As I head home from Lily’s house, I feel like a ship adrift.
My thoughts are churning like stormy seas and all I want is to retreat to my apartment—to be alone with the chaos swirling inside me. But fate, it seems, has other plans, as it tugs at my intuition.
I’m halfway up the stairs to my place when I pause.
The familiar sounds from Grandma’s apartment seep through the door—the clink of china, the hum of her old radio.
I know I should just go home and sort through the tangled-up mess in my head, but something pulls me back down the steps and towards her door.
I knock softly, and her voice, warm and inviting, calls out, “Carlie, is that you? Come in, dear.”
Grandma’s sitting at her kitchen table with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. One that I know all too well. “Carlie, just the person I wanted to see. I need your help with something.”
I can’t help but smile despite everything. She always has a way of drawing me in, even when I’m determined to shut the world out.
“What do you need help with?” I ask, walking through her open dining area. When I reach her, I pull my phone from my pocket, set it on the table, and sink into a chair beside her.
Her grin spreads and my insides coil as she replies, “I need enlightenment.”
Nothing good can come from that smile.
Why did I think it was a good idea to come here again?
Clearing my throat, I sit up straighter. “Enlightenment on what … exactly?”
“I noticed you didn’t come home last night,” she begins, her white eyebrows waggling.
Despite myself, heat rushes to my cheeks and I pat them down, as if somehow, it might keep the blush at bay.
“So, spill it,” she continues with a knowing glint lighting up her irises. “Why didn’t you come home last night? And don’t try to butter me up with some tall tale, young lady. This grandma knows better. I saw the way you’ve been mooning over that personal trainer of yours. What’s his name ... Adam?”
I sigh, sinking back into my chair. Geez, she always had a way of cutting right to the chase. “Yeah, Adam.”
My admission hangs in the air, and I brace myself for the inevitable barrage of questions.
Grandma leans in with unbridled curiosity. “So, did Mr. Muscles sweep you off your feet yet? Or should I be sharpening my pitchfork?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “No pitchforks needed, Grandma. He’s … he’s different.”
“Different, eh?” Grandma taps her chin thoughtfully. “That’s what they all say, dear. Before you know it, you’re knee-deep in gym socks and protein powder.”
I roll my eyes, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It’s not like that. We just ... connected, you know?”
Grandma nods sagely, though there’s a knowing glint in her eye. “Oh, I know all about ‘connecting.’ In my day, we called it—”
“Grandma—” I cut her off, my cheeks flaming again. There’s only so much ‘enlightenment’ I can handle.
She laughs, a hearty, joyful sound that fills the room. “I’m just teasing you, dear. But seriously, is everything okay? You should have that after-sex glow. Instead, you look like—”
Just then, my phone buzzes, derailing our conversation. I glance at the screen—it’s a text from Lily.
My heart sinks. This can’t be good.
I’ve only been gone fifteen minutes.
“Everything’s ... complicated,” I admit, standing up. “I’ve got to take this, Grandma. Thanks for the chat.”
She reaches out, grabbing hold of my hand and causing me to pull up short. “Carlie, dear, men are like books. Some are open and easy to read, while others have chapters that are more complex and take time to understand. But if he’s worth it, you’ll find a way to read between the lines.”
A smile flickers on my lips and I nod. “That’s one way to put it.”
But her words resonate with me.
Adam is definitely a book with hidden chapters … but so am I.
Grandma gives me a knowing nod as I step away, phone in hand.
I head upstairs to my apartment and take a seat on my couch while I dial Lily. My stomach twists itself into knots with each ring.
“Hi, Lily, it’s Carlie.” My voice quivers slightly as she picks up and I have no idea why.
“Carlie, thank God,” Lily’s voice is tinged with urgency. “Have you seen what’s happening on Adam’s Instagram?”
My heart skips a beat and my stomach full-on plummets. Instagram hasn’t been overly kind to us.
Did someone find out we were both at Nocté?
“No, what’s going on?” I breathe, clutching my phone close.
“It’s a mess. There are all these rumors swirling around about how he’s been using you to kickstart his new fitness biz. Now people are saying that he went to Jillian’s place this morning, trying to get back with her, or something. Were they dating?” Lily’s words come out in a rush, each one like a blow to my chest. “That’s what Anna was trying to text before you left. Had I known …”
I feel a cold chill run down my spine.
No, that can’t be true …
“But ... he was with me last night.” The words are barely a whisper, a plea for this not to be true.
“I know, and that’s why I’m worried about you,” Lily says softly. “There’s something else, Carlie. I wouldn’t have believed that he was over there, but I guess Jillian posted a photo of Adam at her door this morning with a really nasty caption.”
My fingers tremble as I open Instagram. Part of me is glad that I keep off social media so I can focus on writing—not that it’s been going well lately. The other part is kicking myself after the last time.
He’s been posting about our workouts and my progress. I should have been following Adam’s IG so I can keep tabs on things. If for no other reason than to protect myself from being blindsided like this.
I scroll through Adam’s profile. It’s a sea of pictures of him, of his new workout routine at home, and images of the logo he’s been working on for Foxx Fitness. Then, there are the few Reels and images of our workouts together.
There are comments everywhere claiming he’s just using me as a great before and after to launch Foxx Fitness. Some are just fucking rude—saying he’s a player—and it’s obvious based on his dating history.
I click over to someone else’s profile—a conspiracy post, by the looks of it, but I can’t seem to stop myself. It’s a collage of his recent dating history. There are fit, muscled women with big boobs and legs for days. They’re all blond and perfect and … nothing like me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“Carlie, are you there?” Lily asks, her voice tentative.
I swallow hard, switching back to Adam’s profile. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
But my gaze snags on Jillian’s comment under a photo of the two of us after a workout.
Way to take one for the team. She’s a walking disaster.
It’s vindictive—a clear jab meant to hurt.
What the fuck did I ever do to her?
Unless …
Were they together?
Panic claws at my insides and I tap on her profile.
“Do you need me to come over?” Lily asks, breaking through my inner turmoil.
But I can’t take my eyes off of it—her post.
There, in stark clarity, Adam is standing at Jillian’s door, the timestamp glaringly clear.
The caption cuts deep:
When your ex shows up unannounced wanting to rekindle things after slumming it for weeks … How pathetic. #MovedOn
I stare at the screen, a potent mixture of hurt and confusion swirling inside me.
I mean, I know I hid the truth about our night at Nocté, but … this. This is some next-level shit.
Was everything he said, everything we shared, just a lie?
Do I even know him?
The questions pound in my head like a relentless drumbeat. I thought I knew Adam—thought there was something real between us. But now, all of a sudden, everything I thought about him is up in the air.
The room spins around me. “Lily, I ... I don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
“I don’t know, Carlie. But maybe there’s an explanation. You need to talk to Adam and find out the truth. You know how shit like this can get blown way out of proportion.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, I need answers. Thanks, Lily.”
We end the call, and I sit there, numb.
The man I thought I was starting to know, to trust, is wrapped up in a scandal that paints him in a completely different light. The Adam I thought I knew seems like a mirage, fading away under the harsh light of these revelations.
Doubts cloud my mind, each one a haunting question about who Adam really is.
Has he just been playing me? Is he in cahoots with Jillian?
Or is there another side to this story—a chapter in his book that I haven’t read yet?
I close the Instagram app, feeling like the ground beneath me is crumbling.
But deep down, something doesn’t add up.
The Adam I’ve been with doesn’t match the man in those posts—the man Jillian is painting him to be.
I close my eyes and breathe. A part of me clings to the hope that there’s more to the story than these damaging posts.
God, I’m so confused.
My phone buzzes again, jolting me from my thoughts.
It’s a text from Adam, but not what I expect. There’s an urgency in his words that I haven’t seen before.
My heart nearly catapults from my chest.
An Instagram live? What is he planning to say?
My curiosity battles with my fear. I want to know what’s going on, but I don’t want to look like a fool again. I don’t think my heart could take it.
I reply, anxiety and anticipation threading through each word.
As I send the message, the reality of our situation sinks in.
Adam is about to publicly address the chaos, maybe even reveal his side of the story. And after that, we need to talk.
We both have things we need to get out in the open.
I settle onto the couch, my gaze fixed on my phone. The world outside falls away as I wait for Adam’s live video to start.
My stomach knots with hope and dread. This could be the moment that changes everything between us.
The seconds tick by, each one laden with expectation.
Then, my phone lights up with a notification.
Adam is live.