Page 75 of As the Years Pass
Adam turns on his side to face me, his hand going to my cheek. “Yes,” he says adamantly, his eyes on mine.
I want to believe him, but now that he’s here, now that we’ve crossed this line again, I have the sharp reminder of the pain I felt when he left.
“I won’t be able to handle it if…” I can’t even finish the thought, emotion clogging my throat.
“I am not going anywhere, Emmet. We will make this work. I want to.”
We’re silent for a moment, just staring at one another. There are so many things I want to say, so many things I want to do. I go through the list of things and settle on something I think is important for him to know.
“I never stopped caring about you, Adam. Not once.”
His eyes fall closed, and he lets out a sharp breath. “You’re so sure.”
I put my hand over his. “I’ve always been sure about us.”
His eyes open, and I see the regret. “I wish I could say the same.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re here now, and if you’re serious, then this is all that matters. This, here, right now.”
He nods, then slides his hand out from under mine to take it and bring it to his lips.
“I haven’t stopped caring about you either, Emmet, I just forced myself not to think about it.”
“I understand.”
“Do you though?”
I nod. “Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do because it feels right at the time.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
He looks away, but I take his face and turn him back to me. “If we’re going to move forward, we can’t focus on the past. Ours is mostly good, but it’s also messy. We can remember it, learn from it, but we can’t dwell on it. We aren’t the same people. We’re better now.”
The smile that crosses his lips is blinding, and I can’t help but smile back. Everything, right in this moment, is perfect. It all feels right.
“I wish I could have your confidence,” he whispers.
“You don’t need it,” I say, pulling him against my chest. “Because you have me.”
Chapter Thirty
Adam
Back to life as usual. Only things are a little different. Emmet and I are spending more time together. When I don’t have the kids, we’re spending nights together. Sometimes at his house, sometimes at my apartment. It all depends what we do and where we end up. After having a strict routine for so long, I enjoy not knowing how my days may go.
I spend time with him at the bar, and help him make financial decisions. I may have only been a realtor, but I know a thing or two about running a business. I’ve seen enough of them over the years.
Surprisingly, after that night in California, there hasn’t been any sort of sex between us. There’s been kissing—so muchkissing that I’ve nearly come in my pants, but it seems an unspoken rule that we’re waiting.
For what? I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it, and it doesn’t seem we need to. When it happens again, it’ll happen again. For now, this is how things are going, and that’s okay.
We don’t usually see each other on Thursdays or Fridays, but he comes by for lunch on Saturdays and dinner on Sundays. He helps me with the kids’ bedtime routine, making it much easier for me. It wasn’t even this easy when I was with Leslie, which says so much.
Before I know it, it’s just about Valentine’s Day, and I wonder if I should be planning something for us to do. Emmet isn’t much of a planner. He’s a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of guy. We’ve always been opposites in that sense, and funny enough, we’ve always made it work.
I should ask if he wants to do something for Valentine’s Day because he may have to work. Though we’ve spent a lot of time together, we haven’t done anything that tells people we’re together. We don’t go out to restaurants or other places. We stay at the bar, his place, or my place.
When we were younger, everything was hidden, secretive. No one knew what was going on between us. No one knew we liked each other or that we even liked guys. It was never talked about. I know Emmet was not ashamed, and he would have told everyone in a heartbeat. He kept quiet for me. I was the nervous one, the one who was worried about what people would think or people would say if they knew. I was worried about being rejected and not accepted by everyone I knew, especially the only family I had left—my aunt and uncle who took me in after my parents died.
