Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I creep down the stairway careful not to wake Andy.

As I reach the landing, Julian stands in the living room near the mantel, holding a picture of Elijah and me on our wedding day. I’m not prepared for Julian to be in my home, my conscience is smothered in guilt. It feels disrespectful. I still remember the day Elijah and I moved in. It feels like only yesterday we were making plans, and it all revolved around this house and our family. Now, here stands a different man, one I am romantically linked with standing patiently in this house, and I’m unable to string a sentence together, conflicted with emotions of guilt and the fact that I’ve missed Julian more than I realized.

He hears my footsteps and is quick to turn around, still clutching the frame.

“You looked beautiful on your wedding day, Adriana. Ethereal, in fact. Very happy.” He doesn’t make eye contact, and his smile fades as he places the picture back on the mantel.

“I was.” I fidget with the pocket of my dress, uncomfortable with the conversation. Everything about this house represents my marriage. Every room, every piece of furniture is attached to a memory. They may be buried for now, but occasionally, they resurface and that part of me which tries to move on, takes a step back.

“Does it bother you that I have these photos lying around?”

“Bother me? No, he was your life,” he mumbles.

His eyes move toward the countless frames which sit on top of the mantel. Several are of Elijah, many of Andy, and, of course, a few including Charlie and Lex.

When his eyes stumble upon our family photograph, they quickly divert, piquing my interest. Does it still bother him to see them together? I need to stop asking the question. I know perfectly well if I ask, he will get defensive like every other time I’ve asked, but do I ever listen to my instincts? No. That’s what gets me into trouble all the time, serious foot-in-mouth.

I walk over to stand beside him, careful not to get too close. My self-control is poor, and even though he is within arm’s reach, the guilt is like a big fucking cockblocker if ever I met one.

“I still remember my wedding day as if it was yesterday. I may have gone Bridezilla on everyone’s asses.” I chuckle mildly to lighten the mood. “Charlie was different, though. She didn’t care about her wedding at all. It was fun planning that day for her.”

“I can’t imagine Charlie making a fuss. God knows she didn’t with me.” One could misconstrue his tone as bitter. I know he has been drinking, and my resistance isn’t helping to brighten his mood.

I try not to let his comment get to me, but I’m not that strong. Does it mean he wishes that she did care?

He turns to face me. His eyes are bloodshot, a result of the alcohol, but as usual, he looks utterly gorgeous dressed in a white V-neck T-shirt covered with a dark gray blazer. His slim, dark denim jeans accentuate his height and physique. He’s so much taller than me, not that I’m a midget or anything, but I am not exactly Heidi Klum.

He places his hands in his pockets almost like he can read my thoughts by keeping his distance. I can’t help but stare at him. Even in his intoxicated state, my jaw wants to drop to the floor as his beautiful face draws me in. His skin, the way his chiseled jaw shapes his face is disturbingly perfect. How can one man look like a fucking god and want me? I’m nothing special, and I definitely am not Charlie.

“I’ve never seen you as happy as you look in that photo.” It’s a statement, said flatly, as his eyes intimidate me with a deep stare.

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, resentful for the mixed emotions swirling around in my head. “Well, you lose your husband a week after you give birth, and it’s kinda hard to smile again.”

“Right.”

Fuck. I see the hurt in his expression. The deep stare narrows as he blinks, and he turns away.

What the fuck is wrong with my big fat mouth? I want to slap it and send it to the naughty corner, tell it that Santa isn’t coming because she’s on the naughty list.

Why do I not think before I speak!

Yep, that’s how much I hate myself right now. I just can’t do anything right.

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” I admit, trying to repair the damage.

“It came out the way you intended, the truth in its finest form. Listen, I should probably go.” He fumbles in his pocket for something, producing his cell a second later. He refuses to look my way, busily typing away to someone.

“Where are you staying?”

“A hotel on the other side of town. I’ve got a meeting with a realtor tomorrow.”

“You’re renting a place?”

He nods. During my stay in Sydney, we talked briefly about the success of his book and what that meant for him. Being honest and open, he told me how he’d lost everything he had worked so hard for because of his addiction to cocaine. Being signed by a publisher gave him that financial boost he needs to get back on his feet. Renting, in my eyes, means only one thing, though—it isn’t a permanent stay, and being in his profession, he can up and leave any time.

“Why don’t you stay here?” I offer, careful to hide the desperation in my voice.

“Adriana, I don’t—”

“I mean like on the couch? I’m sorry, I don’t know what is happening here.” It’s unexpected, the croak in my throat forms, my words choking as that lingering tear escapes my eyes.

“You’re upset because I’m standing in the home which belongs to you and your husband, and you feel guilty.”

I look up at him as his eyes have found their way back to mine. I want to touch him. I need to touch him. I beg him with my eyes to embrace me, but he doesn’t, and maybe it’s for the best.

“How did you know?”I ask, barely above a whisper.

“Body language, plus hours of therapy with Hazel.”

“OMG, Hazel. I haven’t had a chance to call her since I got back. When did you speak to her?” I get off track, welcoming the distraction.

“This morning. I went straight there to see her and spend some time with Blaze. God, I missed her.” His smile returns, and I’m hurt it isn’t me making that happen.

“Why didn’t you come see me first?”

“Why? Because I wasn’t sure I could handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“Being back in LA where all my problems started. Seeing you and not knowing how you will react in our normal environment.”

“And Hazel helped.”

I love Hazel like my own mother, and now with a better understanding, it makes sense why he’d have sought guidance first. This is far more complicated than our relationship. I know firsthand how being somewhere can trigger all the unwarranted memories of a time in your life where darkness prevailed.

Breathe, Adriana. Don’t make this all about you.

“I knew that standing beside you, not being able to touch you, would be hard. I never expected it to be this hard,” he confesses.

“Please stay,” I beg.

“It’s too hard, Adriana.”

“Please? On my couch. I know I’m not ready but knowing you’re here, I really want that.” He remains quiet, and I continue speaking the truth. “I need you here.”

He thinks about my offer, then nods without saying a word.

We work silently together as I arrange the cushions and grab a blanket from the linen closet. Within moments, he has taken off his jacket and shoes and is lying on the couch. A yawn escapes his mouth as he rubs his tired face.

“You sure Andy won’t come down?”

“No, he won’t. It’s Saturday, and besides, he won’t go downstairs without me,” I tell him. “He’s afraid the boogey monsters prey on little boys. Blame Rocky and his Ghostbusters obsession.”

I’m distracted momentarily by his penetrating stare, the desperation to be physical with me, but I restrain, unable to relax in my own home. I say good night without a kiss goodnight and walk upstairs.

In the confinement of my room, a single tear escapes again followed by a stream. Why does having him here make me feel so guilty? Elijah told me to move on, find someone who will love me. Does Julian love me?

Love is a terrifying word I never thought I’d have to say to anyone besides Elijah. The anger is starting to build. Why does this have to be so complicated? Why is it that everywhere I turn, I’m met with a battle?

I change into my tank and bed shorts before climbing into bed. My bed feels emptier than in the weeks after Elijah’s death. I lay on my side staring wide awake at the ceiling, chastising myself for being gutless and for not being able to talk openly about my fears, afraid I’m pushing him away, so I send him a text.

Me:I’m sorry I’m hurting you.

I wait fifteen minutes. I contemplate going downstairs, but my screen lights up, and I take a deep breath before I read his response.

Julian:It does hurt. But what’s the point of pushing you? Sleep, we’ll talk tomorrow.

The answer leaves me wanting to ask more questions, but it’s been a long day, and exhaustion rears its ugly head along with its BFF, guilt.

It hits hard, and Elijah invades my mind as it decides to take a walk down memory lane.

I rest my head on his lap watching paint dry, and I mean literally. We had just painted the walls in our apartment a shade of lilac, creating a small piece of heaven which was slowly becoming our home.

“Did you seriously think we’d end up together? I mean, you know everyone says high school sweethearts never last,” I asked.

“Babe, we aren’t like anyone else. We always had that connection not many people get, but you and me, we got it bad,” Elijah said confidently.

He placed the remote of his Xbox down and stroked my hair gently. My body relaxed as his fingertip glided against my scalp causing my skin to shiver in delight.

“Charlie and Lex are like that. I feel it. I just shouldn’t have been part of breaking them up.” I sighed loudly.

“Adriana, don’t feel guilty for that. They both needed to find themselves. And I agree, they have a strong connection. If only their stubborn heads would realize that.”

“I feel sorry for Julian. I know Charlie loves him, and he loves her, but he just needs to let her be with Lex. God, he is hot enough to pick up anyone. Let go of her and find another beauty.”

“Sometimes, it’s not so easy to let go. He’s a great guy and intelligent. Don’t meddle, okay? It’s called a love triangle. Triangle has three sides, not four,” he pointed out.

I wasn’t a meddler. Okay, maybe I was but only because I had good intentions.

“So are you! You distracted Julian in the restaurant so Lex and Charlie could talk, but I swear to God they fucked in the toilet because Lex’s forehead looked sweaty.” I screwed my face up in disgust. Argh, he is your brother, Adriana! Wrong on so many levels.

“Julian is a great guy. He’ll figure it out soon. Now as for you, have I told you lately how much I love you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans?

I let out a small giggle. “Yes, last night during that long lovemaking session with those new oils.”

“Well, I love you,” he repeated.

I moved my body, so my face met his. His crooked smile awaited me as I ran my finger down his cheek. His quick bite startled me, and we both erupted into laughter.

“You and me, mister, for life. We can’t be broken.” I smiled.

“Impossible.” He smiled back.

And we were broken.

One year and forty-six days after that promise.

To be exact.