Ten Days of Perfect (November Blue #1)(38)

“Hey, Em, are you OK? What’s wrong?” Adrian rolled over to find I wasn’t there and caught my moon-lit tears. He rubbed his eyes and shifted to a seated position on the edge of the bed.

“Adrian,” I slumped my shoulders and shuffled over to the bed, where he was waiting with open arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“Babe, what’s going on? What are you sorry for?” He wiped a tear away from my cheek. I’d never let him see me cry before, and I think he was scared.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” I choked on the words swelling in my throat.

“Can’t do what?” He couldn’t imagine what was coming.

“I love you, Adrian, and I’m sorry. I thought it was just in my head; just a reaction to Monica’s breakup with Grant . . .” My heaving sobs were met by Adrian’s firm grip of my shoulders.

“Baby, I…” He didn’t have to say anything. I willed him not to. “I love you, too.”

“Adrian, stop! That’s not what we’re doing here; we agreed. Look what just the thought of losing something I don’t have is doing to me. I’m not ready for this.”

His hard kiss silenced me.

“I love you, Ember. It’s OK.”

“It’s not OK, Adrian. We both know it. We can’t keep doing this now. Not with all of this.” I flapped my hands in a scattering motion between us to indicate what a mess it had instantly become. I didn’t need, or want, a pity “I love you” from Adrian.

Adrian’s eyes fell heavy between his lap and my face. After what seemed like several minutes he took a deep breath, exhaled for a year, and kissed me in a way that only he could kiss me.

We made love that night, for the first and last time. I cried, he cried, and we realized it was all too much. The fear of a deeper broken heartedness if we continued down the road that the L-word had dumped us on was stronger than the will we had to carry on. We ended things right then and there.

We saw each other in classes through junior year and remained cordial, but we ended the study groups. We saw even less of each other during senior year and, once we reached graduation, our paths never crossed again.

*

Until tonight. I parked at Finnegan’s and took a cleansing breath, grumbling a little at the sight of Josh’s car. I knew he’d think I was there for him. No, I’m here for a different ass.

With a second cleansing breath, I opened the door and headed straight to the bar to talk to Josh.

“Hey, sorry I didn’t text you but we’ll have to talk some other time. I’ve got to meet someone.” I realized this was the first time I’d seen Josh since he broke up with Monica. He was pale and rather disheveled.

“Don’t worry about it Em. He’s over there - the guy you’re meeting.” Josh waved his hand to the back of the pub.

Still facing Josh, I straightened my posture and froze.

“How do you know . . .”

Josh chuckled, “I’ve seen his face many times in your old school photos. Plus, he asked if I would point you in his direction when you arrived.”

“Well jeez, Josh. Thanks for the heads up. I was supposed to see him first.” Like he knows what that means.

“Ha!” Josh let out a loud laugh. “Don’t worry, I’d say whatever you’re going for worked; his eyes haven’t left you since you walked in.” Josh gestured to my outfit.

“Damn straight they haven’t. I’ll talk to you later.” I turned just slowly enough to be dramatic, but fast enough not to be obvious.

There he was. Adrian Turner. Holy shit.

He had, according to Josh, been watching me the whole time, but when our eyes met, his lit up. I walked toward him with the I-know-I-look-good saunter I had practiced in my apartment with Monica. He smiled and gave me a nod as he stood from the booth.

Take a breath, flash a smile.

Unfortunately, Adrian hadn’t gotten fat at all. No, the past few years had done him nothing but unequivocal favors. He was still as broad and muscular as his Princeton lacrosse days, but a striking maturity graced his face that parted my lips. His flawless milk chocolate skin looked like it could melt under the heat of my gaze.

His hair was different; short dreads were replaced by a tight buzz cut, and an equally close-shaven goatee. He wore khaki shorts and an un-tucked cerulean button down shirt. He’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows, exposing boulder-like forearms, and the top three buttons were unbuttoned. Water, please. I wondered idly if Bo’s reticence to my meeting with Adrian had to do with how incredibly beautiful he is - surely men notice if another man is attractive.

“November Harris,” Adrian greeted with incredible congeniality. He stretched out his arms and I went in for the hug. Damn. It was easier to question his motives when I couldn’t smell him. He smelled like Princeton, lacrosse, and my dorm pillow. He smelled like Adrian, my Adrian. He gave a whisper of a peck on one of my cheeks before holding me at arm’s length.

“Adrian Turner, look at you. All grown up and a big-shot lawyer from Harvard Law. How are you?” That’s right, Adrian, keep looking.

“I’m better now, girl. It’s been a long time.” His eyes blossomed with a sincerity that travelled to my gut, sprouting a pang of guilt for avoiding him for so long.

“It has. And, you only had to work-stalk me to make it happen.” I winked as I took my seat.