Page 14 of My Accidental Valentine

“It wasn’t vague,” Peter says. “You know why he didn’t come, and you’re not supposed to ask follow-ups.”

You know why he didn’t come.My stomach sinks. Millie knows it’sbecause of me, and now Adam knows that she knows—because Peter just spelled it out. And Peter doesn’t realize thatI know.

I look at Adam, but his expression gives nothing away. Peter, on the other hand, looks genuinely frustrated that we’re pushing this so far.

“Fine,” Millie mutters, lifting her hands like she’s giving up, though it’s obvious she’s annoyed Peter’s siding with Adam.

A knot tightens in my stomach—Peter and Millie don’t argue about stuff like this. It feels weird, like watching your parents bicker. And even though I didn’t ask the question, it still feels like my fault.

Millie’s gaze flicks to mine, and I shake my head slightly, hoping she’ll get the message: Let’s not push Adam anymore.

“Let’s play something else,” Chara suggests.

I nod, forcing some cheer into my tone. “We could put on a movie or something.”

I can feel Adam’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus elsewhere, unwilling to look his way.

“Lord of the Rings?” Amira suggests.

Everyone agrees—even Millie, though there’s a flicker of disappointment on her face. She was clearly hoping she’d get some answers from Adam during the game.

While Chara sets up the screen, the rest of us head to the table to refill our plates with snacks and appetizers. The room hums with the noise of movement and chatter as everyone piles food onto their plates. Once I’m done, I grab my plate—stacked with cheese balls, canapés, and breadsticks—and settle onto the floor near the coffee table.

To my surprise, a moment later, Adam sits down beside me.

He’s so close that I feel the warmth radiating from him. Balanced on his bent knee is a plate with at least six mini pizzas, and in his hand, a glass of wine filled to the brim.

“You’re going to eat all that?” I ask, quirking up an eyebrow.

Adam glances at me with a flicker of amusement. “Take some if you want,” he says, his lips curving into a smile.

“Thanks,” I say, taking a mini-pizza from his plate and biting into it. But I feel his attention lingering. He’s watching me, eyes glossy and distant—until, for the briefest moment, his gaze dips to my lips, something raw flickering across his face.

A shiver rolls through me, my insides melting. He’s drunk—I can tell.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice measured.

Adam gives a small nod and drinks his wine before meeting my gaze again.

“You already know, don’t you?” His words just barely cutting through the hum of conversation around us.

“Know what?” I murmur, leaning in slightly, my brows pulling together.

“That I stopped coming to Millie’s birthdays because of you.”

My heart stutters, then starts beating so fast it feels like my chest might cave in. “I…suspected,” I admit carefully. After a beat, I ask, “Was it because of what I did?”

He nods, his expression distant. The glass lingers near his lips before he takes a sip, stalling.

“I’m sorry if I did something to offend you,” I whisper, my stomach tightening like a coiled spring. “I was so drunk, I don’t remember what happened.”

Adam turns to me a little too quickly, his green eyes fixed on mine. “You don’t?” he asks, genuinely surprised.

“Nope,” I say, heat flooding my cheeks. “Did I kiss you or something?”

“You really don’t remember?” Adam asks again, like he can’t wrap his head around it.

“No.” I shake my head, unable to look at him—shame curling hot in my gut.

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