Chapter Thirty-Seven

That's someone knocking on the door.

I wake wrapped in the soft, delicious comforter of the red room bed, my right leg and right arm dropped across Adam's body. Someone's skin feels warm and sticky, I don't know if it's his or mine, but I can't remember the last time I've been this relaxed and cozy.

"Vienna?" Francesca calls from the other side of the door.

I push myself upright. "Oh my God, that's Fran."

"Hmm?" Adam groans, eyes closed. His arm reaches for me, but I push it away and shake his shoulder.

"Wake up!"

Finally, he opens his eyes as another demanding knock bangs on the door. "Don't let her in," he grumbles. He rolls onto his side. His face smushes into a pillow.

I whisper, "She won't go away, and she will want to come into the room."

My frantic hands pull back the covers, and Adam hisses when the air touches his cold, bare body.

"Get under the bed," I demand, crawling to my feet.

"No." He sits up on his elbows. "That's insane."

My phone rings and Francesca simultaneously shouts, "I hear your phone ringing. I've looked everywhere for you. I know you're in there! I'm going to call the fire department if you don't answer."

Adam gives me an exhausted look and rolls himself to the ground, scooting underneath the bright red bed skirt.

I announce, "Fran, what do you want?"

"Open the door!"

"No."

" Why ?"

Glancing down at the goose pimples on my chilly exposed body, I reply, "Well…I'm naked."

A snort of laughter under the bed.

A pause on the other side of the door. "Then put something on and open the door," she says.

I collect the robe from a chair, my pajamas and underwear strewn on the floor with Adam's smokey jeans, shirt, and jacket. I can't let her in here and she'll break down the door faster than I can clean this up. After tying the sash around my covered body, I open the door.

She backs up as I step out into the hallway and shut the door behind me.

"What's up?" I ask, trying to control my breathing.

Her eyes narrow. She's dressed for the day, her makeup's on, and her bag sits on the outside of her door. "You slept in. You never sleep in."

"I drank too much last night," I lie. "Needed to sleep it off."

She's not buying it. "Uh-huh. Sure ."

I cross my arms across the robe and nod at a couple walking down the hallway, doubting this is the scene Mackenzie envisions for his establishment.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Nine," she answers.

" Nine ?" Wow. I did not expect that.

"Breakfast is served until ten, so you'd better get a move on. The kids are getting antsy so we're going to run around outside for a little bit." Her neck cranes down the hallway. "We haven't seen Adam this morning, either. Do you know what room he's in?"

I pretend to think about it. "Um, I think the gray room?"

Please don't let there be a gray room she can pound on the door of.

Francesca carefully rubs the inner corner of her eye and says, "Well, we might just end up going home. I've got to get the turkey in the oven and Grayson wants to watch the parade. The girls are with us too, so you find Adam and you two come head back in your car, okay?"

"Sounds good."

"Why are you all of a sudden giving me thumbs up?"

I notice my finger placement and raised arm. I drop them both. "Sorry."

"Whatever, weirdo." She picks up her bag and heads toward the stairs. She stops. "Oh, hey, did you get a call from Dad last night?"

"I haven't looked at my phone."

"Weird, he called me, but he didn't leave a message," she says.

"Maybe he realized it was Thanksgiving," I suggest. It's still an out-of-character phone call.

She shrugs. "I'll call him back later. See you at home."

I wave goodbye and sneak back into the room. "You can come out now," I tell Adam.

There's a rustle of fabric, the fallen sheets flying into the air as Adam struggles to scoot out from under the bed. He winces, standing. "Ow. I think I bruised my shoulder."

"Sorry about that. I guess you could have just hid in the bathroom."

"You think?" He smirks. "Don't forget that gesture. Apparently I just do whatever you tell me to do."

I walk over and touch the top of his shoulder, replacing his hand, lightly massaging the spot. Under this robe, my skin might be as on fire as I feel inside. I have Adam, naked in front of me, eyeing me as though I'm a four-course meal and he's famished.

"Did you get rid of her?" he asks, his voice low.

My breath shakes, hand running along the front of his chest, twirling in dark curls. "Yes. She said breakfast ends in an hour and they're all going home now. You and I can go back whenever we want."

"We've got an hour?" Adam tilts his head.

"Yes."

"Just one?"

"In this room, at least. I'm sure there's a broom closet somewhere."

"Good." He plucks a kiss from my lips. "I'm not much of a breakfast person anyway."

"I saw a McDonald's on the way here." I clasp my hands around his neck.

He closes his eyes, "Vienna, you shouldn't eat that kind of junk."

"I like clown food, sue me."

His hand slips into my robe and around my back, pulling him to me, scooping up my bottom. "I do like the idea of us being here all alone . And in a car, all alone ."

"We can do whatever we want," I say, my breath hitching as his hand moves.

"You're way less inhibited now than you were at eighteen."

"Are you slut-shaming me?" I breathe.

Adam's mouth is hot on my neck. "Just an observation," he mutters, scooping me off my toes and falling, taking me onto the bed with him.

We're dressed and packed. As Adam and I begin to walk down the stairs, he takes my bag from me and folds his fingers into mine. We exchange a smile, knowing that no one here cares about us holding hands. We look like any other loved-up couple.

Mackenzie looks up as we reach the check-in counter.

"Well, well," he says with a smirk. "It looked like that one room worked out for the best."

My cheeks burn red, and Adam says, "All right, all right, you made your point. Sly move."

"Sly move?" I repeat. Then, I'm suddenly in on the joke.

Mackenzie apologies, "I'm sorry, but I had to give my guy a little support. Call me Cupid. I love love . I wanted to help."

Adam checks to see if I'm offended or angry, but I can't help but laugh. "You're a hell of a wingman," I say. For us both, I want to add.

"He doesn't get all the credit for bringing us together," Adam argues. He bends over and kisses me. "They should give out trophies for what I did –"

" Adam ," I snarl before he says anything else.

He breaks into a grin. He tears his eyes from mine and shakes Mackenzie's hand. "Thank you for everything, Mac, this was incredible."

"I'm glad you had a good time." Mackenzie mentions to the valet about my car. "And Vienna – thank you so much for the cookies. They're amazing ."

He points to a basket by the entrance where my cookies have all been placed in plastic bags and stacked delicately in rows, and says, "I had no idea you were going to do that in the kitchen, I thought you just baked for fun. Can I get your contacts? I'd love for you to make some more for our opening weekend, maybe even the Christmas festival we're hosting in a few weeks."

I put up a hand and argue, "Oh, I don't do this for a business. I'm not a professional –"

"I'll text you her information," Adam interrupts. He pulls me to him and squeezes my shoulder. We say goodbye to Mackenzie and walk outside to wait for my car.

"I can't make cookies for an event," I say.

"You just did," he counters.

That's kind of true.

I always imagined myself in a building with a cute name on it, filling my counter with cakes and cookies and muffins. However, the idea of spending a day decorating cookies to celebrate big events and milestones, watching them be devoured by kids and families, ignites a little spark inside.

"So, when do we tell them back at the lake?" Adam asks.

"About my cookies?"

"About us ."

I switch my brain to the other topic in my mind. Adam's reached for my hand again, as though we might get lost from each other in a crowd. He's probably as excited about this little action as I am, seeing as we've had few opportunities to be affectionate in public.

"It's Thanksgiving." I lay out my thoughts. "I think it would be weird for everybody to find out today."

My car comes around, and Adam tips the valet and puts our bags in the backseat. I collect my keys and climb into the driver's seat.

He's being quiet.

"Tell me what you think, please," I insist.

"I understand." He sighs. "We'll do whatever you want." He buckles his seatbelt, and I drive out of the long driveway.

I glance sidelong. "I want to tell them. We are going to tell them. It's just…"

With Francesca, things need to be handled delicately because I never know how she will respond. If she doesn't take this well, for whatever reason, the entire day is ruined. I wouldn't just be telling her that Adam and I are seeing each other, I'd be telling her that we snuck around, and I kept it secret for fourteen years.

Adam sits up in his chair. "I will do whatever you want, Vee." He picks up my right hand and kisses my palm. "Both today and tomorrow ."

"Tomorrow." I roll the word on my tongue, sensing what the future feels like.

"I was originally heading back to Chicago on Sunday. I've got a few days until I have to be back in the studio." His voice breaks with nervousness when he says, "But I don't have to go back on Sunday."

I frown, focusing above my steering wheel. "I have to be back in Atlanta on Monday."

"I know."

I look at Adam looking at me. "Do you want to come stay with me in Atlanta for a few days?"

He claps his hands. "Well, what a lovely idea, Vienna! I would love to, thank you for inviting me." He smiles. "But you misspoke. I'm not coming to visit you ."

"Oh?"

"The words you're looking for are ‘shack up.' As in, Adam would you like to shack up with me in Atlanta for a few days."

The image he conjured makes my stomach feel loopy. The two of us putting up my Christmas tree, eating takeout, keeping each other warm in my full-sized bed. "Yes. I like that phrasing better, too."

He asks, "Is it okay if I bring Copper? Maggie can watch him for me, if not."

I think about Amber prancing through my apartment, her sweet face looking up at me when her head snuggled into the comforter. The pang of pain I felt for months when the clock read 5:30 and she wasn't there to whine at the pantry for her dinner.

" Please bring him," I tell Adam.

The thirty-minute drives go by too fast. Even with me driving as slowly as possible to soak in every moment that Adam stares at me, touches some part of my shoulder or leg, and admonishes me for insisting we wait in a backwoods McDonald's drive-thru for sustenance.

"Is this even a town?" he chides, looking around at the gas station on one side and the farmland on the other. "Okay, that's a child who just walked by. They have children working here."

I take my hash browns with a thank you very much and explain what I've learned in the last year. "We're old, my friend. Everyone looks like a child to us because we still think we're twenty-five."

"I am twenty-five," he says. "I refuse to believe anything different."

We stop in Loxley on our way home to buy Maggie brown sugar for her sweet potatoes. I try to tell Adam she could use what I have at the house, but he insists we buy some. After several minutes of handholding and slowly taking the scenic tour of the market interior, plus a briefly graphic make-out in the bathroom hallway, I tell Adam, "I have to go home, now. I have pies to make!"

He groans in disagreement but lets us get back in the car. He kisses me goodbye at the stop sign before I pull into the driveway.

Adam requests, "Sit beside me at dinner."

"Um, no."

"Why?"

To his amused face, I say, "Because you'll put your hands on me under the table, I won't be able to get through the meal and the children will be scarred. Think of the children. This is a family holiday. It should be kept clean."

Adam thinks for a moment. No argument must have come to mind.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But will you come to bed with me tonight? I can't fuck you in your house with all those people in there. Grayson's already suspicious."

I watch his fingers twirl around mine. "What are you talking about?"

"When we were in the bathroom last night. He kept asking about love." He glances up from under his eyebrows. "I wondered if it had something to do with the separation. He asked about the rock I carved."

"Oh."

Francesca and David tried so hard to not let the kids be affected by the break, but how could they not? Their dad moved out for months and now suddenly they're one big happy family. He's probably suffering a little bit of whiplash.

I ask Adam, "What did you tell him?"

He shrugs, kissing my knuckles. "I told him I didn't know much, but I write songs about love. I told him love is something you express. When you love someone you have to show them. Do stuff for them. That's why I carved you that rock."

"Is that your way of saying that your love language is gifts ?" I joke.

Adam's very serious. "It's my way of saying that it's not enough to just have feelings. I need to know that I can love you, Vienna, in action. And that…well…" He drifts off, but I know what he's saying.

That I will love him with my actions, too.

A few steps behind him, I offer a soft, chaste kiss on lips and run my palm over his smooth cheek. He's going to need a lot of assurances from me after I hurt him last time. This is just moving a little faster than I can comprehend.

Without me saying a word, Adam finds my eye and nods. "I know." His forehead leans against mine. "I know. I'll take it slow."

He kisses me again, and I can tell this one is supposed to take up some time, but I push him away insisting that someone will come outside any second. Adam walks hesitantly back to his house with several final looks over his shoulder.

I press my fingers into my cheeks, trying to hide my giddy smile. My chest feels light. My stomach fluttery. I'm still in a little bit of shock that this is happening between us.

But it's a good kind of shock.

Inside the house, the kids and Caroline watch Santa Claus wave out the parade. Kate's busy on her phone. I bake a pumpkin pie and a pecan pie while David keeps an eye on his turkey, green beans, and rolls. Maggie and Diego have been tasked with their sides, and Adam said he's got wine covered.

I'll feel tipsy just having him within arm's length of me.

Francesca calls out from the living room, "Y'all come look at this dog! This is the cutest dog I've ever seen. He better win this thing. If they give it to another Scottish Deerhound or terrier, I swear to God, I'm going to send a strongly-worded letter."

With the pies finished, I go upstairs to get ready for dinner. As disappointed as Adam was, I'm glad we're not telling them about us today. I couldn't handle his handsyness and their scrutiny, the whole thing would be too uncomfortable. Sneaking around like we did for months felt kind of hot. I don't mind one more day of that.

The back door opens and check my watch. The neighbors will be here any minute. I bounce down the stairs in my brown sweater dress, my mother's bracelet swinging. "It smells amazing Dave –"

I stop at the bottom of the stairs.

" Dad ," I gawk. "Heddy?"

My dad stands in front of the door in a suit, his long black coat reaching the ground. His hair is grayer, his beard whiter than I last saw him, which was probably last Christmas. His ice-blue eyes stare off down the hallway. He's probably searching for the kids. He likes them .

"Vee Vee!" Heddy gushes, coming up to hug me.

My hands press into her frayed patchwork quilted coat and mutter, "What are you guys doing here?"

"You and your sister don't answer your phones," my dad snaps. He's still frozen to the spot.

Heddy pulls back with wide, warning eyes. "Your dad called me, and I explained that you girls were at the lake this week and he wanted to come up and surprise you."

"I'm surprised," I say.

She turns over her shoulder and says, "Alex, take off your coat and relax a little, you look like you're here to help with my taxes."

Little bare feet smack on the floor. "Grandpa!" Alice screams.

My dad's expression shifts, he's capable of that, and he bends down to scoop her up in his arms. He's not overly affectionate, not the grandpa that will take them fishing or plop them on his shoulders, but he's softer with them than he was ever with me and Francesca.

Grayson soon follows with David, who shakes my dad's hand with the firmness of a son-in-law and an employee. Francesca fixes the sleeve of her blouse. "Daddy?" she wonders.

"Dad and Heddy have come to surprise us for Thanksgiving," I tell her. "Isn't that fun?"

My dad's eyes meet mine. Then, he looks at my feet. He could never look me too long in the eye, and I hoped it had something to do with my mother's face, her green eyes and light hair, projected onto me.

He grumbles, "I'm going to get a drink. When's dinner?"

"Any minute," David answers.

I gasp, clapping a hand over my mouth. Adam will be here soon. At the dining room table. With my father.

Fourteen years ago, I had called Heddy to tell her Adam and I were going to the courthouse in Starling, since Loxley didn't have one, and we were going to get married. Francesca and David had gone home that day to get their things out of storage before moving to Boston.

I don't know why I called Heddy. If I had been dead set on marrying him, I would have gone through with it. I pretended it was an exciting phone call, but I wanted her reassurance and guidance. Which I got, along with my father, later that day.

They sat across from Adam and me.

"Where are your parents?" My dad demanded.

Adam held his head high. "They have appointments in Atlanta." He adds, "I'm an adult, I don't need my parents' permission to make decisions."

I dropped my head. I didn't feel like an adult.

"Vienna is barely eighteen," my dad said. "She's going to college next week."

Adam defied, "No. We're going to get married tomorrow, and she's coming to Nashville with me."

" Excuse me ?" I'd never heard my dad so angry or shocked.

"We are adults. We know what we're doing. I love her."

"Shut your goddamn mouth, you little shit," my dad began, but Heddy cut him off.

She put her hands between them physically and said, "Okay, calm down. Everybody. Vienna…honey, what do you want?"

I remember my mouth went dry. I felt sick. Everyone looked at me and wanted different things from me. I peered up at Adam's waiting face and whimpered, "I don't know."

He looked shocked, his air of false bravado crumbled. "What are you talking about? We have a plan ."

"I just, I don't know what to do. Maybe we need to think about this some more."

I know tears started to fall and my dad began to rip into Adam about his stupid dreams, but all I could focus on was Adam's sunken shoulders, his eyes bearing into the wood coffee table, his face pale.

I reached for his hand. He pulled it away. I'd never had such a worse day. I still have never.

Well, there's always today.

Heddy takes my arm, her cold hands wrapping around mine. She pulls me into the hallway and into the laundry room. "Breathe," she says.

I put my hand on my chest. "Adam's here," I say.

"I know." She nods. "Fran called me yesterday and told me how much time you've all been spending together and so when Alex called me, I knew he couldn't come in this house without a buffer."

"Did you tell him Adam is coming to dinner?"

She tucks my hair back and runs her arms along my shoulders. "I did. And I warned him not to say anything about that day, to act like he just met the boy, and to not cause a scene."

"He's not a boy anymore, Heddy," I respond.

Her expression shifts. She might not know what happened between Adam and me last night, but she's guessing.

"I need to warn him," I decide, rushing out of the house.

I hurry, my sock-covered feet on grass and acorns, toward his house and meet Maggie and Diego and their dishes crossing the woods. I slow down and they give me confused looks.

"Happy Thanksgiving!" I say.

Maggie looks at my feet. "Where are your shoes?"

I ignore that, asking, "Where is Adam?"

Just then, their door shuts, and his boots scrape the wood as he rushes down the porch stairs with two bottles of wine. "I'm coming, I'm coming," he calls out with a smile on his face.

His grin is so big when he sees me, his navy cable knit sweater so in need of hugging, that I feel Grinch-worthy when his bubble is burst.

"What's wrong?" he asks, coming up to me.

I say to Maggie and Diego, "I need to talk to Adam for a minute." I take the wine bottles from his hands and lay them on top of the aluminum foiled platter in Diego's arms. He makes a disgruntled sound.

I grab Adam's hands and walk him back into the woods, turning so my eyes are on my house.

"Vienna, your feet."

I wince when I step on a gumball. "Okay, um, so –"

He squeezes my hands. "What's going on?

I bite my lip. "My dad is here."

Adam's eyes narrow. He looks right, to our driveway, and notices the black car parked behind mine. His grip relaxes. "Oh," is all he says.

"He knows you're here and he told Heddy he wouldn't make a scene."

"Heddy's here too?"

"Yeah." I search his face. "You don't have to come inside if it's too uncomfortable."

He snaps his gaze back to mine. "Of course, I'm coming inside, I have nothing to be ashamed of."

"I just meant…I know he wasn't the easiest on you that day."

"That was a long time ago." Adam's spine straightens, and his jaw tightens. "I don't care what he says to me now. He thought I was going to be a giant failure, and I'm not . I'm proud of who I became."

They were my father's words, but I feel responsible for them. I sink into myself, dropping my hands. "You should be."

That day, I knew the minute I didn't jump in and defend Adam against my dad's vitriol that he would think less of me. I should have argued against the accusations of him being stupid and childish and destined to struggle, but I just sat there and listened to it, scared out of my mind. Adam let himself get yelled at for me. He shouldn't have to face my dad again.

Suddenly, Adam swings his arms around me and picks me up, propping my feet atop his. I get up on my toes and wrap my arms around his head, our faces aligned.

He says, "It's one dinner. It's going to be fine."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask.

He kisses me gently. "Yes." He keeps me tight and walks forward until reaching the grass where he lets me go, thankfully, before someone sees, and this Thanksgiving starts with a bang.