Page 87 of Company Ink

"Forty years?" Adrian asks, surprised. "That's a long time to be married."

"Right? It's crazy. I guess they're a couple of the lucky ones," I say, pulling out a compact mirror and tidying up the mascara disaster under my eyes.

"What do you mean, lucky ones?"

"Well, fifty percent of all marriages end in divorce," I explain to him. "Those aren't the greatest odds."

"Right..." Adrian turns onto the highway. "I guess their marriage is something to aspire to."

I place the compact back into my purse, letting out a laugh. "Oh, I don't aspire to be like them," I say. "I don't want to get married."

Adrian whips his head towards me, his forehead creased. "What? You don't?"

"No, I don't."Is that so shocking to hear?"I think marriage is an antiquated ritual, to be honest. It's not that I don't believe in monogamy or anything, I do. I just don't think a piece of paper that you submit to the government has any impact on a relationship. I don't think it makes it stronger or more real."

Adrian stiffens beside me. "So, you'd be okay with never getting married?" he asks quietly. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, is that weird? I know most women want to get married but, I don't know, it was never something I wanted." And helping Monique plan her wedding has reaffirmed that.

Adrian stares out into the road, his fingers coiled around the steering wheel. "I see," he whispers.

The rest of the drive we listen to the radio and talk about the upcoming retreat. Even though Adrian responds to my plethora of questions, his mind seems elsewhere. By the time we pull up to my condo it's past 9 pm. I shouldn't have waited until the last minute to pack.

"Well, thanks for the ride, Adrian," I say, opening the car door. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow," he says, not looking in my direction. God, what's gotten into him?

I slide out of the car and head inside. The slamming of a car door forces me to turn my head.

"Cassie, wait!" Adrian exclaims, jogging towards me.

"What is it—"

Before I can finish my sentence, Adrian's hands cup the sides of my face and his lips crash into mine, soft, urgent, warm. His fingers rake through my hair, tugging me closer to him, deepening his kiss. I place my hands on his chest and lightly shove him away, confusion and bliss battling for space in my mind.

"What are you doing?" I breathe, touching my lips.

"I can't do this, Cassie," he whispers, taking a step closer to me, his desperate and tired eyes scanning my face. "I can't just be your friend. I…I want more. I will give you more."

I narrow my eyes. "What? But you said—"

"I know what I said, and I'm sorry. I know you must be confused right now but I'm not anymore." My jaw clenches. "Please, Cassie, don't look at me like that."

I stagger backward. "You can't do this! You can't just tap in and out whenever you feel like it, Adrian. Just a week ago you told me you couldn't give me more and now you're saying you can? What the fuck? Is this a game to you? Is this fun for you?"

"I'm not playing any games, Cassie," Adrian pleads. "This is real. How I feel about you is real, and I can't deny it any longer."

I shake my head. "No... I don't believe you. People don't change in a week, Adrian!" I rummage for my keys in my purse. "I need to go pack; I can't do this right now."

"Cassie, please!" he begs, grabbing my hand. "Let's just talk."

"Goodbye, Adrian," I say sternly.

I rush inside, my mind spinning. What is wrong with him? How can he just flip flop like that? And why am I so hesitant to believe him? Isn't this what I wanted? Isn't he who I wanted?

I want Adrian...right?

twenty-nine

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