Page 8 of One Hundred Lights
The moms’ cars are gone. The house is quiet.
I’ll just tell Adrian I don’t need his help.
All I have to do is find the nerve to face him.
4
ADRIAN
She finally turns around, and the look on her face almost breaks me.
It’s not the raw, naked, open look she gave me when I first walked in, before she remembered who I am and the reasons I shouldn’t be here. Her forehead crinkles, her lips press together, and her eyes squint.
Oh, fuck me, is she about to cry?
I should leave her alone. She doesn’t want me here. Britt stepped away from me six months ago and I don’t think anything has changed for her. She doesn’t want to pursue me. Hell, she probably managed to completely kill whatever feelings she had for me.
But Jesus, it’s good to see her face and look into her dark-blue eyes. Mine trace the curve of her jaw and the slope of her long neck. She’s wearing a wide-necked white sweater that’s falling off one shoulder, exposing a white lace bra strap. Her thick, light-blond braid rests in the crook of her neck. I picture myself burying my face in that space, and the vision ignites inside of me like a lit match thrown at a dry pile of leaves.
Damn. That’s something I should not be thinking about.
“You should go.” Her voice is unsteady, hands clasped together, door still open and letting cold air spill in. “The meeting’s over.”
I breathe in to respond, but what do I say? I don’t want to leave yet?
“I want to help,” I say instead. “I’m, uh, trying to get more involved in things since the divorce.”
She flinches at the word and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Reese handled everything with Chelsea and the school. It’s kind of overwhelming.”
Her eyebrows lift, but she stays silent.
“Do you know what it’s like to try to get in with all those moms?” I nod my head toward the empty driveway. “They are so judgmental. I could use some tips on how to break in. And that online homework system? For fuck’s sake, that’s impossible to understand.”
The words pour out of me. I am trying hard for Chelsea, but it never feels like enough.
The corner of her mouth quirks, but she doesn’t let the smile form.
“I don’t know how to break into the PTO mom circle either,” she says. “So I’m not sure I can help you.”
“Britt.” I sigh. “I want to be a good dad.” My voice cracks at the end.
“You are,” she murmurs, her face softening. “Just worrying about that stuff means you are.”
I shake my head, stand, and approach her. She takes a visible breath, her shoulders raising up. I stop right in front of her and reach past to push the door gently shut, leaving my hand pressed against the door just above her shoulder. We’re so close now. I should move away.
“I’ve missed you,” I say instead. “As a friend, of course.”
She moves her head back and forth with firm motion, breaking our gaze and shutting her eyes, as if to push an unwelcome thought out of her mind. I take that as a cue to give her more space, so I step back and let my hand drop to my side.
“I don’t think we can be friends. I respect you wanting to get more involved. But here? With me? It’s not a good idea.”
Her words are a stab in my chest.
“I want to help. I want to make things right. Between us.”
Britt’s eyes fly open.
