THE FOOD IN my mouth is tasteless. It has nothing to do with the new cook my parents hired and everything to do with how I’ve been feeling ever since what happened with Brock. It’s been twenty-four hours since I had sex with him, twenty-four hours without sleep and either replaying what happened in my head or wondering how it’s going to be tomorrow at work.
I can’t remember the last time we spent twenty-four hours without contact.
“Adeline?’’
I snap to attention and force a smile on my face. It’s not an easy fit when you’re frowning.
My mother, a healthy looking sixty-four woman with her hair dyed blond, a color she favored years ago when it became apparent that it’d be easier to hide her graying hair, and her blue eyes I inherited from her, is not one to get ignored, even less so by her daughter.
My father, sitting next to her, is more subdued, but his brown eyes are even more calculating. Unfortunately, it’s a trait he also has when with his family and not just at the office. I can’t remember how many time he used his skills to make me chew up everything that was going on in my teenage life back then. Even though he’s three years older than my mother, he’s still every bit the active man he’s always been. Granted, now his hair isn’t a mahogany mane it used to, but his snowy mane doesn’t diminish the aura he’s always shown. In fact, in my opinion, he’s more impressive.
My parents share a wordless look before they both focus back on me. I sigh discreetly and abandon my meal. After all, I’m not hungry. I put my fork and knife in my half-eaten plate and take a sip of the French red wine—a Bordeaux I adore—to both gather liquid courage and stall a little more.
“You’ve been very subdued. Do you have anything to tell me about the company?’’ my father asks with a calm voice, but the straight line of his mouth shows how anxious he is. The family company is all his life, a legacy he inherited from my grandfather decades ago. While he has confidence in me—after all, I studied at a top-notch college to be prepared and take over Cox Company—he still is afraid that something will ruin all we have and everything that makes the Cox name our legacy.
“I’m pretty sure that it has nothing to do with work, Malcolm.’’ She smiles around her glass of wine. She wipes her mouth with her cream-colored napkin. “You look like you have man trouble.’’
I remain in my chair by some miracle, and I owe it to my very tight control over my emotions otherwise I’d be either choking to death or sprawled on the floor from sheer surprise. Instead, I ball my napkin in my tight fists under cover of the table.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.’’
My father scoffs and shares a smile with my all too seeing mother. These two are insufferable when they gang up on me. They should have produced another little Cox to give me a breather once in a while.
“With such a comeback I know your mother nailed this one.’’ He sips the last of his glass of wine and tugs on the sleeve of his black pressed shirt.
I purse my lips and frown deeper. “It’s not man trouble per see. It’s more of a best friend trouble.’’
“What happened with Brock?’’ My mother presses me, her frown deepening the lines marking the years on her face. Even my father seems more concerned now. They care deeply about Brock and his parents are longtime friends too, so that makes him family.
Family.
God, I think I’m going to throw up if I refer to him as family. After what happened yesterday? After how much I enjoyed what happened yesterday?
I rub my left temple and put my elbows on the table. My mother tsks at me. I arch an eyebrow, silently asking her what’s wrong. She points at me. “Elbows off the table.’’
“Seriously, Mom?’’
My father covers his chuckle with a very unnatural cough that has my mother smiling again. I shake my head at them and sit straighter, keeping my elbows away from the table.
“Aren’t you going to tell us what is the issue with Brock?’’
“Nothing that bad. You’re too nosy, Mom.’’
“I’m not nosy, Adeline. I care about you, and about Brock. You two have always been attached at the hip, and I don’t want your damn pride to ruin a wonderful friendship.’’
“Why do you assume that it’s my fault!’’ I try to find help from my father, but he quickly shakes his head at me. Of course, he wouldn’t risk my mother’s wrath to defend me here. Dad might be a shark when it comes to business, but at home, there is no question as to who wears the pants. At least, most of the time.
She gives a tiny shrug and waves a hand at me, her wedding ring of a beautiful diamond with a princess cut surrounded by small sapphires on a platinum band shines brightly. “We all know how you are, and Brock would never let a fight go. He’d apologize before it ended.’’
My shoulders slump, and I sigh. My father’s cell phone rings and he apologizes to leave us to our talk, probably already bored. I watch him go while his calm voice full of authority echoes around the room.
I glance back at my mother. She is staring intently in her glass of sparkling water, her blue eyes lost into her thoughts. I extend my hand and put it on hers. She smiles softly at me.
“Brock and I had a fight. I think.’’
“You think? Honey, if you don’t tell me what happened, I won’t be able to help you.’’
I chuckle under my breath at the mere thought of telling my mother about the hot sex I had on my couch with my best friend. “I don’t need help. I’m just bothered. We rarely fight and…’’
“You don’t know how to makes things right? For once you’re willing to do something, and it’s a big step.’’
“I can’t exactly ignore the fact that if we’re in this mess, it’s my fault.’’ Under the table, I put a hand on my stomach. For all I know, I might be pregnant. The thought alone has my heart speeding.
“Maybe you were right when you said that I’m nosy because I do want to know what is going on,’’ she says with pursed lips as if disappointed in herself.
“In your shoes, I’d be prying too.’’
She tilts her head to one side and fishes her phone in the pocket of her red jacket. “I saw Brock’s mother this morning. Julia was coming back from the florist, and she told me that he was coming for lunch. Let me call her and invite them for coffee. That way it’ll give you a chance to make things right before tomorrow.’’
“It’s not that a good idea. I’d prefer to have that kind of talk in private.’’
“It’s either here or at work. At least here you know that you’ll only have Julia and me to worry about when it comes to gossips. At work? You can’t keep track.’’
Having my mother taking charge my life like this is pathetic. When I was a kid it was welcomed, but at twenty-seven? I look down on my lap and let her do what she thinks will help. But it’s not going to help. How awkward will it be to see Brock in front of our families after everything? A blush rises to my cheeks, and I can feel my mother’s eyes on me, probably wondering what’s the matter with me. If only I knew!
I space out while she chats away with Julia and only comes back to earth when she makes a show of putting down her phone next to her empty plate.
“What?’’
She taps her red nails on the table, her eyes fixed on me. “Nothing. They’ll be here in half an hour. You should freshen up and think about how you’ll apologize to poor Brock.’’
I stand up and grit my teeth.
This poor innocent Brock had crazy, sweaty sex with me! I should be the one qualified as poor. I push my chair back against the table and walk out toward the music room. It’s quite snobby of a name, but there is a piano there, the same piano both my father and I learned to play. Every time I come here for lunch, I play at least one tune. It’s very relaxing, and right now it’s exactly what I need.
At one point during my rebellious teenage years, I wanted to go to Juilliard and play the piano for a living. My father almost had a stroke at the news, and my mother just took it in stride. But it was just a phase, and I grew out of it fast. Though, I still enjoy the piano, running my fingers over the keys and letting the music flow through my body, relaxing every cell and muscle.
I open the door, the wood cracks before it gives in. Inside, the soft sun rays brighten the decent sized room in the middle of which the black piano sits, along with the small bench made of wood and black leather. I close the door behind me and take the seat. I open the piano and exercise my fingers over the keys, trying to loosen them before I start playing Für Elise, the piece I have always been attracted to.
The waves of the piece take me away until I reach the fast successions of notes, the ones it took me months to master when I was a kid and I breeze through them. I close my eyes and picture the notes in my head, my fingers reaching them. My arms tense in some parts until the end comes near and I slow the pace. I press the final key and sigh as I finally open my eyes.
“I’ve always loved watching you play.’’
I turn to the door and find Brock leaning against the wall. With his jeans riding low on his narrow hips and his brown sweater, he makes me think of the Brock of our old days, but the unreadable look on his face says something else.
I stand up and close the piano with shaking hands. Feeling weak isn’t something I’m used to, but I push it away and walk to Brock. “My mother sent you, right?’’
“She told me that you have something to tell me.’’ He fidgets with his watch, and I smile softly at the display of his nerves. He’s not as cool as he wants me to believe. After all, we’re not best friends for nothing, we both know every little telltale sign of each other. “Go ahead.’’
“Do you hate me?’’ My voice is barely a whisper in the quiet room. I look at the yellow wallpaper above his shoulder, unable to see the truth in his eyes. I don’t want to know how much he resents me, but if I want to make things right, I have to. I’m the one who chased him out of my place, not the other way around.
I see him move toward me and I stay put, unsure of his next move. When his hand cups my cheek, my eyes water. He's so soft, so careful of me as if I could disappear into thin air or break into millions of pieces. I don’t deserve such care right now.
But when the warmth of his palm registers in my brain, tingles come in waves, assaulting me relentlessly until I lock eyes with him. The golden-brown of his irises renders me helpless. He hasn’t shaved since I last saw him and it gives him an edgier image that suits him perfectly. Usually, it’s something I’d notice but would overlook, not today. Today, I want to feel the bristle on his face against my skin.
It all changed.
“I can’t hate you. Even when I’m mad at you, I don’t hate you, Addy,’’ he says equally soft, his deep voice rumbling around me.
I tilt my head in his palm and nod, a wobbly smile stretching my lips. “I’m so sorry for how I handled things yesterday. I freaked out.’’
He pulls his hand away and engulfs me in a bear hug. I quickly wound my arms around his narrow waist, pushing my face into his chest. He runs a hand up and down my back while another caresses my hair in a soothing way he’s always done whenever I was upset. “I didn’t handle it well either. I—‘’ he trails off and suddenly breaks the hug, stepping back.
I glance at the space between us, uneasiness creeping back in me. “You what?’’
He runs a hand along his jaw, and I hear the sound of his scruff scratching the pads of his fingers in the quiet room. “I never imagined it would be so intense to be with you.’’ He lets his eyes roam over me, stopping at my parted lips. “You made me lose it.’’
My heart races in my chest. The hair on the nape of my neck stands up, and my skin tingles even more. I gulp and smile ruefully at him in order to hide how messed up I truly feel right now. You’d think that I’m a freshly deflowered girl facing her guy. “Let’s forget that weird weekend.’’
“Don’t you want to stroke my male ego before we bury this topic?’’
I chuckle at his crooked smile, and finally, let go of the remnants of lust that was there seconds ago. “You don’t need me. Call one of your girls, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to do it.’’
He rolls his eyes and grabs my elbow, leading me out of the music room and back to where I can hear our parents chatting and laughing in the living room. “There are two women I value their words. You and my mother. Always.’’
I pinch his side and laugh at the scowl he sends me. He’s always been ticklish. “You’re an amazing best friend, Brock. I can’t imagine ever losing you.’’
He stops us just before we join our respective parents in the living room and faces me. “I will never turn my back on you, Addy.’’ His devilish smirk reappears, then. “And I don’t want to get my boss mad at me.’’
“You love working with me.’’
He nods and puts one of his big arms around my shoulders to steer me to our families now watching us with amused smiles on their faces. “True, little tyrant.’’
I shake my head and laugh, happy to have him back, but I can’t shake off the feeling telling me that it’s too easy.
If there is one thing I know for sure, something I was taught over the years, is that only one-night stands with random people can’t have an impact on your life. As soon as you add sex in a relationship, no matter which type of relationship, things change.
And I have about ten days to wait before I can do a pregnancy test.
I look at Brock and imagine having a baby that would be as much mine as it’d be his. I’m pretty sure that if the test is positive, he’ll never look at me like he does now. I don’t want things to change, not if it puts distance between us. Especially if it puts distance between us.