Page 64 of Ticket to You

I’m not sure if we’re too tired to speak or if we’re both simply unsure of what to say, but Adam and I brush our teeth in silence. Maybe Adam is second-guessing bringing me here. If that is the case, I can’t blame him. I suspect a parent’s opinion is something most people hold in high regard. I know if my grandparents were still here, their approval would mean the world to me.

I rinse off in the shower before bed, partially because of the eight hours spent on a stuffy airplane, partially because I need a moment alone to think.

Naomi hasn’t been the most welcoming of hosts, to say the least. But the rest of the family made up for that. It felt strangely natural to be with Adam’s siblings and David. I didn’t realize how good it would feel to be around aclassicfamily again. Sure, Gemma and her husband have me over for meals and even some holidays, but it’s just the two of them. Seeing parents and their children here, I’m reminded of what I’m missing out on.

I love my job because I can live vicariously through those I interview. I can imagine what life would be like in their shoes, fostering relationships, growing up in a family.

Now that fantasy feels tangible—the realization of which hangs heavy in me.

My grandparents were all the family I ever knew. And since they’ve been gone, it has felt like my chest is empty. I can fill it temporarily when I meet new people or spend time with Gemma, but slowly, it empties again and again. However, for the past week with Adam, I’ve felt full, as if he patched a slow leak.

If I lose Adam, will that emptiness take over once again? That threat of dependency twists in my stomach.

My entire body feels like it’s ready to give out from the extremes of emotion. The nerves, anticipation, embarrassment, and longing of the evening collide, rendering me useless. And in the back of my mind, there’s also a seed of jealousy. I have no roots in my hometown to bring Adam back to, no siblings for him to win over, and certainly no mother to be overprotective of me.

Adam’s bedroom is already dark when I get in, but I vow to take it all in when I wake up. Thinking he’s already asleep, I sneak into the opposite side of the bed from Adam, but he scoots close to me without a wasted second. I tuck myself against him, mold my body to his, and let the beat of his heart drown out my worries.

* * *

When I wakeup in the morning, I’m alone. On Adam’s pillow, he left a note on the back of his ticket from yesterday’s flight:If I’m not back before you wake, you can find me downstairs.

Automatically, I reach over for my phone, and as soon as I glance at it, I drop it back down to the bed in shock. It’s nearly eleven in the morning. Though my first instinct is to dash downstairs and apologize for sleeping in so late, I falter at the sight of Adam’s childhood bedroom in the morning light.

Naomi must have hired a designer for the base of the room’s design. Gray-and-blue plaid wallpaper covers the walls, and there’s an understated striped rug across the antique hardwood floor. Book-filled built-ins hug either side of the brass bed frame. Beyond that, the room is strikingly similar to Adam’s apartment back in New York. There are artifacts from his travels on every surface, a collage of his photos taking up a sizable portion of one wall, and hooks all along another with his various adventure gear: ropes, harnesses, ski poles, and more. He even has a corkboard full of old postcards, just like the one I saw at his apartment.

Naturally, I’m drawn to the photo collage. I assume most of the pictures must have been taken by Adam because he’s hardly in any of them. There are some landscape shots, but in many of them, a subject, usually Eloise or Adam’s brothers, breaks the views. There are even some group photos of the entire family on their many vacations. They stand in front of Mount Rushmore, a Yellowstone geyser, and countless mountain lakes. In every photo, the subjects’ smiles shine brilliantly.

What was it like to grow up in a family like this?

What would it be like to be in a family like thisnow?

I rush to get ready for the day, dressing in a black and white tweed dress with a white Peter Pan collar. As I do so, I find that my clothes have taken on a bit of Adam’s scent, some of his woodiness weaving into the fibers.

I wonder how long it will be before it fades.

Once dressed and ready, I follow the sounds of cooking to the massive kitchen. Naomi and Eloise are huddled around the breakfast nook table, neither of them speaking. The boys are staggered around the kitchen preparing a late brunch.

The whole Abrams family is blessed with perfect genetics, but none can hold a candle to Adam, who is hunched over the double stove, flipping pancakes on the griddle with a tea towel tossed over one shoulder.

Micah is the first to spot me, and his grin is immediate. “Well, if it isn’t our Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy.”

“You’re telling me you actually know who she is?” I scoff.

“Our mom went to middle school with her,” Joel chimes in, mixing a pitcher of a pinkish drink.

I look over at Naomi in shock, though I shouldn’t be surprised.Of course, she actually grew up with one of the Kennedys. Naomi must have seen me turn to her in her periphery, but her eyes stay glued to her copy ofThe New York Times. Eloise catches my gaze and smiles apologetically.

“How was the guest room?” Jude asks, coughing to cover up his laugh.

My cheeks warm, and I say nothing.

After interpreting my silence, Micah drops the dish he’s cleaning back into the sink, splashing water all over the counter. “That issounfair! The guest room rule is the whole reason Bailey and I broke up.”

“I didn’t realize there was a rule,” I mutter, looking at David, because obviously, Naomi won’t meet my gaze. David shakes his head and smiles, rolling his eyes in Naomi’s direction.

Jude pops a grape into his mouth. Even as he’s chewing, he flashes a mischievous grin. “No wonder you two slept in so late. You were probably up all night.”

“Jude Abrams!” Naomi scolds, dropping her newspaper on the table.

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