I stopped pacing, my arms folded in front of my chest. I listened to him but could not look at him. He spoke again. “I wanted more and I’ve never wanted that from any other woman ever. I wanted to spend all night watching movies with you or taunting you with irrelevant hints about the game or arguing over which version of the first Star Wars trilogy is better or having you taunt me about how my taste in music is exactly like your mother’s.”
He paused and I finally looked at him. I wish I hadn’t. Emotion was written on every feature. His eyes pinned mine down, dared me to look away. “Every minute I spent with you made me want a hundred minutes more.”
I extricated my gaze from his. My eyes stung and emotions threatened to bubble up from my chest. I couldn’t catch my breath. He moved to stand in front of me and, slowly, carefully, he placed his hands on my shoulders. “I’m going to say something right now that I know is going to scare the shit out of you because it scares the shit out of me. But I have to say it.” He paused, waiting for me to look at him. But I knew what he was going to say. And I didn’t want to hear it. Finally my eyes met his.
“Please, don’t,” I whispered.
He closed his eyes, clearly disappointed. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. “I love you, Emilia. I love you so goddamned much that I can’t breathe when I don’t know where you are or how you are doing. This last month has been torture. I wonder if it’s possible to have room in my heart for anything else but these feelings.”
I couldn’t respond, just shook my head. I wanted him to stop talking and I wanted him to never stop.
He cleared his throat and continued. “If this past month without you has taught me nothing else, it’s shown me what I want. I want—I need— you in my life. If I have to, I’ll wait as long as it takes to get that.”
I put a hand to my forehead, tears coating my cheeks now. I’d never cried in front of him before, but now my barriers were so brittle, so fragile that I seemed near tears at every moment.
Anger burned at my cheeks, the base of my throat. I was so pissed at what he was doing to me. With those words he’d seized control again—like he always did—declaring what my future would be. He’d wait as long as it took but that meant that, ultimately, he’d get what he wanted. And he was a man who didn’t settle for anything less.
I stepped back from his hold, my fists balled. “Fuck you, Adam Drake,” I hissed. “I never asked for you to come into my life and arrange things. I never needed you to save me!”
His head tilted in that way he had of studying me, his eyes calculating. This outburst had not been a surprise to him. He swallowed, squared his shoulders.
“No. Probably you didn’t,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him over the raging, wild twister of emotions swirling inside of me. “But I sure needed you to save me.”
And with that, he turned and walked away. And every part of me wanted to throw myself after him, wanted to wrap my arms around him with all of my strength and pull his body against mine.
Instead I doubled over and sobbed, pain wracking me from forehead to ankle. I sobbed so hard that my head felt like it would split open. I sobbed so hard that I could barely catch my breath, gasping like a diver on an empty tank. The hurt was too much, too intense.
Those words. Those words every woman dreamed of hearing from a wonderful man like Adam had made me sob instead. Because I doubted I had what it took to ever live up to them. To ever be able to return those sentiments. Because Adam wasn’t the one who was empty inside. I was.
***
By the time I made it back to the house, it was well after dark. Adam’s car was still in the driveway. Mom had made and served dinner—to which she had apparently invited him, because they sat at the table over their empty plates, talking and sipping wine.
I tried to file past the dining room unnoticed but Mom stopped me. “Mia, I made you a plate. Come eat!”
I stood in the doorway, aware that I looked like complete shit. I had dust and tear tracks all down my cheeks, swollen eyes and nose and dried snot all down the front of my shirt. I refused to look at Adam, who was apparently fascinated by his own empty plate.
“I’m just gonna go take a shower and hit the hay.”
Mom frowned. “Are you—?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I cut her off with a significant glance at Adam’s bowed head.
She didn’t look convinced. “Oh, okay. Well, Mr. Drake let me know that he had some business come up. He’s going to have to check out early in the morning.”