NOVA
I notice Adam stop to check his phone and a strange expression takes over his face. He quickly shoves the phone in his pocket and rounds the car with a somber frown.
My executive assistant senses are ringing off the hook.
After years of working beside Adam, I’ve learned how to read every muscle tick in his face. Right now, the muscles are all pulling taut and pointing to one thing—trouble.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, sliding out of the car by myself and touching his arm.
“No.” He forces a grin.
It would be convincing to anyone else, but I know him too well. When Adam’s really happy, like sunshine-bursting-in-his-soul happy, he gets a crinkle right above his nose.
Right now, his smile is sans-crinkle.
I want to believe him but, without the crinkle, there’s no way I’m buying this.
“Adam…”
“Nova, really. Everything’s fine.” He checks his watch. “It’s almost time. We need to hurry.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the side gate. I gasp when I see the backyard has been transformed with string lights, star-gazing equipment, and a brand-new porch swing.
“Rowan helped set it up,” Adam informs me, looking boyishly charming as he sinks both hands into his jeans. “He wanted to join us tonight. I had to promise him that we’d all go star-gazing another day before he stopped begging.”
“Star-gazing? Is that what we’re doing?”
“I figured since your name is Nova, it would be right to end the day with us taking a good, long look at the sky.” He nods to the swing. “I made that. It’s got cup-holders, cushions and a foot rest that rises at the touch of a button.”
It takes a lot to restrain my smile.
I touch his arm and whisper for his ears only, “Thank you. I really, really like it.”
Adam’s effort today has not gone unnoticed. To be honest, the first two surprises he had were on a grand scale. But this tiny offering of quiet relaxation, the fact that he and Rowan set it up together, the fact that he built the swing Adam-style, it all tugs at my heart.
“My pleasure.” He stares intently down at me.
“Is it really? It looks like a lot of work.”
“Doesn’t feel like work if it’s for you.” He studies me. His voice is deathly serious. “As long as I’m alive and breathing, Nova Delaney, you will always be the most important woman to me. And if you asked me to pluck one of those stars from the sky, I’d tell you you’re crazy and then I’d find a way to build you your own galaxy.”
I chuckle and hold him tighter. “Did you come up with that yourself?”
“I pieced it together after watching a couple of your favorite movies.”
“A couple?”
“Okay, all of them,” he admits and then he slaps his chest twice. “I’m comfortable enough in my masculinity to say that romance movies are fun.”
Laughter shakes us both.
After a beat, I go quiet and stare at him.
I’m dating my boss. The chances of me regretting this later? They’re about a hundred percent. But I can’t think beyond how good it feels to finally give into these feelings.
My white flag is flapping in the wind. I’m Rapunzel who let down her hair—quite literally—and allowed the prince to climb up the tower and rescue her.
I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be, even though this is, quite literally, a war on my heart. Adam is stepping into the hidden parts I’ve kept locked away for years. He’s building shelves and making himself a room, making himself comfortable.
I should feel the loss of control more deeply.
But I don’t feel fear. It’s quite the opposite. I feel bolder, stronger for having found the courage to be honest. Even though I gave up my armor and broke down the walls, I don’t feel as if I’ve lost. Only that I’ve gained more than I could imagine.
Is that what love is?
I wrap my arms around Adam and give him a hug. He seems surprised by the embrace and I guess that’s fair. I spent seven years pumping the brakes hard every time he so much as hinted at caring about me. Now, I’m like Lula tearing down the road, clunky and awkward but gunning at a hundred miles an hour.
I rise on my tiptoes, ready to latch onto his mouth and give him a proper kiss, when an explosion nearly rips my ears open. I yelp, cover my ears and look up. Brilliant colors are filling the sky.
“Oh, wow.” The gorgeous display sends me skittering back. Bright pinks, blues, greens and yellows dash across the horizon. They splash over the faint clouds and brush against twinkling stars.
The colors go dim again before another explosion breaks out and sends more streaks across the velvet night. It looks like jewels lighting up the sky.
“Is that…” I step out of Adam’s arms, my neck wound back and my chin up. “That’s my name! How is it doing that?”
“I made a few adjustments to the typical fireworks powder.”
Too afraid to whip my eyes off the sky, I yell at Adam, “Is this legal?”
“Ehem. Not exactly.”
My mouth opens with laughter and then it fades into gasps of awe as I watch the sparkles light up in perfect shapes.
N-O-V-A
When it’s over, I turn to Adam who looks uncharacteristically somber. I thought he’d be bursting with pride and teasing me about how awesome he is.
“Adam?”
He blinks and seems to come back to himself. A mischievous grin spreads across his face, replacing the previous expression.
“You like it?”
“When did you have time to make fireworks?”
“I did it a few years ago.”
“Years?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been waiting a really long time for you, Nova.”
Is there a way I can fuse my lips to his and still live my daily life? Maybe he can invent something that’ll allow me to walk around, always holding onto his hand. Heck, I’d go to one of those magicians and get myself handcuffed to this man at this point.
“Today was amazing, Adam. And the fireworks were gorgeous.”
He grazes his knuckles over my cheek. “How about the guy who did the fireworks?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t see who you hired to set them off. Maybe he’s cute…?”
Adam attacks my stomach with his fingers.
I burst out laughing. “Adam!”
He keeps tickling. “You think you’re funny?”
I push at his hands, laughing and trying to squirm away. Eventually, Adam stops and slides his hands over my waist, hugging me from behind.
“Fine,” I admit. “You’re not so hard on the eyes.”
He lifts me off the ground and spins me toward the porch. “What do you think about the swing?”
“I love it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes?”
“Absolutely sure?”
I nod.
“Let’s just confirm that.”
He lifts me and carries me up the back steps. The chains holding the swing rattle when we both fall into it.
Adam settles me in his lap and traces a line down my shoulder. “Still like it?”
“Technically, I’m sitting on your lap. Not the swing.”
“Well, this is as close as you’re gonna get tonight, so…”
I laugh and then settle into a smile.
One tan finger rises and traces my mouth. Our gazes hook and latch. A thrill of something hot and dangerous moves through my body. It’s insane how he makes my gut twist with just a look.
Adam’s dark eyes go even darker. “I love your smile. It’s like pure sunshine, Nova.”
Kiss him, the deranged cat that seems to be in full control of my loins purrs, kiss that man now!
I don’t like cats, but that one has a point.
I tilt my head up.
Adam leans down and fuses his mouth to mine. The kiss is more explosive than the fireworks that stained the sky with colors. Like a fuse that was lit many years before, burning slowly, slowly, and only now able to sparkle for the world to see, it crashes and shatters and destroys.
I cling to him, needing to hold on to something to stay upright. His mouth is hot and firm and everything I could ever dream of. I can feel his muscles beneath his T-shirt and, right below that, his wildly pounding heart. Mine is beating just as fast.
I’ve always considered myself to be a capable, powerful woman, but I never expected to feel even more powerful in the hands of such a giving, loving and honorable man.
“You taste like freaking honey,” Adam whispers against my lips. When he opens his eyes and looks down at me, his gaze is fierce and so hot it almost burns my dress off. “I can’t get enough of you, Nova.”
Every ounce of my good sense disintegrates.
Our lips collide in another desperate kiss that digs a hole straight down to my chest, grabs my heart and squeezes until it stops beating.
Have mercy.
It’s like diving into a vat of pure crystal water and finding Atlantis underneath.
Adam Harrison is inhumanely insatiable, taking my mouth with a ferocity that warns he has many years of cold showers and longing to make up for. And he doesn’t plan on giving me a chance to catch my breath.
I moan softly when he tilts his head and pulls my bottom lip into his mouth. The loving he lays on me is single-minded and dirty enough to be illegal. There’s no way a man should be this skilled at kissing. And yet, Adam could teach a class on it.
His mouth moves urgently over mine. He doesn’t just kiss me. He devours, tasting the curve of my lips with his tongue as if it’s the most exquisite meal he’s ever had.
I feel singed, burnt to a crisp.
My fingernails scrape the back of his neck and sink into the hair beneath his cap. I knock the hat out of the way and it goes tumbling out of sight.
My adrenaline is pounding and every one of my senses dials to a hundred. His scent, metal and fresh sawdust and Adam. His beard, hot and burning as it scrapes my sensitive chin. His fingertips, firm as they slide over my hip and tangle in my skirt. His grunts, pleased and slightly unhinged.
This is dying.
This is living.
This is what I was so afraid of giving into, the full breadth of Adam Harrison unleashed upon me.
“You’re going to be the death of me. You have no idea, darlin’,” Adam breathes as if he can’t handle everything he’s feeling.
My lips brush his when I smile. I can feel my breath skittering in my chest. “Can we test out the footrest?”
Adam blinks as if dazed. Then he nods. Snaking out a strong hand, he presses a button on the side and a foot rest unfolds from the bottom of the swing.
“I, uh, looked it up. There aren’t any porch swings with an automatic foot rest on the market.”
“Mm-hm.” I rub my hands over the back of his neck and keep an eye on that foot rest.
Adam’s legs start lifting along with it. “It’s so easy. Why wouldn’t someone have come up with that yet?”
“A very good question.” I wait to hear the foot rest snap into place before pushing one palm against the back of the swing and throwing my foot over Adam’s hip. Straddling him now that I have room to do so without the fear of falling on my butt, I sink into his body.
He moans and I do too, loving the heat of him so close to where he needs to be.
My skirt bunches up so high that I’m practically flashing him. Adam’s groan of appreciation is worth it. His fingertips slide around my hips and he moves me back and forth, creating his own friction.
I can feel him, his hard body, his need—so desperate for me.
“I’ll definitely,” I kiss him slowly, our lips sliding against each other, “put that,” another slow, sensual kiss, “on the company docket.”
He seeks out my lips when I ease back, his face completely red and his eyelashes fluttering. “Have mercy.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” I whisper against his ear.
He kisses me again, his hands roaming my body, not bothering about being a gentleman. For all his kindness and easy-going nature, Adam is built like a machine—the kind that can fire shots all night without losing a beat. And right now, he’s not Easy-Going Adam. He’s something else. Part monster, part savage.
I pant violently as he caresses me with both of his hands while his mouth casts me into a deeper, flaming need. A heady sense of helplessness and wonder crashes into me.
How does he do that? His hands are everywhere, and yet his kiss ramps up with intensity. He’s almost obsessive about my mouth—drinking from my lips until they tremble, nuzzling until they burn, driving his teeth down to mix pleasure with pain.
I’m shivering with all his promises of wicked delight, especially when his tongue invades my mouth, moving in and out with confidence, a daring preview of what’s to come.
His stubble is a unique burn against my sensitive skin, the perfect sensation to pair with the exquisiteness of his kiss, adding so much friction that I want to scream.
It takes me a second to decide where to start undressing him first. My hands make the decision and get busy tugging on the flannel outside of his T-shirt.
My heart is beating violently, my body melting to nothing as his mouth sucks the soul right out of me.
Even the way he growls his desire into my ear takes my breath away.
Now. I need Adam now.
Each brutal stroke shakes the dust off my dirtiest fantasies and rips open every secret desire I’ve denied since I started having feelings for him.
The feral cat inside is screaming bloody murder.
My skin is on fire.
This kiss will leave bruises. I’m sure of it. My hands roam his pants with a possessive exploration, searching for the button that will unlock everything I want.
Something buzzes in the chaos.
It’s Adam’s phone.
“Ignore that,” he growls, shrugging out of his flannel. As soon as he’s shed that layer, his hands grab my waist again and he drags me down on him.
I hiss, feeling how much he wants me.
His hands push under my dress, grabbing, taking, molding me into the shape he wants. There’s so much erupting desire that the porch swing can’t take it. I slap my palm against the back of the wooden slats, trying to keep my balance as the chair rocks back and forth and the chain rattles.
Adam’s phone buzzes more insistently.
I wrench my mouth away from his and he grips me under my dress, his hands wrapped around my thighs in a silent command.
But it’s not one I can follow.
“Answer the phone, Adam. You have a son. You can’t ignore phone calls anymore.” When he still looks reluctant, I insist, “It could be an emergency.”
His expression shutters. “It’s not Rowan.”
“What?” I ease back. The thin straps of my dress slide further down to my elbows. “How do you know?”
Adam sighs and gently sets me away from him. Then he takes out the phone and shows me the screen.
“It’s the company I hired to find Alexa.”
I jolt harder than if the entire swing had come crashing down. The desire and need that had been pulsing in my stomach is ripped away, replaced by a feeling of cold dread.
“Where is she?” I whisper with a hint of please don’t answer that in my tone.
“The address he gave me…” Adam’s eyes go dark, “was a hospital.”
Clay Bolton is big.
Bigger than Adam.
And since, only an hour ago, I was holding onto Adam’s very broad shoulders while rubbing against him like some wild beast during mating season, I know how big and muscular my boss is.
Clay Bolton is built like a tank.
A really grumpy, really blond tank with a perpetual scowl and shocking blue eyes that would be beautiful if not for the jaded sheen in them.
I glance over at Adam, comparing the two men. Even somber and serious, Adam emits such positive energy. His belief and faith in the world is unshakeable. I’m glad I found someone like him, someone who would remind me of the sunshine when I get lost in my darkness.
“It took me a while to find her because she was living at the hospital.” Clay Bolton slides a file over to Adam. “She sold her apartment, quit her job and made zero financial transactions on the outside. It’s like her life shrank to the size of that building.”
“What does she have?” I ask tightly.
“Cancer.”
I have to tell myself to blink.
I have to tell myself to breathe.
Clay Bolton’s expression softens with a hint of humanity for the first time since we met in his fancy office. “It’s terminal.”
I recoil on the inside, but on the outside I’m perfectly calm. Adam, on the other hand, is visibly tense. His fingers close into fists and he stares at the files as if waiting for it to tell him something different.
“The timeline of her moving into the hospital aligns with the date that your son showed up on your doorstep,” Clay Bolton says.
I shift in my chair as the pieces click into place.
I hadn’t told Adam, or anyone really, but the more I got to know Rowan, the more I started judging Alexa. How could she send her own kid away? How could she not visit Rowan once? I’d only known him for a short time and I already knew that he was important to me. Why wouldn’t the woman who’d given birth to him recognize that?
Turns out, I was wrong. Alexa hadn’t abandoned Rowan. She’d been trying to give him the best chance at building a life without her.
Tears sting my eyes and my heart moves with compassion for a woman I’ve never met and yet had hated.
“How much time does she have to live?” Adam asks weakly.
“Not long,” Clay responds, glancing away.
I place my hand on Adam’s back and rub.
His throat bobs. He opens his mouth, but closes it tightly and says nothing.
I see him struggling and I immediately switch into fix-it mode. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Bolton. We’ll discuss our next steps given the information that’s come to light.”
He nods, his eyes sweeping to the picture frame on his desk. It’s of him and his family. He’s got his arm around a woman and he’s wearing a smile on his face—which is shocking enough—but next to a little blonde son who looks exactly like him is a dark-skinned little girl.
Clay Bolton speaks in a hoarse voice. “Losing a loved one is tough. I hope things work out for you.”
“Thanks,” Adam responds.
I slide Bolton my card. “In the future, if you can’t reach Adam, you can contact me. I’ll get the message to him.”
“Sure.”
Adam stumbles out of Clay Bolton’s office, still looking dazed.
“Adam,” I call in a worried voice. “Are you okay enough to drive?”
“She’s not a loved one,” he says faintly.
“What?”
“I never loved Alexa.”
My eyebrows knit together.
“How am I supposed to explain this to Rowan?” Adam breathes hard. “How am I supposed to tell him his mom is dying? She’s the woman I knocked up eleven years ago, but she’s his mom. She’s all he’s ever known.”
“Hey, hey.” I cup his chin until he looks at me.
His brown eyes find mine. He looks like a drowning man and I wish I could take the burden off his shoulders and latch it squarely onto mine.
“I know how much your heart is hurting for Rowan. I know this isn’t the outcome you were hoping for, but we have a brilliant, talented eleven-year-old boy whose world is about to change. As much as it hurts, you have to make some decisions now.”
He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. Taking my hand in his, he squeezes. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re on my side?”
One half of my mouth lifts up and I want to kiss him, even if this is the absolute worst time to feel that urge—given he just found out that his old fling is dying and he has to either tell his son and risk breaking his heart or keep it a secret and risk Rowan’s anger.
“What do you want to do?” I prod.
“I think we should tell him.”
“Then we’ll do that.”
“Tonight.”
“Alright.” I agree.
He arches a brow and gives me a vulnerable look. “You’ll be there with me, right? You’re better with words.”
“And you’re better with people.” I bump his shoulder. “You have a big heart, Adam. Right now, I don’t think Rowan needs my version of the cold, hard truth. I think he needs your humanity.”
“We’ll see,” Adam says, a nervous tick in his jaw.
“Either way, I’ll be right beside you.” I check my watch. “We should pick up Rowan from Dejonae and Sazuki’s now.”
Adam stops me before I walk away. He cups my cheeks, turns my face to his and kisses me softly. It’s a light, gentle, I love you kiss. I feel it even though he hasn’t said the words.
“Alright,” he sets his face to the horizon, “now we can go.”
Rowan hasn’t stopped talking since he got into the car.
“I showed Belle my drawing and she said it was the best she’d ever seen. She asked me to draw her a unicorn and I did. She showed everyone.” Rowan’s chest puffs up. With his chin tilted and his eyes shining with pride, he looks so much like Adam that it kills me. “And then everyone started asking me to draw something for them.”
“That’s great, bud.”
“Niko wrote on her tablet that she was jealous. No one asked her to draw anything.” Rowan grins. “I felt bad so I asked her to draw me a cool design for the skateboard Micheal gave me.” He shakes his head. “But she wasn’t that good. I think she should stick to playing piano.”
Adam’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, but his voice has an artificial cheerfulness when he says, “Uh-huh.”
Rowan is too sharp and he picks up on the weird mood. “Are you two fighting or something?”
“No, we’re not.”
Rowan scoots to the edge of his seat. “Nova, did you like the swing?”
“I did.”
“Did you see the characters I painted on the foot rest?” Rowan asks in excitement.
My shoulders tighten on impact. I had not been looking that hard at the footrests as occupied as I was with hurling myself into Adam’s arms.
“Yeah,” I squeak out. “Yeah, it was nice.”
“You didn’t see it, did you?” Rowan asks flatly.
“It was too… dark at the time. But I’ll check it out in the sunlight.”
“Does that mean you’re sleeping over again?” Rowan asks innocently.
I blink and blink and blink. “Well…”
“That’s enough questions, Rowan,” Adam says. “You should be wearing your seatbelt.”
“Sor-rry.” Rowan breaks the word into two sharp syllables.
I place my hand on top of the one Adam has choking the stick shift. He relaxes slightly. Turning his palm over, he interlaces our fingers.
The car falls silent.
No one says anything more until we get into the house.
“Rowan,” Adam calls when his son tries to scamper into his room, “we need to have a family meeting.”
“That sounds scary,” Rowan mumbles.
I slant Adam a look. It’s not lost on me that he’s calling this a family meeting with me present.
He nods as if to tell me I said what I said.
I reserve my comments for later and take a seat in the sofa beside him. Adam pulls our joined hands over his knee. Despite his calm expression, he’s squeezing my hand almost painfully.
I take the pressure, willing to be his stress ball if he needs it.
“Rowan, I spoke to Nova,” Adam glances at me, making sure to include me in the conversation again, “and we felt we should bring this up with you.”
Rowan’s eyes start widening. He glances from my face to Adam’s. “Am I in trouble?”
“No, you’re not,” Adam says softly. “It’s about your mom.” He exhales. “We found out tonight that your mom…”
I let loose a little squeak of pain when Adam tightens his grip. He jumps in surprise, sees that he’s hurting me and releases his hand instantly.
“Nova, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“I’m—” the word ‘fine’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I know Adam doesn’t respect that term coming from me. “Just be a little more gentle,” I say, offering my hand again.
He nods seriously and takes the hand. Turning to his son again, he swallows hard. “Rowan, your mom is in the hospital. She’s not doing too well. We heard… we heard that she might not make it.”
Rowan’s youthful face freezes in shock. I watch his little chest rise and fall on a giant breath. He says nothing. The only indication that he even heard Adam is his skin becoming paler.
Adam scoots to the edge of his chair and leans forward. “Rowan, did you know your mom was sick when she sent you here?”
Tears pool in the little boy’s eyes and it makes me want to fling myself at him and beg Adam to take back the words. I didn’t know how much seeing Rowan’s emotional distress would burn me.
“I knew she was hiding something from me,” he says, lifting an arm over his face. I’m not sure if that arm is to hide his crying from us or to wipe his tears. “And I knew she wasn’t feeling that good but… are you sure she’s dying?”
Adam looks down.
Rowan sniffs. “She can’t die.” He shakes his head, his brown hair flopping. “She can’t leave me.”
Unable to hold it in any longer, I launch across the sofa and clutch Rowan. It’s an uncharacteristic burst of maternal intuition, but I know it’s the right move when Rowan dips his head in my neck.
Hot, salty tears fall against my collar bone.
My heart breaks with every wet plop on my skin.
Adam joins us in the couch and wraps his arms around us both. Keeping us steady, he becomes both the physical and figurative anchor for us.
“You’re going to be okay, Rowan. I swear,” Adam says.
“I want to see her,” Rowan lifts his head and demands, “I want to see mom.”
Adam glances at me.
I nod.
He sighs and promises, “I’ll take you to her tomorrow.”
Hospitals have always frightened me. So many deaths within these walls. So many families broken up. So many children scarred for life. So many partners losing their only reasons to smile.
I glance at Adam, who’s walking determinedly beside me.
One of the reasons I kept my heart from him is because I knew I’d be one of those people who wouldn’t move on after loving him. I’d be stuck in him forever, consumed by him, breathing for him even if he was no longer breathing with me.
It’s not our blissful day of extravagant dates that convinced me of that.
It’s the way we cling to each other in crisis.
Even in this tense moment, when he could so easily pull away and retreat into himself, Adam is holding me. He’s looking out for me.
Yesterday, after Rowan went to bed in tears, I insisted on calling Steve and going home so Adam could focus on caring for his son.
The moment I got home, I got a text from Adam asking if I’d gotten in safely.
This morning, I got a call from Adam asking if I’d slept well.
Two hours later, Adam was at my door with a sullen Rowan, a downtrodden Lula and a lunch bag with wheat pancakes, turkey bacon and coffee. He made me eat every bite, insisting that he didn’t want to see me fainting again.
I glance down at the third part of our trio. While Adam is holding tightly to my hand, Rowan is holding tightly to his. The little boy has dark circles under his eyes. His skin is so pale his freckles stand out.
I think Rowan hates hospitals as much as I do.
We turn the bend and enter the hospice ward. The smell of lemon-scented cleaner is extra heavy here, but even that can’t purge the scent of death and despair. It clings to the hallways, rolling like dark smoke beneath our feet.
Adam doesn’t seem scared at all. While both Rowan and I slow our pace, he finds the right room and marches straight in.
I’m surprised by how many beds are in here. I’m even more shocked by how all those beds are full. Patients in hospital gowns turn and stare at us. Rowan hides behind his dad, shuffling nervously.
The kid banged on a stranger’s door and confidently served them a ‘dad notice’.
He barged into Sunny Hastings’ farmhouse and made friends with all the other children.
But at the thought of seeing his dying mom he’s cowering.
The fact that he’s fearful now tells me how overwhelmed he is by this moment.
Adam stops in front of a frail woman with a scarf on her head. Even in this state, clearly ravaged by sickness and hopelessness, she’s a stunner. Her cheekbones are fine, her eyes a beguiling grey, and her lips full.
“Adam,” she says his name like it’s a holy prayer.
I slide my hand out of Adam’s. He gives me a quick glance, but I nudge my chin at Alexa.
Adam frowns as he turns to the patient on the bed.
Alexa isn’t looking at him anymore though. Her eyes are on her son. “Rowan.” She extends both hands.
Rowan shuffles out from behind his dad, moves sluggishly towards his mother and then throws his arms around her.
The two hug and rock.
I feel my throat clogging up, but it’s not from tears. It’s because the chemical cleaners they use are so strong.
Yup.
That’s why.
“I missed you so much,” Alexa says, rubbing his back. She glances at me and smiles. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“You must be Nova Delaney.” Her eyes slide over me and jump back to my face. “You’re prettier than all those pictures on the Vision Tech website.”
I dip my head.
She waves at Adam and laughs. It’s a bright sound. If I closed my eyes, I could picture a woman full of life, not the one who’s barely clinging on in front of me.
“Come on, Adam. Stop frowning. You’re not at my funeral yet.”
Rowan flinches. “Mom.”
“I know.” Her smile wavers, but she pins it up bravely. “I know. I should have told you. Both of you. But can you blame me? This isn’t exactly the place for a pseudo-family reunion.”
Adam’s jaw flexes. “I’m going to get you a private room.”
“Adam, don’t bother.”
“Aren’t you uncomfortable here?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t waste your money.”
He pretends not to have heard her. Facing me, he asks gently, “You’re going to be okay if I leave?”
I smile and nod.
“I’ll come with you,” Rowan says. I’m not sure if he’s running from the depressing state of the room or from his mom.
The father and son leave.
Then it’s just me and Alexa.
“He’s such a square, isn’t he?” Alexa says with a wry grin.
“Who?”
She juts her chin at Adam’s retreating back. “You know, when Rowan was growing up, I used to dream that I’d done things completely different. I imagined that Adam and I had gotten married, and then we’d had Rowan. We’d live in a little townhouse in the suburbs. I even picked out a dog for us.”
“What kind of dog?”
“A chihuahua. They’re small and loud. Like me.”
I want to laugh, but my face can’t seem to make the expression. I slide my hands in front of me and pin them together.
“I like you, Nova.”
I blink in surprise.
“You look like a woman who has her crap together. Not a lot of insecurities. Not immature. Someone who’ll treat Rowan well.”
My throat bobs.
I fidget with my hands.
“How long have you and Adam been together?” Alexa asks in a weak voice.
My head whips up.
“Come on. Do you think anyone would miss those heart eyes he throws at you? Even if you weren’t holding hands, I’d have seen it.” Her smile is sad. “I know what Adam looks like when he’s just messing around. This isn’t it.”
“We haven’t been together long,” I answer. “It’s new.”
She winces and leans back in her bed. “No, it’s not. The way Adam looks at you, that’s a mature kind of love. Unconditional. A love like that doesn’t happen at first sight. It takes years. It takes being tried by fire. It takes commitment and sacrifice.”
I say nothing.
Closing her eyes, she lets out another sigh. “I regret a lot of things now that I’m dying, but one of the biggest is that I never got to experience that.” She opens her eyes and smirks at me. “You should know how lucky you are.”
My bottom lip trembles. Why is it that I don’t feel lucky at all? Why do I feel like I took something from someone who needs it more?
