When I Was Yours (Page 9)

We didn’t want to wait to move until September as Casey had enrolled in some summer classes. She’d said she wanted to be ready for her courses this fall. Casey has always loved school, loved learning. It’s probably because she missed so much school when she was younger. Me? I couldn’t wait to get out of school. That probably explains why I still work in a coffee shop.

I glance at the clock again. It’s one minute before five.

“I’m gonna head out,” I say to Angie, one of the girls I work with.

We don’t close until nine p.m. I opened up, so Angie will close.

Getting ready to meet up with Adam, I head into the back and grab my thin jacket and my bag.

When I step back out behind the counter, Adam is standing there.

My eyes meet with his, and nerves ripple through me.

He looks as pissed as he did this morning.

He has every right to that anger, and I have to remind myself of that.

“Hi,” I say to him.

“Are you ready to go?”

Well, at least he’s asking me this time instead of telling me.

“Sure.” I come out from behind the counter, aware of Angie’s wide eyes on Adam.

I can understand why. Adam is a beautiful man, in every sense of the word—tall with eyes like a turquoise stone and a swimmer’s body. Add that in with his natural confidence and alpha stance, and women can’t help but stare.

Women ogling Adam was something I had to get used to when we were together, not that it ever really bothered me. Back then, I knew he loved me, and his eyes were only on me.

They’re still on me now, just not the way they used to be, and that hurts more than I can begin to explain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say to Angie.

“Yeah, see you,” she says.

I follow Adam over to the door in silence. He holds it open for me, letting me through first. It might seem like the gentleman is still in him, but I don’t think it is—well, not for me anyway. He’s probably just making sure I go through the door and don’t bolt behind the counter to make a run for it out the back door, which I’m now considering.

I can feel the rage emanating from him, and it’s smacking straight into me, like hail hitting a windowpane.

“Where do you want to go to…talk?”

Knowing Adam, he already knows where we’re going. He always was a take-charge person.

But I thought I should ask just so I know where I’m going to be killed before he dumps my body.

Just kidding. Kind of.

He cuts me a look. “I have a place here. We can talk there.”

Then, he stalks off through the lobby. I have to work my legs to keep up with his long strides.

Then, we’re out of the main hotel building, and I follow him through the gardens and toward the bungalows.

I haven’t been out here yet. I haven’t really had a chance to check out the hotel at all. It’s really pretty out here, and these bungalows must be expensive to rent.

“You live here all the time?” I ask from behind him, knowing that his studio is in Beverly Hills.

I wonder why he hasn’t gotten a house.

“During the week. I’m gone on weekends.”

Okay…I guess that’s all I’m getting.

We reach one of the larger bungalows. He seems to hesitate outside the door, almost as if he’s changed his mind about going inside with me.

Then, he seems to make his decision, and he unlocks the door, swinging it open.

All right then.

I take a deep breath and step inside, closing the door behind me.

He’s already taken his jacket off, and he is on the other side of the living space. By the looks of it, he’s pouring himself a drink.

Clasping my hands together, I edge a little farther into the room, not really sure what to do.

He throws back the whiskey he poured and then pours another. “You want one?” he asks.

“No, thank you.”

He turns to me, glass in hand. His index finger goes to his tie, and he loosens it before pulling it off and tossing it on the table. He undoes the top button on his shirt.

Eyes still on me, he takes another sip of his drink.

I move across a little and press my back to the wall, needing the support.

And we just stand here for a long time, saying nothing, with a world of pain seated right between us.

I know, in this moment, the years I’ve spent missing him feel like nothing in comparison to having him here before me yet so far away. I miss him now more than I have in all that time combined, and it hurts. Fuck, it hurts.

I look away, unable to look at him for a second longer, knowing if I do I’m going to break into pieces.

“You look exactly the same as you did.” His low words move across the room, touching my skin. “I hate that.” And those words pierce right in, burrowing deep.

I press a hand to my chest, trying to push the pain away. It doesn’t work.

“Why, Evie?” His words are soft but filled with pain.

I feel every ounce of his pain, and mixed with my own, it’s pure agony.

I part my dry lips, lifting my eyes to his face. But I can’t look him directly in the eyes. Looking at Adam is like staring into the sun.

“I…” I shake my head.

“Don’t say you don’t know because we both know you do.”

I feel like curling in on myself and dying.

I don’t want to have to lie to him. I’ve never been a good liar. And I’m afraid he’ll see through my lies now.

But I have to do this. I have no choice. I can’t tell him the truth. If I tell him that, he’ll hate me forever.

He already does hate you.

Taking a fortifying breath, I force my eyes to his. Shielding the truth behind them, I shut down. “It wasn’t working for me. You and me. I wasn’t happy, so I left.”

“Bullshit!” He slams his glass down on the table so hard that I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Evie. You owe me the truth. The least you owe me is that.”

The truth is a hard thing. He might think he wants the truth, but honestly, if he has it, I think he’d realize he never wanted it.

The truth can hurt, and this one would hurt him like a motherfucker.

Adam is well aware, more than most, at how low some people will go to get what they want, but this truth would show him an all new depth to that low. And it will also show him what others will do in the face of desperation.

“I’m not lying.” I’m going straight to hell.

I can’t even explain the level of anger I see crossing his face. It’s a rage I didn’t know existed in him.

I know Adam would never hurt me, but the way he’s looking at me right now makes me want to step back. Far back.

“You were happy.” His hard words come out through clenched teeth. “I saw it for myself. You married me, for fuck’s sake! So, don’t stand there and tell me that you weren’t happy. Just tell me the fucking truth!”

He’s not going to accept anything that I tell him, so maybe I have to be a bitch to give him the peace he needs on this.

“Was it Ava? Did she do something to make you leave?”

“No.”