Chapter Nine

Genevieve

“We maybe should have just sprung for the hotel room?” I say, looking around at the room I’ve lived in since I was a child. It seems even smaller with Adam’s large frame in the doorway and his duffel taking up half of my full size bed.

“It’s fine. I mean, we’ll be moving into our own place tomorrow. It’s just one night,” he says, trying to reassure me that he isn’t the least bit disappointed that he’ll be spending his wedding night at his bride’s parents’ house.

In a room that has a snow globe collection and stacks of dog-eared romance novels with half-clothed couples on metallic covers.

“Yeah, it would have just been a waste of money, really. We’d have to stay all the way across town and get up even earlier to drive to the apartment…and…” I look up at him, his green eyes still bright in the dim room. I swallow and squeak out, “We’re just going to crash anyway, right?”

Adam nods, but looks less than sincere in his agreement.

I feel alien and exposed in this space I’ve known intimately for my whole life, but now will never sleep in again. My nerves are jittery from having Adam in this space that holds all the raw ghosts of the girl he doesn’t know anything about. The girl I’m not sure I want him to know anything about.

“We could still go, though? If you want? We can find a hotel with a vac—”

He takes a step into the room.

The room that once housed my extensive collection of pony figurines and a secret stash of photos of Deo. The room that once had posters of boy bands tacked to the walls and has the same bed that I buried my face in when I cried over too many stupid high school dramas, too many times. The room that I’ll be sharing tonight with my husband.

“Gen, it’s really okay. We’re both spent as it is. Let’s just call it a night.”

It’s my turn to nod. “Okay. I’m just going to brush my teeth. And change,” I say, awkwardly.

This is the man I married today. I should be able to strip this dress off in front of him without feeling nervous. Instead, I’m stealthily trying to dig a camisole and pair of shorts out of my dresser drawer so I can change down the hall.

It shouldn’t be so weird.

I like Adam. If I’m completely honest, I more than like him. Much more.

There’s a part of me that’s dying to know what he’s hiding under all of those lab coats, a part that’s dying to touch him. But he hasn’t made a move, so I guess we’re just not there…yet.

I brush my teeth, then debate whether or not to wash the makeup from my face. Adam’s never seen me without a full face of makeup. I guess it’s too late for him to back off based on that, though. So, I pull my hair back into a sloppy ponytail and scrub off the thick layer of wedding makeup.

After I’ve changed, I tiptoe back down the hall to my room, hoping I don’t wake anyone else in the house. That’s all I need: a run-in with Mom on my wedding night.

Mom and Dad were the ones who suggested Adam and I stay at the house to begin with—and promised they’d stay out of our way. Lucky for them, this is probably going to be a wedding night that goes in the record books for having the least action ever.

I pause outside my bedroom door, which is now closed. Even though it’s my own room, I don’t know if I should knock, or just go in.

I crack the door enough to see Adam, in a pair of jogging shorts and white V-neck T-shirt, sitting in the purple polka dot armchair in the corner. Seeing him dressed down, not in a lab coat, or a shirt and tie, finally makes me get why he’s always mentioning my outrageous outfits, and how I look better when things are simpler. His feet are propped up on the matching ottoman and his eyes are closed. I clear my throat and his eyes flick open.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he says. He rubs a hand across his cheek and then his eyes. “Guess I was more worn out than I thought.”

“That’s okay. I’m pretty beat, too.”

I pull back the blankets from my bed and slip my legs under the familiar sheets. As awkward as this is for me, it has to be a thousand times worse for Adam, forced out of his element—the lab, where he knows exactly what’s going on and what to do—and stuck instead in this house full of virtual strangers with a wife he barely knows.

He watches me reposition the pillows behind me before asking, “Did you want me to turn the light off for you?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

So polite. So timid. So not how I envisioned my wedding night.

He gets up from the chair and crosses the room. I can see the outline of his firm chest under his thin shirt, and wonder why I never really noticed how fit he is.

He turns the lamp off. I see his dark frame move back toward the chair.

“Adam, you can come to bed with me. I mean, I know it’s my parents’ house, but we’re married now, so it’s okay. I mean, if you want to.”

He doesn’t reply, but I feel his weight shift the bed as he slides in next to me.

“We are married now.” His voice is quiet, and I think I hear a smile backing it. My heart hammers so hard, I’m afraid he’ll feel it pulsing through the mattress springs.

The darkness acts as our safety net, the shield that stops us from confronting a line we aren’t ready to cross. It makes the conversation lighter. Easier.

“Can you believe Enzo’s date?” I say, with a laugh, snuggling under the covers. “She was so hammered, I think before the wedding even started. She must’ve had a fifth of Patron on the way, right?”

Adam shifts onto his back, putting one arm behind his head, and chuckles. “Yeah, Enzo didn’t seem too happy with her toward the end of the night.”

I snort, and when I move my leg it brushes his, hairy and warm. A hot, sweet need bursts to life low in my body, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

“I don’t think he cared all that much. Maren told me she caught them going at it in Deo’s shop during the reception. Gross. Enzo isn’t known for his high standards in women, though.”

“Ah, I wonder if the caterer’s daughter would disagree with that,” Adam says with a conspiratorial laugh. He runs a foot along my calf. I’d think it’s just an accidental brush because the bed is so damn small, but the movement is slow. And he makes a soft sound in his throat, like a hum of pleasure.

My scalp prickles. I have a hard time catching my breath, but I manage to ask, “What do you mean?”

He rolls onto his side, and when he smiles, the little bit of light from the moon shines in and glints on his teeth. “I walked in on him and the blonde when I went to find my car keys.”

“That little asshole!” I say, rolling to my side. Our bodies seem to pull to the center of the bed, toward each other.

Our laughter in the darkness feels freeing and good, and makes me just bold enough to reach over under the blankets and hold my husband’s hand.

He makes that low hum again and squeezes my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles and down each of my fingers. “It was a great day, though. You looked beautiful, Gen. You are beautiful.”

His sweet, sleepy words make me flush hot enough to kick the covers off my feet. “Thanks, professor. You looked pretty dapper yourself.”

His free hand caresses the side of my face with gentle pressure. “Thank you. For everything, I mean…you’ve turned your life upside down for me, and I won’t forget that.” His voice is low and has a rawness that feels so full of truth.

I rub my cheek into his hand and close my eyes tight, wanting the way I feel in this moment to draw out long into the night. “You have to stop thanking me, Adam. How could I not with that proposal? And that ring. And…you.”

“Good night, Gen.” He presses his lips to my forehead with a quick kiss, lets his hand slide from my face, disentangles our fingers, then turns his back to me to fall asleep.

I want to tell him to roll back over. To kiss me. To make this a proper wedding night. But I’m so damn tired, and it feels right to settle in next to Adam for the first time ever, and just sleep.