Page 56 of First Comes Forever

Adam laughs. “You guys sound close.”

“We are. We used to do everything together.”

“Used to?” he asks.

I rub circles against my knees, trying not to dwell on the uncomfortable visuals of my mom curled in a ball, writhing in pain. “My mom has severe chronic pain. A deteriorating spine and serious nerve damage that makes her life unbearably painful. I empty my bank account every month paying for injections, electro stimulation, nerve block treatments, pool therapy, acupuncture, massages, you name it. It costs a small fortune to keep her out of a wheelchair. It’s why I started my influencer business in the first place. I mean, I hate my job, but it’s my mom, so—”

“I get it,” Adam assures me, nodding. “I’d give up everything I own if it’d bring my dad’s memory back. It’s frustrating when you’ve paid fortune after fortune, tried every experimental treatment, and yet you’re just running in place…coping.”

“Exactly.” I let my eyes water, unashamed of my emotions. He gets it.He just fucking gets it.

I pull out a small crystal, marbled with thin silver lines. “I got so desperate, I bought this from my psychic, who promised me that its healing powers would make my mom’s suffering subside. I’m still waiting for that one to work.” I chuckle bitterly.

Adam gives me a pitiful smile as he reaches across the space between us and squeezes my knee. “Damn crystals are like dividends. You have to wait forever for them to pay out.” He smirks.

“You don’t believe in that stuff, do you?” I ask.

“Not remotely. But I believe in hope. Hang onto it. And who knows. I’m not always right.” He winks playfully.

After patting his hand, I continue to rummage through my box. “Ha, look at this,” I say as I hold up the old, worn note on blue-lined notebook paper that I wrote Noa when I was eight. “This is a contract between Noa and me.” I hand it to Adam. “Careful, don’t rip it.”

He laughs as he unfolds the note that reads:Will you be my best friend forever? Check yes or no.

“I don’t think this is legally binding if the Bs are backward.”

“Wrong,” I say with a laugh. “It’s even notarized.”

“Is that what this little butterfly stamp is at the bottom?”

I smile at him. “Initialed and everything.”

“Well, that’s pretty damn adorable.” Adam very carefully folds the note back and hands it to me. “This might be my favorite detail about you now, but why are you showing me all this?”

“Because of this,” I say as I pull out the little pink bedazzled guitar Adam gave me a couple weeks ago. “I took it off the key ring and put it in here so I wouldn’t lose it.”

For once, I’m trying to make eye contact while Adam’s eyes are on the carpet. “That little keychain is worthy of your box? It cost me like ten bucks.”

“This little guitar means everything to me. It marks a definitive moment. You could’ve walked right past me when you saw me having a breakdown in the parking lot that day. But you didn’t. Somehow my meltdown drew you in instead of scaring you away. It was the very moment I realized I could be real with you.”

Replacing the keychain, I set the box aside and scoot forward on my knees and swivel in place, so I’m sitting right beside him. “You’re good at gift giving when you don’t overthink it. Women like gifts that show you notice. Even if it’s not a romantic relationship, it’s just nice to be thought about and cared about. So what details do you know about your assistant?”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes. “She mostly works from home, but every now and then I take her to SoHo House with the whole crew so she feels included.” Adam teeters his head back and forth, thinking hard. “She’s really frugal. She once told me she exclusively shops at Goodwill for clothes and stuff. She found some kind of purse there once that she nearly lost her mind over. Some new designer line that’s supposed to sweep the market. It’s called Hot. Hottie. Something like that.”

Of course an L.A. Goodwill has a luxury designer purse.

“Hautte,” I correct him. “As in h-a-u-t-t-e,” I spell out for him. “A Swedish designer who is trying to take Dolce & Gabbana, Chanel, and Prada head-on.”

Adam nods. “Good luck with that.”

“She’s actually doing amazing. I’m in her corner all the way. She donates ten percent of every single sale to battered women shelters.” I wiggle out of his grip and snag a rogue coat hanger from the floor of the closet.Geez, the clutter. I really need to get this place in order.Using the coat hanger as a scooping tool, I retrieve the box from the high closet shelf that Adam helped me put up yesterday. “Remember this?” I ask.

With the box in my hands, I sit back down in front of him, spin it around, and open the magnetic flap. The box itself has gold marble streaking, the very packaging making it feel like a treasure. Carefully unwrapping the thin protective paper, I reveal the bright purple wristlet. Part of me is expecting a small gasp at least, but I forgot I’m showing a man a purse. Tough crowd.

“This never even hit shelves. I was given it as part of an influencer campaign to promote their ‘Parade’ collection, but Hautte sold out about ten minutes after it went on sale. It was a limited edition run, so these wristlets retailed at like two grand. But I bet you it’s worth quadruple that now. It’s such a pretty piece, one of my favorites.”

“It’s nice,” Adam says simply, examining the purse, but he doesn’t touch the box. I smooth the paper back down and close the lid, nudging the box in his direction.

“Give this to your assistant. If she follows Hautte, she knows exactly what this is. She’ll be really impressed with you.”

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