AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Adam hadn’t wanted to hear that, and was still attempting to block it out of his head when he texted Lizzie to see if she was free for a late lunch. He parked behind the café and waited until she appeared at the back door before he got down from his truck.
She came toward him, her expression worried.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m good. They took Carlos to the hospital. He’s not doing well.”
She pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She touched his arm. “Do you want to come back to my place and just chill? I can make you a sandwich if you’re hungry.”
“That sounds great.” Adam cleared his throat. “If you’re sure.”
“Of course. I’ll just tell Yvonne I’ll be back in an hour.” She ran back into the café and emerged soon afterward with one of the café’s pink boxes in her hand. “Yvonne wanted you to have these.”
“That’s nice of her.” Adam gestured at his truck. “Do you want to drive or walk?”
“Let’s walk. It’s only five minutes away.”
As she was holding the cake box, Adam didn’t take her hand, but locked his truck, and walked alongside her down Main Street toward the gas station. She unlocked the downstairs door, and he followed her inside and up the stairs. Her place smelled like lemons and was strangely quiet without the presence of Roman.
She put the box down on the counter and turned toward him.
“What happened?”
“Ines called me. She said she couldn’t wake Carlos up.” He took his hat off and shoved a hand through his hair. “I went over there to see what was going on.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s still alive, but it’s not looking good.” Adam met her gaze. “When I saw him lying there, I thought he was dead. I made myself check his pulse. . . .” He ran out of words and gazed helplessly at her. “I thought he’d be dead like Louisa.”
With a soft sound, Lizzie reached for him, and he buried his face in the crook of her neck and just breathed her in. He stayed like that as she stroked his hair and murmured something soothing that he couldn’t quite catch, but that somehow made things better.
With a groan, he raised his head and sought her mouth, wrapping her in his arms with a fierce need that swiftly overpowered him. She let him kiss her, but he gradually became aware that she was pulling away, her expression grave.
He made himself stop and held her at arm’s length, still reluctant to let her go completely, but conscious that she was asking for distance between them.
“I’m sorry, Lizzie. I’m behaving like an ass.”
“No, you’re not.” She met his gaze head-on. “I just don’t want there to be any misunderstanding between us right now.”
“In what way?” Adam frowned.
“That you’re going to do something with me that you’re going to regret later on.”
Her softly spoken words froze him to the core. He released her like she was a hot coal. The flash of hurt in her eyes made him feel like a coward. He took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped back.
“You’re right.”
* * *
“Okay,” Lizzie said breathlessly. “Let’s do this. I’ll make the sandwiches, and we’ll talk after we’ve eaten.”
Adam looked toward the door, the misery in his eyes making Lizzie swallow hard. “Unless you want me to go.”
“No.” She met his gaze. “No more walking out on me either. I want you to eat something.”
He sat at the counter and watched her somberly as she made them both a chicken sandwich and brewed some coffee. She was aware of time ticking by, and the sense that if she didn’t get things right with Adam now, he’d walk away, and this time he would never come back.
“Here you go.” She put the plate in front of him and sat down herself. “If you eat it all up, I’ll let you have that éclair from Yvonne.”
“I’m not five, you know.”
Relieved that he was finally speaking again, Lizzie smiled at him. “Sorry, it’s a mom thing.”
He ate his whole sandwich in six bites, and she offered him another one, which he declined. While she finished hers, he made the coffee, and sat sipping from his mug and contemplating the view from her kitchen window. After a swift glance at the kitchen clock, Lizzie drank her coffee in scalding gulps and hurried to put the dishes in the sink.
