“That’s also stupid.” Steph jumps up and storms off to the bedroom. She scrambles around, throwing clothes into the big hiking backpack where she brought all her stuff in. “I’m done, with all of this. Let’s just go back to Denver, and we can pretend this never even happened.”
“I don’t want to do that, though. That’s not…ugh. That’s not it at all.”
“Okay, well, that’s it for me. I don’t want this. I want the Adam I know, not some new age Adam who gets all into crystals or something. Not that there’s anything wrong with crystals. Crystals are fine. I just don’t want some guy who says he has to figure out who he is when I already know who he is. It’s so obvious. You’re the only person who doesn’t know. If you can’t see it now, you never will. And you talk about wanting to give me better? Well, I don’t want that. I…just…whatever. I’m just done. I want to go home. Can we just please do that?”
“I’m not trying to hurt you, and I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to process everything.”
She looks up sharply, a shirt in hand. “Jesus, Adam, you’ve had years to do that. You’ve been alone for years already. Just admit it. I was just someone you used to get over your ex. That’s fine. It was good. Yeah, the best I’ve had in a while, but that’s not saying much. You have great bedroom skills. Amazing, actually. And a big dick. Anything else you’d like me to say to pump up your ego? No? That will be three grand then since you said you were into paying me to say nice things.”
“Not that way,” I mutter. God, I’m an asshole, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t want to be one, but Steph sure is making it sound like I am. “You somehow misunderstood me because you’re pissed off. I never used you, and I would never do that. I would never sleep with you to get over someone else. That’s a terrible thing to even consider.” I guess I must sound pretty damn pathetic because Steph looks up again. When she sees I’m serious, that I’m hurting, and I feel like shit too, some of the anger lines knitting her eyebrows together loosen a little.
“Whatever,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry. Maybe I didn’t mean that. I just want to go home. Can you please help me pack?”
What I want to do is take her in my arms and hold her and kiss her and tell her I’m not going anywhere. That I’ve realized so much shit, and as soon as the dust settles, I’ll be able to give her all of me. That maybe I’ve wanted to do that for so much longer than just these past couple of days. That I didn’t realize all these years, at least the past couple, when she’s been working right beside me, I’ve come to depend on her, but also, I’ve come to care about her too.
I’m an idiot. Why did I have to realize it so late? Why didn’t I see it a year ago? The year before that? It was there. I know it was there. I just tamped it down under all the bullshit I preferred to think about and feel instead.
Maybe I didn’t think I deserved to have someone care about me. I don’t know.
Whatever I felt, when I look at Steph and the pain she’s in, even though she’s putting on a brave face and storming around packing, I know I’ve hurt her.
And somehow, this feels so much worse than what happened with Ex-Stephanie just about an hour ago.
CHAPTER 21
Stephanie
A few days off.
This is the first time I’ve ever asked for time off other than the vacation time I’ve booked, and even that is only once a year.
I asked Adam—when he dropped me off at my house—if I could have a few days off, and he just nodded grimly. It made me go a step further and inform him sadly that he didn’t have to pay me. It would only further dilute what we’d shared.
As in past tense.
After what happened with Adam’s ex-wife, I’m pretty sure we’re not going to continue on with being a couple, with dating, and with any sort of relationship other than our work relationship. I don’t think he’s ready. I think the run-in with Stephanie and her spiteful words wounded him beyond ever being ready. They came at the worst time. Any time would have been the worst time, but especially then. We were still in an innocent state of bliss—a fragile, beautiful, and bright beginning like a fresh morning rain-washed and laden with dew, all sparkly and new and sunny. Then Stephanie had come into it like a huge thundercloud, a thundercloud that rained down shit if such a thing was possible. She rained shit all over that beautiful morning and all future mornings.
She ruined everything.
I promised Adam I wasn’t going anywhere, that I wouldn’t, no matter what happened. How easy it was to promise. I didn’t make it lightly, but I didn’t think it would hurt this much. I vastly underestimated how hard it is to be an adult.
And now I’m ten thousand dollars down on my plans for the roof. The money doesn’t matter. It seriously doesn’t, but I can’t fix my roof if I don’t hav
e a job, and I did promise Adam, so after he dropped me off, all the thoughts I had all day yesterday and this morning about quitting were not exactly relevant.
It’s early now, just after five. Of course, I’m awake because I hardly slept last night. Or the night before. I just kept playing what ex-Stephanie had said over and over. How it destroyed Adam and how he looked at me like his entire life—past, present, and future—was broken. Like there was no room in it for the good things like trust, hope, friendship, and maybe even love.
I really wish those time machine socks were a thing. I don’t believe everything is predestined or fated because if I did, I’d have to say Adam and I were fated not to work out no matter what. That the universe was sending us subtle signs by snakes, crashing tents, and sunburns to keep us apart, even if it didn’t work. None of it worked, because nothing is predestined. Well, I’d like to mess with time. I’d like to go back and be the one Adam met. This Stephanie, not the other Stephanie. Not the evil Stephanie who used him from the first, who scarred him so deep that even years later, he still didn’t believe in himself the way he should. I’d like to be the one who he fell in love with, who married him. I’d like to be the one at his side, wrapped up in his arms at night, celebrating all the milestones together, supporting him, and working with him even. Instead, I’m like the second place wife. I manage his life, I get his clothes cleaned, I grocery shop for him, I make sure his house gets cleaned, his pool gets cared for, and I make sure all those details are covered.
But I’m not his wife. Not even a second-place wife. And I never will be.
Those depressing thoughts have kept me company endlessly since I got dropped off. I asked for a few days, but I didn’t specify how many. And Adam didn’t either. I don’t know how many that means, and I don’t know how many more I need before I feel normal again. I’m not going to say good, because I doubt I’ll ever feel good, but a close approximation of normal. More the old me—the Stephanie who was ready to go to work and tackle anything, the Stephanie who didn’t look at her boss with longing, and the Stephanie who was oblivious because she thought she didn’t stand a chance as Adam was emotionally unavailable.
It turns out I wasn’t overly wrong.
He is unavailable. If I had just stuck with that, maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much now.
I have a queen-sized bed, and I clutch the pillow from the other side to my chest. I dig my nails in and stare out the window. It’s slowly getting to be light out, and I know that soon, I should get up and do something with my day if I’m not going in to work. The world isn’t going to stop just because my heart hurts. It’s something I’m going to have to learn to deal with, as millions and millions of other people have before me.