Page 65 of Plum

I can’t stop myself from arguing. “It’s been two months.”

“Do you know how hard it is not to—No. Do you know how it feels when I pull up in front of this house, and you’re there, arms crossed, trying to look like you don’t care, and then you melt on me?”

He waits. Oh, lord, he wants an answer. We don’t do this. Talk about feelings.Idon’t do this. “Don’t you miss your people? Your family?”

We’ve gone to Sawdust on the Floor a few times, and he holds his own with the locals. I know he isn’t a homebody, per se.

“Shit, Jo-Beth. No. I don’t.” There’s a realness in his voice. “You know what I am in Pyle?”

“Hot shit?”

“Sure.” He’s bitter, and again, I wish I could take my words back. I’m not used to being able to hurt someone with them. ‘Specially not someone who’s always so strong. “I’m everything to everyone. I’m the one with the plan that saved the company. I’m the one who keeps his brother from partying himself to death. The perfect son. Bachelor of the Year. I’m whatever someone else needs me to be.”

I don’t know what that’s like, being the hero, but in another way, I understand what he’s sayin’.

“I’m that. Whatever someone needs me to be.”

The quiet after I say the words almost rings. It’s the kind of silence you rush to fill with more words, and it’s always a mistake. Still, I go on. “It’s like I got a different face, worked by a whole different set of muscles. I catch my face in the mirror at work. It’s me, and it’s not me, you know?”

I duck my head, my cheeks burn, and wrap my arms tighter around my knees. I didn’t mean to say so much.

“Your superhero mask,” he says. “Come here now.” He holds out a hand.

I shake my head. I’m too raw. He understands, dropping his hand and stretching his legs. After a minute or so, he says, “You know what? If my life all fell apart? I don’t think I’d even care. It’s that I’ve been doing it so long, I don’t even know what I’d do if I were living for myself. Well, I didn’t.”

The corner of his lips curve, ever so slightly. “Turns out, I’d be into home improvements. Investments, home improvements, and Jo-Beth Connolly.”

My eyes burn, so I blink real quick.

“My family is complicated, Jo-Beth. I told you about Ryan Morrison? How he emailed, and how we’re meeting for a beer when he gets back to town?”

We’ve talked about that a lot. His biological father works construction, and he’s been on a project in Florida. When he comes back, they’re gonna meet. Adam replied to the guy’s messages when he was in a weird headspace, but now, I think he’s genuinely curious.

“I told my stepfather, and he told me I didn’t need to bother. Write the man a check, and he’d go away. My stepfather said he’d done it before. Several times.”

“Fuck,” I exhale.

“Yeah. He told me that the same way he told me how to negotiate at a car dealership when I was a kid.”

Again, in some ways, this ain’t anything like my life, but in others? Having family that don’t care about you, holding shit together on your own? I get that.

I creep my feet forward, burrow them under Adam’s thigh. He smiles and wraps a hand around my good ankle, stroking the indent of my heel with his thumb.

“You got cold feet?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“Better now?”

“Yeah.” He reaches with his other hand to tuck my hair behind my ear. I scoot forward so I’m pressed close to his side. “I’m sorry your family sucks.”

He cups my neck and angles my face up to his. “I’ll buy you jewelry if you want it, but you’re not my mistress. I’d buy you the moon, Jo-Beth. I love you.”

A warm tingling swirls through my belly. I love him, too, I think, but I don’t say it back. I can’t. I get real nervous when he talks this way. I don’t linger on it. I start asking myself questions likewhyandfor how long, and I get uneasy.

“You can buy me a little bullfinch if you can find one,” I say instead.

“You want a bullfinch?” Adam’s sly smile breaks, and the tingles turn to a hot flush, creeping up my chest. His smile does things to me; it’s not right. “I’ll get you a bullfinch.”

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