Chapter Eighteen

“Not sure what I did to deserve Elle, but despite all the crazy, she’s never left my side or my heart. Always been dependable. Always put me first.” Blue Moon

There were many things Adam hated. Sand in his shoes, stale Cheetos. But worst of all? Standing at the airport, holding a stupid sign along with twenty-five balloons. All while waiting for a flight that had emptied out an hour ago.

His head ached as he checked his phone for the zillionth time. The cleaner gave him an apologetic smile that roughly translated to “ouch, dude.”

There were so many reasons she could have missed the flight. Or not answered his calls. Traffic. Catastrophic floral emergency. Sick dog. All perfectly valid.

All wishful thinking.

There was only one reason for her no-show.

It took several tries to jam the sign into the trash can. The balloons were passed to a couple of little kids who were crying. They immediately smiled. At least someone was happy.

Night had fallen by the time he reached the apartment. He jabbed in the security code and marched inside. Humiliation pounded in his temples, the all-too-familiar sensation of not having any control over a situation. Of not coming first.

He threw his keys onto the counter as his phone finally rang. Laney. Might as well get it over and done with.

“Hey.”

“I didn’t know if you’d answer,” she said, voice distant.

“Is that what you wanted?” he said, not able to hide his hurt.

“Adam—” Her voice broke, and his anger faded. He didn’t even know why he was mad. This had always been coming. She’d told him right from the start she’d been married to a man she adored. Loved. The kind of never-ending love Doug and Mary had shared. Two halves of the same person.

She only wanted me to scratch an itch. A fling. Short-term.

I said I loved her, and she couldn’t even say it back.

I’m not just a fraud. I’m a fool.

“I take it you’ve made your choice.”

“It’s not like that. My feelings are…complicated.” She choked. “Everything’s all tied up together. I’ve been at the bottom too many times. I know what it’s like to have nothing. I can’t lose Jessica or my business. I know you think you can move to St. Clair, but face it, Adam. Your life in L.A. Your brother. Your job. It didn’t work last time, and nothing’s changed.”

Nothing’s changed?

Poker-hot pain ripped through him. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe this is real? Jessica, my book, our past? They’re all things we can work through. Can’t you just—” He broke off as understanding hit him. That’s what this was about. “You still don’t trust me.”

The line was silent. Eternity went by.

“I don’t trust myself. Adam, we were naked in the woods. And it’s not the first time. When I’m with you, I’m not myself. I become Nina, and I’m so tired of being someone I don’t want to be.”

He gripped the phone tighter, adrenaline flaring. This was a breakup. He should have known. Her answer was always going to be no.

She thinks I bring out the worst in her.

“That’s not how I saw you. I told you, Nina wasn’t real. She was just someone I made up,” he said, desperation mixing with bitterness, already knowing it was too late. The damage had been done from the moment he’d written the book.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “That’s how I feel. When I’m with you, I can’t trust myself, and that scares me. I almost lost Jessica. She’s the only one who’s stayed by my side. Not my father. Not Simon.”

Not you.

The words hung between them, silent and mocking. Not you.

The fight drained out of him.

It always came back to Simon.

And the fact she still loved him.

I can’t compete with a ghost.

He’d always accused her of being risk-averse. But that wasn’t true. She’d risked everything for her business. For her husband. Even for Jessica. There was only one person she didn’t think was worth taking a chance on.

Me.

“You’re right.” His gut twisted. When Eloise had broken up with him, she’d had to sleep with his brother to make sure he really got the message. Because she knew he’d just keep deluding himself.

He supposed he should be grateful Laney was taking the high road and just using a phone. This one was all on him and his overactive imagination. A soft sob broke his thoughts, and in the background, Violet barked, trying to comfort her.

“I wish it was different. I wish I was brave enough to make it work,” she said in a faltering voice. “Goodbye, Adam.”

She finished the call before he could reply.

Weights tugged at his ankles, the phone in his hand turning to concrete. This was why he didn’t do love. Because it was like being thrown off a cliff.

He wanted to smash his phone against the wall. Scream. Shout. But instead he just dropped it onto the table and lay back on the sofa as cold despair filled him. There was a reason it was called a breakup.

Because things got broken.

He was right back where he started.

Correction. This time it was worse. Because now he couldn’t vent it out in a book. He’d done that once, and it had been a disaster. Still, at least he wouldn’t forget. Wouldn’t let anything like this ever happen again.

He got up, dragged off his shirt, and found some running shorts and shoes. He needed to get out. To do something until every last thought of her had been driven from his mind.

…

Laney’s hand hurt. She looked down. Her fingers were still wrapped around her phone like a claw. Pointless. He wouldn’t call back now. Not after what she’d done.

He said he loved her. That he would wait. And she’d left him at an airport.

What are you really afraid of, Laney? Me leaving you, or people knowing we’re together?

His words bit down to the quick, hurting all the more because they were true. The pained expression in his eyes burned into her memory. He deserved more than to be stuck sneaking around with her. Waiting for her to be brave enough to pick him.

She loosened her grip, flicked the phone to “do not disturb,” and stood up from her pink sofa. Violet looked up from her basket, a little crown of daisies still perched on her scruffy head. Gray fabric poked out from under her. Curiosity prickled, and Laney slid a hand under Violet’s warm belly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I just want to see what you’ve got there.” She tugged out a large gray sweater and groaned. “You took this from Adam’s apartment?”

That first time, he’d used it to line a suitcase for Violet to sleep in, and somehow she’d managed to keep it. She sat down on the floor and hugged her dog, fur tickling her face.

“I’m going to give you some advice. Keeping that thing will not make it easier.”

Violet just licked Laney’s hand and climbed back into the basket. They really were well matched.

It had to stop.

She padded into the spare room. The place where all of Simon’s possessions were still hanging in the closet, sitting on the bookshelves, even lined up on the little old wooden writing desk that had been his as a boy.

And where she kept the suitcase.

She dragged it out from under the bed. Dust blew up as she flipped the lid. Old clothes were folded up, and she lifted them before prizing away the cardboard covering the base. There was only one thing left in there.

A pale blue sweatshirt.

Unlike the one on the cover of the book, this had been stretched and faded, and there were holes in the sleeves while the cuffs were frayed and worn.

And yet I’ve still got it.

Her worst secret of all.

That she really was Nina. The whole time she was married, she’d kept the stupid sweatshirt, letting it lie at the bottom of a suitcase, hidden away. Her secret shame. The thing she’d never told her husband about. He wouldn’t even have minded. But the longer she’d left it, the harder it had become. And why risk it?

The sweatshirt had been part of her past. She wasn’t even sure why she’d kept it. Lie. Okay. She knew. They’d been out one night, and she’d been cold, so Adam had gallantly hooked it over her. It was miles too big, but his scent had been all over it, wrapping her up like an embrace.

Unlike the book suggested, she hadn’t kept it on purpose. She hadn’t even realized he’d left it in her apartment until several months after the breakup. Part of her had wanted to send it back to him; the other part—the lonely part—had told her to keep it. Then the book had come out, and it was far too late to give it back.

None of which explained why she still had it.

The guilt increased. After Simon had died and she’d sold the cottage, she’d been forced to go through all of his possessions. Jessica had helped. They’d both kept as many things as they could, but there were still piles of suits, jeans, shoes, and his entire collection of fantasy books that had all been collected by Goodwill.

What kind of wife am I to have kept this instead of one of Simon’s shirts?

Hot shame swept over her as she balled the sweatshirt in her hands. The trash was collected first thing in the morning.

“And you’re going to be in it,” she announced, marching down the stairs and out to the courtyard. There were no lights from next door because Adam was gone. Low branches threw dark shadows across the cobblestones as moonlight flooded in, but she hurried on, Violet softly padding after her.

The hypnotic ebb and flow of the water as it lapped the shore hung in the air. Her feet were bare as she reached the trash can.

She lifted up the lid and dropped it in.

The pale blue fabric collapsed like a broken body against the remains of last night’s meal.

And Nina slashed at that sweatshirt like it was flesh and bone, her face contorted in a furious mask of righteous anger. She hated it. Hated it.

“Oh, hell.” Laney snatched it back out. Obviously, being a hardened criminal wasn’t in her future career path. Violet nudged her ankle, huge eyes unblinking. “Stop judging me.”

It couldn’t stay. She’d closed the door for good, but if she held onto the sweatshirt, she might try and use it like a spare key.

Was that why she’d kept it all this time?

“Rwoar,” Violet complained.

“Shhhh,” Laney chided.

“You okay, honey?” Mrs. Brendan from the post office was out strolling.

Yup. Just talking to my dog. Good news is I’m totally sane. At least until she starts talking back.

“I’m fine.”

“If you say so.” The old woman’s eyes swept across Laney’s outfit, which consisted of pajama bottoms and an inside-out T-shirt. “See you at the town meeting tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there.”

When the old woman had gone, Laney dropped the sweatshirt back into the trash.

There. It was done. Then she hurried inside before she could change her mind again. The fling was finally over.