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Tears welled in her eyes. No matter how many times she reminded herself that he was gone, when she dozed off she forgot and when she woke up again, fresh loss washed over her.
Just as fresh loss washed over her each time she remembered the reality that something was horribly wrong between her and Adam.
Why was he shutting her out?
Kelly was right. She needed to confront him, to talk with him and tell him how she felt.
She poured a glass of milk to drink with her salad and gathered her things to go to the living room. She set her plate on the antiquated coffee-table with its peeling veneer and plopped down on the worn, almost threadbare love seat. Curling into the permanently indented furniture, she tucked her feet beneath her. But when she was comfortable, she didn’t pick up her salad. Instead, she looked around the barren living room.
The whole house was barren. Empty. The only living part of the place was the roses that still bloomed brightly in the front yard. Roses that she could see if she flipped on the outdoor lights, but she hadn’t done so since her grandfather had died.
Was Kelly right? Was Adam not dealing well with her grandfather’s death and felt lacking in some way? Was he inadvertently pushing her away without realizing what he was doing?
But what about him rubbing his temple? Adam didn’t have headaches. At least, she couldn’t recall him ever having had one. Was it stress?
An insistent rap at her front door had her jumping up from the love seat. Her fork clanged against the plate, then onto the faded hardwood floor.
With Kelly on a date, only one person would show up at her door this late in the evening.
Excitement shimmied up her spine. Adam. He’d come to her. Finally. They’d talk, work through whatever had been bothering him.
On her way to the door she paused to stare at herself in the small framed mirror that hung on the wall.
Her hair remained pulled up in a loose ponytail, her face was clean-scrubbed, and she wore shorts and a T-shirt. But it was the dark circles and puffiness around her eyes that stood out most. She looked haggard even to her own eyes.
Maybe that explained Adam’s recent avoidance.
Or maybe if she’d quit procrastinating and open the door, she’d know exactly what the problem was.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her hand hesitating on the safety chain until she’d verified who was at the door.
“Adam.”
Barely able to contain her happiness, she undid the chain and lock and stared in horror at the man who’d become so entangled with her very being.
He looked awful.
Even more so than she did. His hair was ruffled from him having repeatedly run his fingers through it. His face was pale, gaunt. And his eyes. Never had she seen such lost blue chasms indenting his face. Deep blue orbs that threatened to drown anyone who looked too closely.
“Adam? What’s happened?” She reached for him, stopping short when he jerked back before her fingers made contact. As if he feared her touch.
“Adam?” she asked, uncertain how to take his reaction.
His gaze shot beyond her, never connecting with her face.
That’s when she got a whiff of him. Still wonderfully masculine Adam. Spicy, musky, sexy, intoxicating to her senses, but something more. Something intoxicating in a very different way. A way very unlike Adam.
He’d been drinking, and not just the glass of wine they occasionally shared.
She stared at him, wondering if he was drunk.
At least that would explain his strange behavior.
Liz’s anxiety increased tenfold. What was going on?
“Adam, has something bad happened?” She lifted her hand to touch him, almost crying out when he grimaced. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please, Adam. I know something is wrong. Tell me.”
Oh, Adam.
