Page 56 of Make It Without You

When the article loads, my heart drops.

I wakeup the next morning with conflicting feelings. Emily will probably never want to talk to me when she finds out I looked her up. It’s just wanting a quicker peak behind the curtain of the woman I’m completely infatuated with, won out over logic and morals.

My phone chimes with a text. Reaching over to my bedside table, I see a text and picture from Sandra, one of the team Moms from Dylan’s team.

Sandra: The boys are having a blast.

Me: He’ll never want to come home. I’m glad he’s enjoying himself.

On days when I feel like I’m lacking as a Dad, it brings me joy when I see my son having fun with his friends. He may not have a sibling but I do what I can to make sure he’s fulfilled in that area of his life. Once summer hits, our days will be filled with cookouts, baseball games, and trips to the amusement park.Hopefully, with the addition of Emily, as she’ll no longer be my son’s teacher.

My thoughts go back to the article I read and back to the first night she came to my bar. It all makes so much sense. However, I can’t particularly know what things set her off. It’s the knowledge that anything can set her off and send her back in time that terrifies me.

Heaving myself out of bed I head to the bathroom and go about getting ready. Without Dylan here the house is eerily quiet. He’s not quite at the age where he’s asking for a pet, so I don’t have a furry companion to keep me company.

When I’m dressed and feel more human I walk back into my bedroom and pick up my phone to text Emily.

Me: Ready for some pancakes?

Emily

Adam: Ready for some pancakes?

I’ve been sitting on my balcony looking at his text for the last five minutes. When I left last night, I couldn’t stop feeling like something was wrong. Maybe it was the mention of baseball? I’ve done my best to avoid any and all mention of the sport since James died.

Can I attach myself, by way of Adam, to a sport James loved so much?

Me: What if I told you I already ate?

I think the other part I’m so hesitant about is that once I let him into my space, my life, I’ll never want him to leave.

Adam: Then you can watch me eat all that fluffy and sweet goodness.

Me: You’re cruel. Yeah, you can come over and wow me with your pancake skills.

I add my address in the next text with Adam responding that he’ll be over shortly. Turning back into my apartment I try to look at it from an outsider’s view. Walking over to the expansive kitchen, I tuck my phone into the back pocket of my ripped light-wash jeans and pull out my espresso beans to get to work on making an iced latte.

When my parents chose this place, they wanted me to have everything. I think they bought me this place as a way to make up for the abandonment. And while it’s not fully solvable, it does help. So I live here mortgage-free. Not because of privilege, but because of my parent’s guilt. Which, again, is not solvable but it does ease some financial burden as being a teacher doesn’t mean I’m rolling in the cash.

I’ve just finished pouring the milk when a knock sounds throughout my space.

My heart races knowing that it’s Adam on the other side.

I push up the sleeves of my camel-colored sweater and pad my sock-covered feet over to the door, but check the peephole just to be sure it’s Adam. Seeing it’s him, I take a deep breath and unlock the door, opening it to him.

“Hi,” I breathe out.

Opening the door wider, Adam steps through with his reusable bag-laden arms. Shutting the door, I lead him to my kitchen and the whistle he lets out doesn’t go unnoticed.

My parents had my apartment completely remodeled. Hardwood floors run throughout the living space, dining area, and kitchen. The kitchen, while not my area of expertise, holds a top-of-the-line range with gas burners. The refrigerator is a model down from the ones in restaurants. I have a shallow walk-in pantry where I keep the appliances needed to cook meals should I need them. My espresso machine is the only thing I keep on my counter.

The countertops are white marble with gold flecks that reflect the morning sunlight which pours through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen cabinets are painted a dark navy with gold handles and a soft pink backsplash to add more color to the space. While I’m not a cook, this spot is one of my favorites in the apartment.

When he sets the bags on the counters, he does another survey spin of the space and then puts his gaze on me. “Hi.”

Those dang butterflies take flight as the bright morning sun shines through the windows, highlighting the green in his eyes. I swear I get lost in them as I picture myself enjoying a summer picnic with him and Dylan.

Woah! Shaking myself out of the daydream, I step back and avoid Adam’s puzzled expression. “Do you want some coffee?” I ask as I pick up my drink and look at everything but him and his handsome face.

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