Page 115 of Again, In Autumn

Adam runs the back of his hand in front of my collarbone as if he were going to sweep back my hair. He says gruffly, “And this whole area…” His lips pinch together, pretending to whistle, and he bites his knuckle.

He settles both hands astride my face. He’s still not touching me, but my body doesn’t know that. His dark lashes flutter and he sways, locked to my eyes, and I’m thinking he won’t be able to manage keeping the distance of his hands for much longer. He’s bound to fall because I’m on the verge myself.

Do not kiss him.

My eyes linger on his mouth. For some reason, it makes me want to cry. I think of all the times his hands and lips touched me. If I kissed him now, I’d never stop thinking of it. It might take another fourteen years to get over him.

Adam’s hands pull away. His mouth twists into a soft smile. “And this beautiful face. Those pink cheeks and mossy green eyes and pouty red lips. Priceless.”

I sigh, and my head leans to the side.

He mirrors my movement.

We give each other the same look but I’m having my thoughts, and I don’t know his.

In two days, I go back to Atlanta and spend the weekend preparing lessons for the week ahead. He goes home to Chicago and starts recording new music. We’ll spend Christmas with our families, welcome in the spring, have drinks with friends, promote a new album, get through end of year testing, attend the Grammy’s with an actress on the arm. All things that don’t fit into a singular, shared life.

For all I know, Adam’s only interested in this one night, this shared bed, and that’s it. We’re still practically strangers. We’ve still only known each other for two months. The version of me who stood her ground this morning remains the level-headed, correct one, and this girl, who just got phantom groped, isn’t thinking straight.

Adam stands. I follow the movement, seeing the long love line on his right palm as he holds it out toward me.

“We should go out there,” he says.

I stand and brush smooth my dress, but he doesn’t give me space to do it, “I’ll put on my shoes and go first,” I say, an inch from his face. “So no one sees us in here together.”

He blinks. “Yeah. Of course.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

“I left my phone upstairs,” I tell Adam as we walk through the lobby.

“Are you expecting an important call?”

“I mean to connect with our people. It looks like we’re on our honeymoon walking around just the two of us.”

Adam opens a large glass door for me to walk through, and mutters under his breath, “You say all the right things, don’t you?”

He follows me out onto hexagonal stone pavers with moss sandwiched between, and we fall into awe over the setting sun that sits above the trees beyond the long, hilly yard. The whipped clouds have turned pink, casting a slightly orange hue on the bistro tables and stone water fountain. Pathways weave in and out of hedges. Dying and dry, but well-planned, landscaping decorates the property. Curved gardens. Square gardens.

“They have a reflecting pool!” I gasp. No one responds, so my head spins around, looking for Adam.

He saunters toward me with two glasses, nodding at a dumbstruck passerby.

I’m reminded of the one pair of ripped, duct-taped shorts that he seemed to wear every day in the summer. Right now, with his pants and ironed shirt, hair combed to the side, he looks so handsome it hurts.

Stop it, I tell my gooey insides. It’s going to be a long night if you don’t get it together.

He places a drink in my hand. “I got you white wine. In case you spill on yourself.”

“You read my mind,” I say, taking it.

He exhales, looking at a disappearing path through one of the gardens. “Do you want to walk around?”

I glance down at the two-inch heel of my suede shoes. The pebbled pathway ahead mocks me. “I’d love to, but I’ll fall on my face.”

Adam checks out my shoes and says, “I’ll help you.” He adds with a bite, “It’ll be like we’re on our honeymoon.”

A couple walks onto the pathway in front of us, her ballet flats giving her zero difficulty, but when my feet stop onto the stones, I feel like I’m listing on the high seas.

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