Reckless Abandon (November Blue, #2)(47)

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” I shrug and return the grin.

Adrian’s gaze breaks from mine and his grin disappears. My stomach plummets.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what’s been going on with Cavanaugh, does it?” Gut punch.

“Adrian...” I slide off the stool and pace toward him, while his eyes remain fixed on the floor. I slide hips between his knees

and force him to look at me. “What are you talking about?”

“If we’re going to do this, Ember, it’s going to be the real deal. I want you—all of you. I screwed it up once before, and I’m

not going to do it again. If you need more time—” He shakes his head slightly as he tucks my hair behind my ears.

In the refreshing light of a new day, last night seems so far away and even more ridiculous. Adrian doesn’t deserve to be treated

the way I treated him last night. I used him. He at least suspects that, which is why he’s hesitant to move forward. Who can blame

him? That was a shitty thing to do. Bo can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants, but I’ll be damned if that will affect my

actions. Studying Adrian’s reserved expression, I realize I don’t want to lose him. I care for him and everything we can have

together. And, no matter what has happened or will happen between us, he would never pull what Bo pulled last night. Not in a

million years.

Or a thousand lifetimes.

“Hey,” I grab his wrists and bring his knuckles to my lips, “I don’t need more time for anything. Things with Bo are going to

be complicated until we’re finished working on the collaboration. Then I can go back to my permanent office on the Cape and only

deal with him a few times a year.” In theory, seeing Bo a few times a year sounds like too much. The words, however, are somewhat

difficult to say. “That’s another thing,” I continue, “you live here. I live on the Cape ...”

“Listen, you keep coming here on Fridays after you leave Concord—stay the full weekend when you don’t sing at Finnegan’s—and I

’ll stay at your place Sundays and Mondays. Sound good?”

The apartment brightens with the return of our smiles.

“You’ve given this some thought,” I tease.

“You’ve been my only thought for quite some time, Ms. Harris.” He seals his declaration with a kiss.

“I need to go for a run. Do you have a good route around here?” I pick up my backpack, which only holds my running gear.

“Sure, I’ll go with you.”

“All right, Turner,” I tease, “but you’ll probably have to slow down a bit.”

“Ha. With you? You’re probably right ...”

I playfully punch his shoulder before we dress and head out for a run.



*



“That was a great route, Adrian!” I feel exhilarated and refreshed for the first time in days.

“Yeah,” he pants, “told you I’d have to keep up with you.” He playfully smacks my butt as the elevator doors close.

“Good to see some things never change,” I quip before kissing his cheek.

When I’m with Adrian, in the moment, thoughts of Bo are light years away. It’s when I’m alone or too deep inside my head, that

thoughts of what could have been seep in. Just stay in the moment, and no one will get hurt.

When we reach Adrian’s door, I hear someone banging around in the kitchen and stop short.

“Is that housekeeping?” I ask.

“Nah, that’s probably just Pace.” Adrian unlocks his door with annoyance.

“Your brother’s here? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Adrian’s older brother Pace was one of my favorite people at Princeton. He graduated the year Adrian and I got together, and I

only saw him a few times after that. Adrian swings his door open, and I let out a childish squeal.

“Pace!”

Startled, he drops the spatula in his hand and whips around.

“November? What the hell?” He jogs toward me and pulls me into a hug, spinning me around twice for good measure before setting me

down.

While it’s clear Pace and Adrian are brothers, Pace is nearly six-foot-six, towering six inches over his younger brother. Built

like a brick wall, and athletic to boot, he could have played nearly any sport at any college of his choosing. His family’s

tradition of Princeton, however, overruled any athletic aspirations he may have had.

“All right, you two,” Adrian teases.

“Where the f*ck have you been hiding her, Adrian?” Pace squeezes my shoulders, forcing all the air from my lungs.

“It’s good to see you, too, Pace.” I wriggle out of his hold and pour a glass of water. “I think the real question is what are

you doing here?”

“I live here, smartass. Well, not here in this apartment,” he continues when he sees my confused look, “but in this building. I

’m one floor up.”

“Of course you are.” I roll my eyes at the brotherly competition that hasn’t died down. “Guess medical school served you well?

”