When I Was Yours

Casey and my night together is going to be a mini bachelorette party, consisting of Disney movies and eating candy. And I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

“I don’t have to go out.” Adam comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He smells freshly showered with aftershave.

Shoving the last of my dirty clothes into the laundry basket, I turn to him. I’m starting laundry before I leave because I’ve run out of clean work clothes, and I need some for tomorrow. On top of everything else, the washer at the apartment is broken.

He looks so handsome in his black shirt and blue jeans with his hair tied back from his face.

“No, go out, and have fun,” I tell him, lifting my hand to his face. I run my fingertips over his scruff.

“Well, at least let me drive you to the apartment before I go.” He turns his face into my hand, kissing my palm.

I glance at the clock on the wall, seeing the time. “You can’t. You’re going out soon. I need to put this laundry in the wash. Then, I’m gonna wait for it to finish, so I can throw it in the dryer. That way, it’ll be ready for me in the morning.”

“I can wait with you until it’s done.”

I let out a laugh. “There is no way that Max will wait an hour for my wash cycle to finish.” I press my hand to his chest. “It’s fine. I’ll get the bus.”

“I don’t like you getting the bus, and it’ll be dark out by then.”

“I know, but I’ll be fine. The stop is right outside. And Dad is going to meet me at the other end.”

He stares at me for a long moment. “Okay. But you’re gonna need these clothes in the morning?”

“Yeah, I’ll stop by before work, so I can get changed.”

“No, I’ll come to the apartment in the morning and bring your clothes to you. Then, I’ll drive you to work. Okay, wife?” He brushes his nose over mine, shifting closer.

“Yes, husband.” I grin, knowing the reaction I’ll get.

He groans, pushing his hips against mine. I can feel him getting hard already.

“God, hearing you say that…”

“I know.” I slip my hands around his back.

“Hey, fucker!” We hear Max’s voice yell up the stairs. “Taxi’s here!”

Adam lets out a sigh and then releases me.

I pick up the laundry bag, but he takes it from me, and I follow him downstairs.

Max is already outside, heading for the taxi, and the front door is open.

“Where are you meeting Grady and the guys?” I ask Adam.

“Duke’s,” he tells me. “Gonna grab something to eat first and then hit up some bars.”

“Well, have fun.”

“I’ll try.” He puts the laundry bag down and wraps his arms around me. “But it’ll be hard without you there.”

He presses his lips to mine, kissing me deep. I wrap my arms around his neck.

Breaking off, breathing heavily, he presses his forehead to mine. “Change of plans tomorrow. I’ll come pick you up earlier. You can get changed here—after I’ve finished making love to you. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Put her down, and hurry the fuck up, Gunner!” Max shouts from the taxi. “I have some serious drinking to do and you’re wasting precious time! You’re gonna see her again in a few hours, for fuck’s sake!”

Adam glances out the door at Max. He lifts a finger, signaling a minute.

He looks back to me. “So, I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You will.”

He kisses me one last time. Then, he lets me go.

“Tomorrow morning. You and me, naked.” He grins, stepping back through the open door.

I hold on to the edge of the door, leaning against it. “It’s a date.”

“Love you, Mrs. Gunner.”

“Love you, too, husband.” I smile as I enunciate the word, knowing what it does to him.

He lets out a groan before he turns away and gets into the taxi.

I watch them go, waving at them, before shutting the door.

I grab my bag of laundry and lug it to the laundry room.

Laundry is on, and I’m sitting out on the patio, sketching on a piece of paper I grabbed from Adam’s printer and a pencil I found lying next to it because I’m too lazy to go upstairs and grab my sketchpad from his bedroom. I’m catching the last of the day’s light before night draws in.

I hardly get a chance to draw anymore, so this is a nice change.

I’m doing a sketch of Adam. It’s of him looking back at me, right before he got into the taxi.

I have Adam all drawn, and I’m working on the back outline when I hear the doorbell ring.

Putting the paper down, I make my way through the house to the front door.

Reaching up on my tiptoes, I check the peephole, and my breath catches.

I take a step back.

What is she doing here? With everything I have going on at the moment, I could really do without having to deal with her.

Preparing myself I take a fortifying breath, then, I unlock the door and pull it open to the sight of Ava Gunner.

“Evie.” She smiles, but it’s as fake as every part of her.

“Adam isn’t here.” My tone is cool. I can’t help it. I hate the way she’s treated Adam, and I’m not going to pretend it’s okay, or that I like her.

“I know. I came to see you.”

I freeze. “Why?”

“We have things to discuss.”

I give a confused look. “I don’t think you and I have anything to discuss.”

“Oh, we do.”

Tired of this already, I say, “Seriously, we don’t. Now, if you don’t mind.” I go to close the door, but she presses a hand to it, stopping me.

That pisses me off. My eyes flicker to the large man standing by the limousine, who is watching our interaction with hawk-like eyes.

I bring my stare back to Ava. “Look”—I lower my voice—“I know you’re a big Hollywood star, and you’re used to having people do as you say, but I’m not one of them.”

“Really?” She tsks. “Is that any way to speak to your new mother?”

I scoff. “You’re not my mother. You’re barely Adam’s mother.”

“Evie, I’m not here to pick a fight with you. I’m here because I have a proposition for you.”

“And I’m positive that whatever you have to say, I definitely do not want to hear it.”

I’m just about to slam the door in her face when she says, “Not even if it could save your sister’s life?”

I stop the door and blankly stare back at her. “Is that a threat?”

“No. On the contrary, I’m offering a way to help save Casey. I know she’s dying. The chemotherapy didn’t work, and the doctor has stopped her treatment.”

Pain starts to crawl up my throat. “How do you know all of this?” My words are quiet, sore.

“I make it my business to know everything, especially when it comes to my son.”

“You don’t know everything.” I fold my arms, defiant. “You didn’t know we were married until he told you a few days ago, days after we had gotten married.” My words are petty, but I’m not exactly feeling mature right now.