Reckless Abandon (4 page)

“Hey Ember.” I’m instantly calmed by his voice.

“Hey you.”

“What’s up, everything OK?”

How does he always sense what I’m feeling?

“Bo called me this morning.”

Adrian’s tone tenses instantly. “At work?”

“Nope, on my cell. I deleted his number and didn’t know it was him ...”

“What’d he say?” He sounds less than amused.

“He says we need to talk. Which, I suppose we do, since we’re adults. He told me he’d be at the meeting on Friday, so I told him we’d talk then.”

Adrian’s sigh enters my ear and the pit of my stomach. “Are you OK?”

No
.
“Um...yeah. We really
do
need to talk. Monica says I should...work and all.” I’m rambling.

“Maybe she’s right. Hey, I’ve got the next two days off. I know you have prep-work to do, but do you want to get together for dinner today or tomorrow? I’ll drive to you.” Cool Adrian returns and, suddenly, fresh butterflies emerge from their chrysalises in my stomach.

“That’d be great. How about tomorrow night?” I hope he can hear my smile.

“Sounds good.” I can hear his.

“Oh, and if you’re around this weekend, Finnegan’s is having a summer kick-off on Saturday. Josh wants me to sing. He’s thinking of putting together a house band.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. See you tomorrow, Blu-” he stops himself.

“It’s OK, Adrian. I like it. See you tomorrow.” I hang up.

What the hell am I doing?

* * *

Thursday’s here, and Adrian’s on his way. A hopeful smile greets me in the mirror as I touch up my lipstick. I’m glad I decided not to dye my auburn hair black in a freak post-breakup impulsive moment. I feel good for the first time in a week. I feel almost normal. I’m looking forward to an agenda-free dinner with Adrian. Though, I’m beginning to think no dinner with Adrian will ever be completely agenda-free on either of our parts. There’s history, and you can’t erase history—no matter how hard you dig the eraser into the paper.

“Come in!” I shout from the kitchen when he knocks.

As soon as the door shuts, my apartment feels like it’s suspended in air. His sweet cologne trails through the room and surges through my body. I’ve tried to ignore these biological responses to his presence since I saw him in Finnegan’s for the first time in four years. It feels like a carnival ride to let myself feel them again.

He saunters toward me with a swagger that only he’s allowed to use, pulling his hands out of his pockets. “You’re gorgeous.”

“So are you, as always.” I grin. “Here’s a beer, sit.”

He grabs his beer and his hand connects with mine for the briefest of seconds, just long enough to weaken my knees.

“Thank you.” He leans in and kisses my cheek before heading to the living room. I need to steady myself against the counter for a moment before following him.
 

I want your lips
.  I shake my head at the thought and try for normal conversation. “How was the rest of your week?” I sit next to him on the couch.

He seems a little tense as he stretches his arm on the back of the couch. “Good. Busy.”

“You seem tense.”

“I’m not supposed to say anything until the meeting tomorrow, but I have to tell you something.”

In an instant, I’m left searching for the hole my stomach dropped into. “What?”

“Tomorrow is my last day with DROP.” He sets his beer down and watches me.

I’m relieved and confused. I was looking forward to working with Adrian, but a voice in the back of my head suggests that it was only because I wanted to spend more time with him— which I can do anyway. Sensing my confusion, he continues.

“I was signed on to consult for the collaboration. When the ink is dry, I’m out. I did my job and have no interest in working with DROP any further.”
 

This is all about Bo
.  “Don’t make this about Bo.” I swallow a gratuitous amount of wine.

“While I really like the organization, I feel uncomfortable working with Cavanaugh for a number of reasons.”

There’s only one reason. 

“Thank you for telling me. I think tomorrow holds enough anxiety, and I’m glad I didn’t have to hear this then.” It’s not lost on me that after tomorrow I could, guilt-free, run my hands over that chocolate washboard Adrian calls a stomach. My hormones are going to be the death of me.

“Let’s get out of here and get some food.” He brings our glasses to the kitchen and meets me at the door. My lower back catches fire as his hand guides me down the stairs.

We drive to the restaurant in silence, and are seated by a beautiful waitress that Adrian ignores. It begins to dawn on me that in a little over twelve hours I’ll be face-to-face with Bo.

“I’m a little nervous about tomorrow,” I offer before Adrian can analyze my face.

“I’m sure you are. I would be, too. Well
, I kind of
am
.” He sips his water and then folds his hands in front of him.

“What are you nervous about?”

“I don’t want him to bug you with apologies. You will be there for business, and I don’t want him screwing you up.”

A twinge of annoyance takes over. “I can handle my shit, thanks.”

“No, Blue, that’s not what I meant. You know what, let’s just enjoy tonight.” His smile breaks down my anger, and our eyes rarely leave each other for the rest of our meal.

When Adrian drives me back to my apartment, he insists on walking me up the stairs. He’s always walked me to my door, even in college, despite his friends who would drop their girlfriends at the curb.

“Tonight was nice, Adrian.” I don’t know why I’m whispering.

He closes the space between our bodies with a hug.

His lips graze the top of my ear as he talks. “I had a great time too, November.”

I take this opportunity to inhale the cologne from the dip above his collarbone. “You smell good.”

Adrian pulls back slightly and lifts my chin with his thumb. Our eyes lock and I swallow hard. His lower lip twitches as his eyes flash with recognition. Heat surges through me in response. Out of nowhere a pang in my chest reminds me that my heart is still in emotional ICU somewhere between Concord and here. A sigh of resolve takes over, dousing my insides with cold water.

“See you tomorrow.” Adrian smiles and softly presses his lips against my cheek before heading down the stairs and to his car.

* * *

“He wants in your pants, November.”

I wonder if it’s easier for her to say shit like that while she’s driving so she doesn’t have to look at me with a straight face.

“Monica, we’ve been over this. If he wanted in my pants that bad, I’m sure he would have figured out a way to get there when he was stayin
g
at my apartment
.
”

“He’s good. He’s greasing the wheels.” She chances a glance sideways, just to see me shake my head.

“What wheels, Monica? I’m not with anyone, neither is he. We’re just spending time together ...” Those butterflies are making it hard to concentrate. Though, I can’t be sure how many are stamped with
Adrian
and how many are stamped with
Band-Aid
.

“Do you have feelings for him again, or are you just using him as a distraction?”

I’m honest. “I don’t know. Last night was the first time in five years we’ve had dinner without pretense. It was nice. It felt comfortable.”

“He’ll be there today, too, right?” She purses her lips.

“Yes. I can’t believe you made me leave this early,” I say in an attempt to shift the focus off of Adrian. I didn’t tell her that today is his last day with DROP. If I tell her that, she’ll know I care.

As Concord comes into view, my pulse quickens. I dry my now-sweaty palms on the hem of my skirt and look out the window.

“Are you OK, Em? You look pale.”

“Can you pull over here for a second?” My cheeks are hot and my mouth is dry. I need air.

Monica pulls over on the quiet county road, and I open the door and throw up what little breakfast I managed to eat.

“Em ...” Monica’s hands never leave the wheel. It’s like she was expecting this.

I swish some water around my mouth and spit the rest of my nerves onto the side of the road and get back in the car. I take a cleansing breath and turn to Monica, who is still watching me with suspicion.

“Well, now that
that’s
over with, let’s get to it. I’ve got a band-aid that needs removing.”

Chapter Four

“That’s Rae’s car.” I tilt my chin to the lone blue Saab in the DROP parking lot.

Monica speaks through clenched teeth. “Should we wait here for Bo to show up—
if
he’s going to show up?”

“First, he probably won’t be here today -”

“No,” Monica interrupts, “he said he wouldn’t be at the meeting. He didn’t say he’d ditch work all together. Is he ten years old?”

“Relax, Monica! I need to talk to Rachel anyway, regardless if Bo shows. I haven’t talked to her, and she’s tried to call me ...” I unbuckle my seatbelt and get out of the car.

“I’ll wait here.”

“Thanks.” I shut the door harder than necessary and focus on my pace toward the building.

I reach the door and shakily grasp the handle, reminding myself that Rachel was the victim of Bill and Tristan’s scheme—I just fell into the middle. As soon as the door shuts behind me, her voice sings from an office at the end of the hall.

“Hello?” I hear her chair move and her feet heading toward the door. “Is that you, Bowan? I thought you weren’t—” She stops when she reaches the door and sees me, still standing by the entrance. I resist the urge to turn it into an exit.

“Hi.”

“Ember ...” She takes a cautious step out of her office and two more down the hall.

“I just wanted to come a little early...to talk to you.” This is only a half-lie. I break from her gaze and stare at the floor for a second. I look back up when I hear her running toward me. She has a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” She throws her arms around my neck and squeezes the nerves from my body. Without consult, tears flee from my eyes as I hug her back.

“I’m sorry I haven’t returned your calls. I just...needed some time. It was incredibly selfish of me.” I pull back and run the tip of my index finger under my eyes to avoid a mascara disaster.

“Don’t be silly. Come into my office, we can sit.” She leads me by the hand to her office, not releasing her grip until I’m seated.

She seems as bubbly as ever, but there’s a stress around her eyes that wasn’t there a couple of weeks ago. She looks thinner, too, if that’s even possible.

“How are you doing with everything that’s gone on?” I cross my legs.

She brushes my question away with her hand. “Fuckers. They’re such assholes to mess with me,
especially
through my brother, for God’s sake! Bowan should have known better, too, than to keep it from me ...” I reflexively flinch a little at his name. She always calls him Bowan, and it reminds me that he’s human, a real thing—not something that happened in my dreams. “I’m sorry. Listen, how are
yo
u
?
I can’t believe Bill went after you like that. Ember ...”

“Yeah. No. It’s fine. I mean, it wasn’t, but now it is.” My ramble is annoying me, so I shake my head and swallow to regroup. “Dude’s clearly got some issues.” I shrug and force out a chuckle.

“No shit. He likely won’t spend any time in jail. And, really, that’s fine with me—he’d never make it anyway. I’m just glad I never have to see him in these halls again.” While her voice is firm, I don’t miss the brief mist passing through her eyes.

She hasn’t mentioned my knowing about the blackmail before she did. Maybe she doesn’t know. I decide not to say anything.

“How is he?” I blurt out before I allow myself to think it over.

Rae takes a deep breath, as she seems to carefully choose her words. “Well. He’s been better. He’s certainly been worse, but he’s been better. He knows he fucked up, and I remind him of that daily. I thought it was him walking in when you did. He should be here ...”

I can feel my face flush as she finishes her sentence. 
He’ll be here
.
It’s what I wanted, but now that it’s happening, I feel like I’m drowning again.

“Ember?”

“Oh. Sorry, yeah. You remind him that he fucked up? I’ve been trying not to think about it. I guess it wasn’t that bad ...” I try in vain to protect his image for his little sister.

“Did you get drunk this morning? Of course it was that bad. He should have told you as soon as he knew it was you. I can’t believe it was you that tried to help him when he got in that fight behind the garage, and then you two end up meeting a few days later? Damn.” I’ve never seen Rae’s face this shade of serious.