Rory wanting to change the terms of their agreement, Adam not responding to any of her texts or messages telling him not to come over tonight—so much for a nice, quiet evening home alone—and Luca calling her last night, drunk, crying, telling her Frankie had threatened to break up with him if he got on the plane to New York.
She plopped into the leather chair behind her dad’s desk. She used to always feel like such a big shot as a little girl when he’d let her sit there. She put her feet up on the shiny wood surface—something he hated, but he wasn’t there to see, so tough—pushed into a recline, and closed her eyes.
Thank goodness Rory hadn’t noticed the box of chocolates Adam had left on her porch. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation between the two men, for Rory to insist on sticking around and maybe getting hurt, because of her. No. They’d stick to the plan. Rory would return home, safe and sound. She inhaled deeply to the count of three, held it to the count of three, then blew it out to the count of three, and tried to relax.
“Everything is going to work out fine,” she told herself, inhaling, holding her breath, then releasing it again. “Everything is going to go exactly according to plan.” She repeated her relaxation breathing. “You will miraculously get all of your strength and flexibility back in time for the audition. On December twenty-first you will give the best performance ever. And come the New Year you will begin your new life.”
Of course, for those three very important things to happen she’d have to make it through saying goodbye to Rory and dealing with Adam, Luca would have to be at the airport tomorrow morning when she went to pick him up, and she’d have to survive the next two weeks of practice hell.
Easy peasy.
Yeah, right.
—
Rory dragged out unpacking Neve’s car for as long as he could. Back at her condo, he took his time gathering up his stuff and shoving it into his duffle, pretending he couldn’t find his watch—which he’d stuck between the couch cushions. He’d searched local restaurants online, finding those that offered takeout, read their menus, some more than once, before finally deciding what he wanted to order for dinner. He ate at her kitchen table, slowly, to delay his departure and prolong their time together for as long as he could.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as she sat looking down at her plate, pushing some steamed string beans around with her fork, not eating.
“You understand why this has to be the end of us, don’t you?”
He shook his head. “No, actually, I don’t.” They were good together. He liked her, really, really liked her, heading-toward-love liked her, and didn’t want to lose her.
She set down her fork. “Remember when we were in my car at the school?”
“Yes.” A night he’d never forget.
“I told you I’d had the most fun I’d ever had on a date. Do you remember what you said?”
He shook his head.
“You said, ‘I find that hard to believe.’ Like you were thinking back on what I’d told you about my past, like I’d done so much stuff with so many other guys you couldn’t possibly believe I’d had the most fun with you.”
“That’s not—”
“My past will always be there between us. I’ll never be able to move on. You’ll never let me.”
Not true. “Can I talk now?”
“You can talk all you want, but nothing you say is going to change my mind.”
But he had to at least try. “When I said it, I meant I found it hard to believe that particular date with me could be the most fun you’ve ever had, when I complained all through dinner, taunted you with fast food and movie popcorn, and had a humiliating mental breakdown in a parking lot in front of dozens of people. And let’s not forget we got caught having sex in a car, in the parking lot of an elementary school, by your brother and his partner.” He looked directly at her. “You’re the one who took an innocent comment out of context and is now using it as a rationalization for why we have to end. To be honest, I think you’re more hung up on your past than I am. To use your phrase, news flash, Neve, we all have a past. We’ve all done stupid things we regret. Get over it.”
“I don’t regret—”
“I think you do. I think you talk a big story, but you really do regret some of the choices you’ve made. And rather than deal with them and come to terms with them and move on, you’re planning to disconnect and start over, pretend your past never happened, pretend we never happened. And even though I agreed to us ending when you move on to your new life, I think it’s a mistake. I think we have something good going. I think we should—”
“Stop. It doesn’t matter what you think.” She balled up her napkin, threw it on the table, and stood. “You don’t have to understand my reasons for doing what I’m doing, or even accept them. But I expect you to respect them and honor our agreement.” She pointed to the clock on the microwave. “It’s eight o’clock. It’s time for you to go.”
Just like that. “But we’re not finished—”
“Yes. We are.”
“Why are you pushing me away? Why can’t I stick around a little while longer so we can talk this out?”
“Because there’s nothing more to talk about.” She walked to the front door and opened it. With the cold air blowing in, she stood there, waiting for him to leave.
The time had come.
Rory put on his jacket and boots, collected his duffle and backpack, and met her in the entryway.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Me too.” He looked deep into her eyes, saw sadness and hurt mixed with strength and determination. Rory dropped his bags. “May I kiss you goodbye?”
She gave him a little smile. “Try getting out of here if you don’t.”
Rory took it slow, gentle, pouring every bit of his caring and affection into that kiss. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Neve gave every bit of her caring and affection to him. When he pulled away, he saw tears in her eyes. On some level he liked seeing them there, liked knowing this separation was just as difficult for her as it was for him. He didn’t like it or agree with it, but he would do his best to respect her decision…while holding out hope at some point she’d change her mind.
“No matter what happens,” he told her, “you have an open invitation to come visit me in Boston.”
She looked up at him, without emotion. But he could feel the tension radiating off of her. “I won’t.”
He put his fingers to her lips. “Don’t decide now. It’s okay for plans to change, okay to change your mind. We’re friends. You will always be welcome.” And without giving her a chance to say anything more, he planted a quick kiss on her lips and left. Not looking back had to have been one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
After leaving, Rory drove to his doughnut shop for the second time that day, still unsure where he was headed, but certain he wouldn’t be heading anywhere until after he confirmed Neve didn’t need his help to get rid of Adam. In his car in the parking lot of the doughnut shop Rory ate his crullers and drank his coffee, enjoying the quiet, taking some time to think. Then he called Shane.
Before he knew it, over an hour and a half had passed, leaving about twenty short minutes until Adam would be arriving at Neve’s house. Or maybe he wouldn’t, maybe she’d told him not to come and he’d abide by her wishes.
Either way, Rory would be there, just in case she needed him. He turned his key in the ignition.
Chapter 17
Not that she ever would, but after Rory left Neve felt like curling into a ball and crying. But there was no time—if she wanted to be out of her condo before Adam arrived she had a lot to do.
First she wrote the note she would tape to the door telling him, once again, they were over, that she’d moved out, and not to bother the new tenant. Hopefully, when he arrived to find her condo dark—except for the porch light illuminating the note—he’d get the message and stop coming by.
Then she cleaned the kitchen and bagged up the pe
rishable food she’d be taking to her parents’ house, where she’d be staying for the next few weeks until she left town for good. After throwing all of her toiletries into an overnight suitcase, she made her first trip out to her car.
Watching the clock closely, Neve packed up her clothes. Luckily she’d done a lot of work ahead of time, so not much remained in her bedroom. Even so, getting everything together and cleaning up enough to make the place look presentable took longer than she’d thought it would.
At a quarter past nine she climbed onto her bed to take down the posters that’d defined her teenage ideas of love. Back rubs. Foot rubs. Holding hands. Breakfast in bed. Cuddling on the couch. Having fun doing nothing. Being silly. Caring kisses. Making each other smile. Carrying her stuff. Making her feel special. And so on…
As she read them, one by one, Neve realized, either on purpose or by total coincidence, that Rory had done them all. Her heart warmed as she let herself take a few minutes to remember….Then she sat up straight and ripped the stack of posters right down the middle. The comics she’d saved since childhood were next to go, into the trash. Time to grow up. Her definitions of love had changed. She needed an honest man who would trust her and believe in her, who would accept her, faults and all, and support her decisions, even if he didn’t agree with them.
Rory met her adult requirements too. Her heart ached with loss, and indecision crept in. In forcing him to go, had she made another bad decision she’d later regret?
A loud knocking on her front door jolted Neve off of the bed. She glanced at the clock. Nine forty. Shit. She’d lost track of time. And Adam had come early.
“Neve,” he yelled. The lights were on, but at least she’d closed all the blinds. “Neve.” He knocked some more. “I know you’re in there. Open the door.”
Her doorbell rang…and rang and rang. The knocking progressed from a friendly “Come on, babe, don’t keep me waiting” to a demanding “I know you’re in there, so open the fucking door!” pounding.
“Neve,” he yelled again, his voice sounding close because he was knocking on her bedroom window this time, hard. She ran into the hallway…like he might actually break through the glass. Not likely. Calm down. She inhaled, then exhaled, and concentrated on slowing her breathing.
“Neve,” he yelled even louder, loud enough for her neighbors to hear. “It’s me, Adam.” As if she didn’t know. “I’m not leaving until you come talk to me face-to-face.”
Damn it. She did not want to talk to him, through the door or -to-face-to-face or at all. She ran to the kitchen, as quietly as she could, and grabbed her cellphone from her pocketbook. Finding the lights on, knowing she was inside, she believed Adam when he said he wouldn’t leave.
So she dialed Nate.
He picked up on the second ring. “Hey. It’s late. You have to be on the road to pick up Luca early tomorrow. What’s up?”
“You in the area?” Please say yes.
“Nah. Got caught up on a call, we’re on our way back to the station.”
Thirty minutes away. She bounced on her toes, trying to release some nervous energy.
Adam kept banging. “Come on, babe. It’s cold out here.”
“Who’s that?” Nate asked.
“Could you stop by here on your way? Sooner rather than later?”
Nate’s cop voice emerged. “What’s wrong? Who’s at the door?”
“Adam’s here again.”
“That guy’s trouble, I told you to stay away from him.”
“I’ve been trying to. Only he’s not taking no for an answer.”
“Wait a minute. What do you mean ‘again’? He’s done this before?”
Neve dropped her forehead into her hand, Nate’s censure in one ear and Adam’s banging and yelling in the other. “Yes. Again.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was trying to handle things on my own.” First by ignoring Adam, but eventually by texting him and leaving a few messages telling him she wasn’t interested in getting back together—not that they did any good.
“Neve, you—” Nate yelled.
“Stop,” she cut him off. “I look forward to your lecture when you get here. Just get here. Quick. I have to answer the door before my crotchety old neighbor hears.” And calls the condo board and/or her rude son who got off on making trouble—which Neve would not have time to deal with over the next two weeks. Plus Adam had to be stopped or he’d terrorize her tenant.
“Do not open that door.”
“Just enough to talk to him, to get him to quiet down until you get here.”
“Neve, don’t—”
Hanging up the phone, she tiptoed to the front door, like it mattered if he could hear her, the hardwood floor cold on her bare feet. Before opening it, she looked through the peephole to make sure he was alone. The big oaf stood there, tall, blond, and handsome, his brain as worthless as all the stringy stuff inside a cantaloupe—and probably similar in texture from all the drugs he did.
A while back, she had been bored with the same old thing, and the rumors of his dark sexual appetites had appealed to her adventurous side. So she’d invited him to her home a few times. Following his lead, she’d gained confidence to take charge in her own right, until she’d traveled as far along that path as she felt comfortable going.
Adam wanted to keep going.
Neve unlocked the door, easing it open, leaving just enough space for her to fit her head out, keeping her body pressed in behind, blocking the door from opening farther—even though Adam could bench-press her with one arm. Getting control here would take confidence and finesse. She could do it—she’d managed Adam plenty of times before. “Stop that banging. I told you not to come here tonight. We’re over. I’m seeing someone.” Not anymore, though. Rory’s departure from her life sat like a heavy weight on her heart, creating an uncomfortable pressure in her chest.
“If you’re answering the door alone that must mean he’s not here now.”
As if her boyfriend’s—well, made-up boyfriend’s—absence made it perfectly okay for her to invite Adam in for sex. “I heard you were dating Bev.”
“We broke up. She’s not you, babe. Come on. Let me in.”
“No,” she said firmly. “Go away.”
He put a hand high on the door and pushed. Neve pushed back, starting to regret opening it in the first place. “Stop that.” She stood firm, even as her feet started to slide.
Two seconds later she fully regretted opening the door when a guy she didn’t recognize appeared from around the front of her condo and joined Adam on her front porch. “Come on, honey.” He held up a six-pack of beer. “Don’t play hard to get. We come bearing gifts.” He walked toward her.
Neve realized her mistake immediately and pushed on the door with everything she had.
But it was too late.
The stranger pushed inside. He was shorter than Adam, thinner, with dark hair. While they shared the same bloodshot eyes, the stranger’s had a cunning smugness that gave Neve a chill unrelated to the cold air that’d accompanied them in.
Adam held up a four-pack of wine coolers proudly. “Didn’t forget you. Brought some of that sweet girly shit you like. To get you in the mood to party.” He smiled that devious “tonight’s gonna be a hot one” smile.
The stranger unscrewed the top off one of the bottles and handed it to her. “Hurry up and catch up, sweetness, because we’re ready to go as soon as you are.” He brazenly cupped the bulge in his jeans.
Neve took the bottle, planning to take things slow and act cool to give Nate time to arrive. Speaking of which, she walked to the door, pretending to make sure it was closed and locked, when she really unlocked it in case Nate didn’t have her key with him. She took a sip from the wine cooler, the sweet syrupy liquid bringing back unpleasant memories of her last encounter with Adam, when he’d shared some new things he’d wanted to try, when she’d realized it was time to end things between them. “So who’s your friend?” S
he looked the newcomer up and down, praying Nate would hurry.
“This is Zac.”
Zac eyed her right back. “How about you take off that big, ugly sweatshirt and give me a good look at what Adam keeps going on and on about.”
Stupid Adam.
“Too cold.” She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered for effect, thankful the sweatshirt happened to be one of her biggest and rattiest, falling to midthigh. And thankful she was wearing loose, shapeless yoga pants.
“Give her time to warm up. It’ll be worth it,” Adam said, like an excited school boy waiting for recess. Although the way he looked at her was all hot, horny, “not going to take no for an answer,” fully grown male. “She’s got a body that could make you come from just looking at it.”
Looking at it, not her. To him all that mattered was her body, her flexibility, her willingness to fuck and try new things. He didn’t care about Neve as a person with a brain and feelings and dreams for the future, didn’t see her as someone worth caring about. Not like Rory had. All Adam wanted was sex, all he thought her good for was sex.
“And what she can do on that stripper pole.” Adam looked off as if lost in a memory, his hand gravitating to his crotch. “Un-fucking-natural.”
She didn’t bother explaining it was an exercise pole, not a stripper pole, because while she’d had it installed as an exercise pole, she had, in fact, used it as a stripper pole way too often.
“Drink up, honey.” Zac walked toward her. “I’m not much for waiting.” He wrapped his hand around her back and tugged her close. “People to see, places to go, and all.”
“I told you not to come here tonight, Adam.” She glanced in his direction. “My brother’s on his way.” She locked eyes with Zac, swallowing down a retch at the stench of his rotten beer breath. “He’s a cop.”
“Then I guess we’d best hurry it up.” He reached for the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it up.
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