I hated chemotherapy almost as much as I hated the cancer. And now it was slowly bleeding me of my will to live, to survive, to fight.
With a shaky sigh, I rubbed my hands over my smooth scalp—my new substitute for twirling my long hair with my fingers. I slipped through the threshold of my little sanctuary—soon to be my prison. And I glanced down the hallway toward Adam’s room.
I opened and closed my fists several times, fighting the urge to pad down the hallway and slip into bed beside him. I wanted it so badly—wanted him so badly. I wanted to listen to his peaceful breathing, cuddle up to his hard body, feel his arm curl around me. Feel his lips caress my neck. But I couldn’t forget our short conversation before I’d fallen asleep—his insistence that we take things slow.
Could I blame him? He seemed as scared about this as I had been to move back in here. And we were getting along rather well, so maybe there was some wisdom to it. But it still annoyed me.
I thought about that as I felt my way downstairs in the dark and flipped on a dim light over the wet bar. I could see my way to the glass doors that led down to the private beach on this side of Bay Island, where Adam’s gorgeous home overlooked the Back Bay of Newport Beach. The cool night air caressed my burning skin and I took a deep breath, already feeling calm, peace wash over me though my heart raced.
I fingered the pendant around my neck. I never took the compass off. I still wasn’t fully clear on what Adam had been trying to tell me the day he’d given it to me, but having it next to my heart was my constant reminder of him—of his kindness and his love, and of my love for him. Not that I needed much of a reminder of that last one. Every time I thought of him, that pinch in my heart did it all on its own.
I lay across the cool sand, looking up into the murky sky, shrouded in thick clouds. I thought about us for long moments, the compass pressing against my sternum. I hoped, rather than knew, that we would survive this. But we hadn’t been strong enough once and in the wake of all that had happened since, I honestly had no idea how we could.
Chapter Sixteen
Adam
It was two a.m. and I’d drifted off to sleep again, my head against my arm as I hunched over my desk. I rubbed my aching neck and checked the clock, remembering that I’d have to take Emilia to the hospital in the morning. I’d better get at least a few hours of sleep in a bed so I could be there for her. Forcing myself to work—and therefore keep myself distracted—did not seem to be as effective as it had once been.
I moved down the hallway toward her room, determined to look in on her before going to bed alone. She’d been weak and shaky tonight, and upset at Kat’s abrupt reaction to her news. She’d managed to fall asleep in spite of all that and I was grateful. She’d need all her strength for tomorrow. But when I got to her room, I found the door wide open and her bed empty. The clothes she’d been wearing were wadded in a pile on the floor.
Maybe she’d gone downstairs to grab a bite to eat? Hopeful that this was the case—because she probably wouldn’t be eating again for days, if her previous rounds were any pattern—I jogged down the stairs, but the kitchen and bar area were empty. However, near the glass doors that led out to the beach, a dim light had been left on over the alcove. And one of the doors was ajar.
Had she gone for a walk at this time of night? It was perfectly safe, of course, but what if she’d gotten weak and passed out somewhere? I was out the door in a second and after a moment of letting my eyes adjust to the darkness, I scanned the stretch of sand in front of me. The chairs and lounges were all empty, but after striding toward the shore, I became aware of a human-shaped form spread out on the cool sand, just feet from the shoreline. I cleared my throat loudly to let her know I was there without startling her.
Hopefully she hadn’t fallen asleep here.
Her head turned and she came up on her elbows, looking behind her. It was a dark night out. What little moon there had been was obscured by the ever-present coastal inversion layer. I came up behind her and sat on the sand nearby, the cool seeping through my jeans immediately.
She was only wearing thin pajama bottoms and an even thinner tank top, but she did not appear cold.
“Are you okay?” I asked without preamble.
She nodded, speaking almost as an afterthought. “Yeah.”
I paused and she seemed to be avoiding my eyes, turning her gaze back up to the sky. “What are you doing out here?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I was feeling really hot.” She shrugged. “It was nice and cool out here. I could breathe.”
“What’s wrong?”