Page 111 of Again, In Autumn

My fingers grip the hanger of a cream-colored Free People dress. It absorbed my entire Fall shopping allowance, but it’s worth it, and to be on the safe side, I’m done drinking red wine once it’s on.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Adam offers, getting to his feet.

“No!” I hold up a hand to stop him. I don’t want him to leave. “Someone might see you leave the room.”

Adam thinks about this. Maybe he has a response to counter my concern, but he doesn’t share. “You’re right.”

“I’ll go take a quick shower and change in the bathroom.”

“Okay.” He flickers his eyes to me. “Since we’re going to be in such tight corners, have you got any new tattoos I should be warned about?”

“None that you get to see,” I tease, only because he started it.

With my dress and toiletry bag, I walk into our beautiful bathroom. There’s a gold garment rack where the dress hangs while I peel off my clothes until I’m naked with Adam on the other side of the door. This feels more sensual than it should. This is why he had reservations about us sharing the room.

I listen to the sound of a belt buckle. Fabric rubbing together. Jeans falling.

“Vienna, are you okay?” He calls out.

I plaster my hand over my mouth. “Fine,” I manage.

“It just got really quiet in there.”

After a beat, I ask, “Are you listening to me get undressed?”

He inhales and says guiltily, “Yes.”

At least we’re in this together.

I rinse off in the shower, deciding at the last minute to wet and restyle my hair. I have this one last night to make myself feel pretty and get dolled up, one last night to enjoy being the object of Adam’s desire.

Francesca said last month, “I feel like David thinks I’m not pretty anymore, but it’s because I don’t feel pretty about myself.”

Truthfully, she could grow out all of her body hair and David wouldn’t notice, let alone have an opinion about it, so I didn’t understand that statement at the time.

Now, drying myself off with a soft, expensive towel, I realize that part of the struggle of any relationship is not losing ourselves along the way. She needed to get reacquainted with the version of herself she feels good about.

I stare back at myself through the steamy mirror with a scrubbed, fresh face and damp, bare shoulders.

Growing up. I belonged to a cliquey group that required a certain look in order to be accepted, but when I went to the lake, just us girls, I dressed like a slob because there was no one to impress. Then, I met Adam, looking like a slob, and he could not have cared less. I didn’t even look in the mirror before running out to see him on the porch every morning.

Then I just…forgot how that felt. For years, I told myself that she was special. Not me, her. The Vienna that Adam had loved. She was vivacious and bright and charming, but I lost her, lost myself, and stopped seeing the truths of that summer. Eighteen-year-old Vienna was flawed, but she didn’t care, and she let Adam love her in spite of that.

I haven’t loved myself in a very long time.

Now, it’s suspiciously quiet on the other side of the door. I dry myself off and then realize my underwear was still in my bag, on the bed. With the towel wrapped around my midsection, held together with one hand between my boobs, I peek my head out of the door.

Adam sits on the top of the comforter, in black boxer briefs, reading a glossy wedding magazine.

“What are you doing?” I stifle a laugh.

He looks at me and his eyes widen. “What are you doing?”

“Cool your jets. I realized that I didn’t grab everything.” I walk toward my bag where it sits beside his crossed ankles and ask, “Why aren’t you dressed?”

With zero chill or attempts to pretend he’s not ogling me, Adam says after a moment, “I was going to change and then I decided to take a shower, too. I didn’t want to put my clothes back on.”

“Why are you reading a wedding magazine?”

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