eyes lift to mine. “I looked for you, Evie, for a long time. I hired a PI, but he could never find you. It was like you’d dropped off the face of the earth. Did you change your name?”
His eyes go to the badge on my uniform that reads Evie.
“No, I didn’t change my name.”
“Your surname?”
“No. It stayed the same—Taylor. Evie Taylor.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Accusatory eyes flick up to mine. “So, why couldn’t my PI find you?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head, swallowing down.
Well, I can think of maybe one reason why he couldn’t find me, but I can’t share that with him.
He stares at me, before looking away. “It doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters to himself. “He even checked for Casey, and Casey would have had to register, at the very least, with a doctor.”
“He checked for Casey?” The words whoosh out of me, and my heart starts to pound.
“Of course he did. I was desperate to find you. I would have done anything back then to know where you were.”
His impassioned words are like a punch to the stomach.
Deep down I always thought he would try to look for me. But thinking and knowing are two very different things.
My eyes lower to the floor. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, Evie? For cheating on me, for leaving me, for the PI not being able to find you?”
“All of it.” I force my eyes back to him. “I should have handled it better. I didn’t, and I’m sorry.”
His eyes search my face, and then he turns away, staring out the window.
“Casey? Is she…?” He leaves the question opened ended, and I understand why. He doesn’t know that she’s fine. Healthy. Alive.
“She’s fine. Good. Better. She’s starting UCLA in the fall. She wants to be a nurse. That’s why we’re here.”
“So, she got better?” He turns slightly to look at me.
“Yes.”
“She was dying, Evie. And now she’s well. Is that why you left? To get some life-saving treatment for her?”
I press my lips together and shake my head.
“Then, why? It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes sense.” His voice implores, begging to me.
I look away. “Casey was dying. We got her some treatment, and we were beyond lucky that the treatment saved her life. But that had nothing to do with why I left.”
He looks back out the window.
He doesn’t say anything for a long time. I’m wondering if I should just leave when he does speak again.
“Do you still draw?” he asks in a soft voice.
“No.” I look down at my hands, entwining my fingers together.
“Why not?”
How do I tell him that leaving him was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and it broke me?
It broke everything inside of me, and I haven’t been able to draw since then. Every time I put the pencil to the paper, all I could see was his face, and I couldn’t bear the reminder of what I’d lost.
I don’t tell him. That’s the thing. I can’t ever tell him.
I let go of my hands and wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold in all the pain that’s threatening to spill out of me, and I just shake my head. “Do you still surf?” I ask him.
I look up to find he’s facing me, back against the window, eyes on me.
“Only on weekends.”
I guess things have changed so much for both of us. The dreams we had together never made it to fruition with us being apart.
We each became a slave to the choice I had to make.
My eyes rake over him as I remember the Adam I knew ten years ago and compare him to the Adam I see before me. The long hair is gone, replaced with cropped locks. The unshaven scruff on his face is still very much there though. At least some things haven’t changed.
“You cut your hair.”
“It has been ten years.”
“I know. I just…I remember a time when you said you’d never cut your hair.” A small smile touches my lips at the memory.
“Yeah, and I remember when you promised to love me till death do us part. Shit changes.”
My smile drops from my face. My cheeks sting like he’s just slapped me.
I deserved that. Doesn’t stop it from hurting like a bitch though.
I turn my cheek, forcing a blank expression onto my face. I don’t want him to see how injured I am by his words.
“How long was it going on for?” he asks me in a quiet voice.
I look back to him. “What?”
“With this other guy. How long were you seeing him behind my back?”
I can see how much it’s hurting him, thinking I cheated on him, and I hate hurting him. I don’t want him to think so very badly of me even though, in some ways, what I actually did was worse.
I blow out a breath. “There wasn’t any other guy, Adam. I’m sorry I lied about that. I guess I just said that because…I don’t know.” I shake my head. “You wanted a valid reason, and I didn’t have one to give you, other than…getting married…it was just too much too soon. I panicked, and I ran. I’m sorry. You wanted the truth. That’s it.”
And I guess, in a way, the truth is in some of those words. It was a lot, us getting married so young. But I never regretted it, not for one second, and I would still be married to him now, if I could be. And I did panic when faced with the decision I had to make. And I did run. So, what I said…it’s the best of the truth that I can give to him.
He stares at me for a long moment, so long that I don’t know what to do.
Then, he blinks his eyes free, blows out a breath as he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Okay.”
Okay? That’s it?
He isn’t questioning why I lied about cheating, and he seems to have accepted my reasoning. It makes me wonder why he’s taken it so easily.
Then, I realize that maybe he’s just tired of it all. Maybe he just sees that it’s time to let go of the past.
And I guess it’s time for me to leave.
“Okay,” I say, pushing off the wall. Gathering myself together, I turn to the door.
I reach for the handle and pause to look back at him.
I just want one more look before I leave.
He’s staring at me, too, a mixture of confusing emotions on his face.
“Good-bye, Adam.”
He holds my eyes for a moment, then, looks away. “Good-bye, Evie.”
There’s a power in his words. He’s saying the good-bye he didn’t get to say ten years ago.
Taking a deep breath, I hold in the tears fighting to break free, and I walk out and finally close the door on my past.