Bittersweet (21 page)

“I
think he felt threatened by Adam.”

“Because
Adam is so brilliant?”

“Yes,”
Michael replied, drawing out the word thoughtfully. “That would be part of it.
But I think he was threatened by more than just that. Adam had the background
and education that Josh never had. And, of course—”

When
he cut off his next words, Zoe looked at him curiously. “And what?”

Michael
shook his head. “Nothing. I think there were a lot of reasons Josh felt threatened
by him, and you know how Josh reacted when he felt threatened.”

“Not
well.  I think he was coming around to Adam though. At the end, I think he…I
think he wanted a connection with him.”

“I
think so too.”

*
* *

“And here’s the
master bedroom,” Zoe announced, leading her mom into her new bedroom. “Doesn’t
it look great?”

She’d
felt a ridiculous thrill of pride as she’d showed her mother around her new
home. It was the first time she’d visited since Zoe moved.

“It’s
fabulous,” her mom said, gazing around. “I just love that bed.”

“Isn’t
it beautiful? Adam helped me find it through an antiques dealer he knows.” Zoe
walked over to caress the old wood of one of the posters and then moved her
hand down to the cream-colored duvet cover. “I wake up every morning and get
this silly thrill over the fact that I’m sleeping in this bed.”

 “Well,
it’s definitely not like anything you had growing up. And I love the oil
painting over the fireplace.”

Zoe
glanced over at the large piece of art hanging over the fireplace mantle—an
impressionist-style landscape of Lake Pace in greens, blues and golds. “Do you
think it’s good? We actually commissioned it because we couldn’t find a piece
that would suit the style and colors.”

She
laughed, remembering Adam’s response to several of the flowery paintings they’d
looked at. He’d been careful not to impose his opinion, but she’d read it very
easily in his lifted eyebrows and curled lip. She’d been tempted to pick out
something she knew he hated, just to see how he’d handle it. But nothing he
hated she really liked, and she wasn’t going to spend a lot of money for a
painting she didn’t love—just to tease Adam. So when he suggested they
commission a piece from a local artist he knew, she thought that was a great
idea. She could get exactly what she wanted for her room.

“It’s
perfect.” Her mother paused then, slanting Zoe a sharp look. Then said
casually. “It seems like Adam was pretty involved in decorating your house.”

To
her annoyance, her cheeks reddened. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing
bad. I was just surprised that he had so much say in the process. It’s
your
house.”

“Of
course, it’s my house, but he’s my friend. You know that.”

“Yes,
I know. But you have other friends, and you didn’t ask them for advice over
retiling the fireplace or picking out a picture for your bedroom, did you?”

Zoe
started to make a sharp, defensive remark, but managed to hold her tongue. She
felt annoyed—not because her mother was being pushy but because Zoe was
overwhelmed by a wave of guilt and confusion.

The
truth was Adam had been heavily involved—not just in filling the rooms and
walls of her new home but in actually picking out the house itself. It had
seemed perfectly natural, but maybe it wasn’t.

Zoe's
own personal style was so eclectic that it could take any number of shapes.
She'd loved her loft apartment and, in many ways, it had looked like Zoe. But
it had also looked like Josh.

This
house looked like Zoe. It was filled with things she loved.

But
it also looked like Adam.

She'd
never even thought about that before.

Finally,
she said, “Yeah. But they don’t have all the contacts and resources that Adam
has. He’s been a huge help.”

“I’m
sure he has. It just seems like the kind of help a boyfriend or husband would
provide more than a cousin-in-law.”

Zoe
felt her cheeks burn even hotter. “Don’t start with that again, Mom.”

“Start
with what?”

“Don’t
play innocent with me. You know exactly what I mean. “

Her
mother smiled. “Of course I do. I was just trying to pry, like a mom does. But
you’re crazy about him—you can’t tell me that you’re not—and he’s like family
to you. Honey, I’m not seeing where the hang-up is.”

“You
know exactly what the hang-up is. I was married to his cousin.”

Her
mother gazed at her for a long time, and her expression transformed from the amused
scrutiny of before to something gentle, almost soft. “I don’t think that’s the
real hang-up. Maybe there was some of that early on, but now I think you’re
using it as an excuse.”

“An
excuse for what?”

“I
know how much you loved Josh. No one is ever going to doubt that. But he’s
gone. I’m so sorry, sweetie, but he’s gone now. But you’re still here. And Adam
is still here. And I can’t think of a reason in the world why you shouldn’t be
happy.”

*
* *

A couple of
nights later, Adam came over for dinner. He brought over some fresh salmon and
scallops, and they grilled it up with vegetables and ate it with crusty bread
and white wine.

Logan
had some bread and vegetables, but mostly he ate macaroni and cheese.

Over
dinner, Adam talked with Zoe about work and with Logan about everything the boy
had seen at the train museum, where Zoe had taken him that afternoon.

After
dinner, they all took a walk in the park across the street. It was a beautiful
fall evening, and the setting sun cast streams of golden light on the trees,
grass, and sidewalks.

Zoe
felt happy and relaxed when they got back home. Adam helped her give Logan a
bath and then put him to bed. She’d expected Adam to leave after Logan went to
bed, as he normally did. But instead he sat back down on the couch, and they
ended up finding an old movie they could watch on television.

As
the night got later and the movie drew to an end, Zoe started to wonder what it
would be like to date Adam, to be in a romantic relationship with him.

She
tried to imagine it, and she had to conclude that it wouldn’t be much different
than the kind of evening they’d had tonight.

Except
in the way the night would end.

That
was probably not the best line of thought for her at the moment. She shifted
uncomfortably on the couch as she visualized herself getting up, taking Adam by
the hand, and pulling him into her bedroom.

He’d
been wearing a business suit when he came over, but he’d taken off his coat and
tie and was now dressed in black trousers and a wrinkled French blue dress
shirt. His features were relaxed as he watched the movie, his hair irresistible
rumpled in the flickering light of the room and his lips uncharacteristically
soft.

Her
body reacted to the sight of him on the couch beside her. A tension deepened in
her gut, between her legs. And her chest ached with something else at the same
time.

He
looked so much like Adam.

He
looked so much like he might be hers.

But
she just didn’t know if that could—or should—ever be true.

She
fought to focus on something else, which made her grow tenser and tenser as the
movie continued.

“You
okay?” Adam asked, slanting her an observant look.

“Yeah,”
she said with a smile. “Fine.”

His
eyes rested on her for another moment before he turned back to the movie.

When
it ended, they both sat on the sofa, looking at the blank television screen.

“Well,”
Zoe said at last. “I guess it’s getting kind of late.”

It
was almost midnight.

“I
guess so.” Adam met her eyes and looked like he was going to say something.

Zoe
waited, for some reason holding her breath.

There
was a pregnant pause, during which Adam actually opened his mouth to speak. She
was sure he was going to say something, sure it was significant.

Her
heart started to pound in expectation.

Then
he gave his head a brief shake and stood up, stretching out his back as he did.

Feeling
stupid that her heart was racing in anticipation of nothing, Zoe stood up too
and asked, “Is your back bothering you?”

“Sometimes.
It’s an annoyance more than anything else.”

Zoe
walked with him to the kitchen to get his jacket and tie from the chair he’d
draped them over. “You should take some leftovers home,” she said, starting to
fill up a little container for him. As she did, she continued their previous
conversation. “I can just imagine how frustrating it is for a super-man like
you to be troubled by such a pedestrian physical ailment.”

Her
voice had been light and playful, but Adam frowned in response. “What does that
mean?”

“Nothing,”
she said quickly, worried she’d unintentionally offended him. “I was just
teasing. I meant you never seem to get sick and always seem to have it all
together.” She handed him the container of leftovers, which he accepted without
comment.

He
seemed to think about her words as they walked to the front door.  But he
didn’t reply until they stood facing each other in the entry hall. His voice
was quiet as he said, “You know very well I don’t always have it all together.”

“I
know that. I was honestly just teasing. But the back pain
is
really
frustrating for you, isn’t it?”

Another
short pause. Then, “Yes. It is.”

“I
think it must be more frustrating for you than for someone else. Something you
can’t fix. Something you can’t control.” She was speaking seriously now, trying
to articulate a truth she understood about his nature that she hadn’t
understood a year ago.

For
some reason, she wanted for him to know that she understood him in this way.

Adam’s
lips parted slightly as he stared at her, something deep and wordless in his
eyes. Then he breathed, “Yeah.”

His
expression changed slightly and he added, “But the back pain is quite minor
compared to other things I can’t fix and can’t control.”

Zoe’s
chest ached again at these words, at everything they might signify. “Oh Adam,”
she whispered, an impulse she couldn’t possibly resist compelling her to reach
out and pull him into a hug.

He
hugged her in return for a minute, his warm, strong body easing that ache in
her chest. Then he pulled back, but not all the way. His mouth quirked with an
unexpected humor. “That wasn’t supposed to be sob story. Just a statement of
fact. But the hug was nice just the same.”

She
choked on a laugh and gave him a playful slap on the chest. “I know it wasn’t a
sob story. I’ll have you know that wasn’t a pity hug.”

“Then
what was it?” Adam’s eyes were smiling too, but a different resonance thickened
in the air between them as they stared at each other, Zoe’s hands resting
unconsciously on his shoulders.

“It
was just a hug.” Zoe’s voice shook a little on the last word as she experienced
a surge of desire and feeling. She tried to make herself step back and pull her
hands away, but she couldn’t do it.

“I
see.” Adam seemed trapped in the moment as well. Then his eyes blazed hot and
he bent his head down toward hers.

Before
Zoe could process what was happening, he was kissing her.

And
there was no way she couldn’t respond.

In
one hand, Adam still held the little container of leftovers, but the other hand
slid up to tangle in her hair, his fingertips caressing her scalp. His lips at
first were gentle, questioning. But as she opened to his tongue and wrapped an
arm around his neck, the kiss deepened.

Pleasure
and exhilaration shuddered through her as she tried to press herself against
him, wanting to feel him as much as she could.

Then,
just as an intense arousal began to tighten between her legs, Adam pulled back.

They
stared at each other, both panting, for a long moment. Then he leaned down to
press another soft kiss on her mouth. “And that,” he murmured, “was just a
kiss.”

He
left, before Zoe could begin to sort out what had just happened, what it might
mean.

She
tried to think things through as she locked up the house, checked on Logan
sleeping in his own room, and got ready for bed. But finally she just gave up.

There
was no way she was going to make any rational sense of this right now—not in
the aftermath of that amazing kiss.

It
seemed ludicrous that she would feel so giddy, so exhilarated, so absolutely
delighted over something as simple as a kiss. And a kiss from a man she’d
always assumed couldn’t be a possibility for her.

But
she was. She felt giddy. And it was something she hadn’t felt in such a long
time.