Page 38 of Deeply Examined

Adam

It’s 6:00 p.m. when I arrive home the next night. I push open my front door and am greeted by the sight of Jessica’s ass as she bends over to look in the oven. It’s an exquisite sight. My condo smells like brown sugar and butter just had sex, which makes sense when I see the rack of chocolate chip cookies cooling next to the sink.

“You’re here!” she cries out warmly once she stands and sees me. A wide smile spreads over her face.

I freeze like a gazelle that’s been spotted by a lion. My heart thuds painfully, and a claustrophobic panic swirls in my gut.

This is too much. Too domestic. Too happy. Too goddamnnice.

“I’m going to go change,” I mumble and turn on my heel, fleeing down the hall to my bedroom. I move fast but not before I see the disappointment on Jessica’s face. The way her shoulders slump.

Fuck.

I made her feel bad, which makes me feel bad. This is the problem. I’m not cut out for this. I’m not designed to make people happy. I don’t know how to act normal. I never saw what that looked like growing up.

In my bathroom, I peel off my scrubs and throw them in the hamper. Standing only in my boxer briefs, I place my hands on the edge of the sink and let my head drop forward. Closing my eyes, I count to twenty-two and give myself a pep talk.

You can do this. Just go out there and talk to her. Eat her food and wash the dishes and say thank you. You’ve watched enough sitcoms to figure this out, you moron.

Even my internal dialogue thinks I’m an idiot.

I straighten, square my shoulders, let out a deep breath, and get dressed in gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt.

She’s at the table when I come back out, the food in front of her so fresh it’s still steaming. A matching plate sits at the place setting across from her. I take the seat there and admire the Pasta Carbonara she’s made along with a leafy green salad and crusty garlic bread.

Jessica sips her wine and eyes me silently as I serve myself. Her gaze is sharp, which makes me want to hide but also warms me. I want to bask in her attention.

“What was that?” she asks.

I pretend not to understand. “What?”

“You running away just now. You looked like you thought I was going to attack you with a knife and serve you up for dinner.”

I laugh, the sound artificial even to my ears. “I had to change out of my scrubs. That’s all.” I set my jaw and give her my frosty stare, the one that sends the nurses scrambling back at the hospital.

It doesn’t work.

Jessica isn’t scared of me, although she should be.

“I don’t think so.” She focuses on me, laser sharp, and I resist the urge to shrink into myself. “I think you got spooked. I think you’re wishing you were on your own right now. That you could do whatever you do when I’m not here. Like walk around naked or masturbate while looking out your window at the city below.”

“Jessica!” I say, slightly scandalized, which I know is hypocritical given what’s in the locked room.

She’s on a roll now. My protesting doesn’t even slow her down.

“I’ve snooped all over this condo,” she admits with her chin resting in her hand. Her food sits before her, uneaten. “Know what I found?”

Alarmed, I ask, “What?”

“Nothing. Big fat nothing.” Those green eyes never leave my face. “Being here is like living with a ghost. There’s nothing personal. No photos or scrapbooks or even documents, beyond your medical license and that kind of stuff.” She looks over at my bookshelves. “You have a ton of books, every genre imaginable, which is a perfect example of what I’m talking about.”

“How so?” I ask. There’s a part of me that wants to know more. To see how she views me.

“Usually, you can tell a lot about someone based on the books they read. Sci-fi, they like politics and have a good imagination. Historical fiction, they like war and figuring out how events in the past affect us today. Romance readers are hopeful—they think everyone can be redeemed. Butyou,” accusation mixes with her words, “youread it all. As a result, when I look at your bookshelves I’m left knowing you no better than I did two months ago when I first walked into your office.”

No idea what to say to that. I’ve lived my life trying very hardnotto be known, and, according to Jessica, I’ve done a damn good job of it.

I should feel proud of myself…but I don’t.

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