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She lets out a huff, scrambling her apples around. “It always is. Why would a single man your age want anything but sex with a new girlfriend?”
“Don’t put me in that category, Adriana. I’m not after a heavy relationship, but I’m not exactly willing to throw myself into a relationship based on sex only, which I have done on more than one occasion. It never ends well,” I openly admit, annoyed at her assumption of me. “I’ve got a hell of a lot of soul-searching to do. I’ve only had two serious relationships, a girl in college and Charlie. Look where that went.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday, Julian. Women throw themselves at you. This chick would be expecting nothing less.” The malice in her tone catches me off guard, offending me with her comment.
“So, are you trying to say I’m worth nothing but a good time in the bedroom?” I ask hastily.
She stumbles on her words. “No… I don’t mean that. Quite the opposite. I’m not relaying my message properly.”
“What message is that?”
“Despite what you may want, women do see you as a drop-dead gorgeous man who they envision in their bedroom. I know you’re trying to find yourself, and I’m sorry for making you feel worthless. I’ve only ever had one relationship… and if God weren’t so fucking selfish, he’d still be the one.” She stands and dusts off her pants.
My immediate thought shifts to Adriana, forgetting about our argument. “Hey, you okay?”
She stops, her eyes slightly glazed over. “No… it sucks. What the hell do I know about dating? I know I’ll probably have to do it one day even though the thought of it makes me want to break out in hives and vomit profusely.”
“A date?” I question.
“Yes. And have sex with someone else. I’m not a nun.”
“You’d be a waste of a nun,” I point out, softening my tone.
“That’s a shitty pick-up line, Baker.” She punches my arm softly, followed by a relaxed laugh.
I nod in agreement. “Never said I was a pro, don’t be fooled by the exterior.”
We spend another hour walking through the fields, lost in mindless chatter. As the sun slowly sets, we call it a day and drive back home.
Adriana pulls the car up in front of Hazel’s home, prompting me to unbuckle my belt.
“Thank you for today, Adriana. I’ve got enough apples to feed a herd,” I joke.
She continues to stare out the window, lost in thought. I give her a moment. Adriana needs time to process her thoughts, and pushing her doesn’t get you anywhere but into a heated debate.
“No, thank you, Julian. Being able to talk openly about Elijah means a lot to me, and I can’t believe how much I miss talking about him.”
“I wish you could see your face when you talk about him. You look so alive,” I admit.
“My family walks on eggshells whenever his name is brought up. It’s like they think I’ll break down, so they just avoid talking about him. I hate they do that.”
I place my hand on hers reassuringly. “Adriana, you need to tell them it’s okay to talk about him, in fact, it’s therapeutic. Sometimes you’re going to have bad days and get emotional, and that’s okay, too.”
“You’re right. I need to stop being treated like a porcelain doll. When a porcelain doll breaks, what do you do? You glue her face back together with superglue,” she rambles.
My shoulder moves involuntarily as the laughter consumes me. “I wouldn’t know, Adriana, I’ve never owned one and don’t plan to anytime soon.”
A smile traces her lips before she boots me out and wishes me well on my date.
I sit across the table from Nyree.
The date is nothing out of the ordinary so far. She’s a fantastic cook, preparing some Spanish meal which I have no chance of pronouncing. Most of the time we talk about work since it seems to be the only thing we have in common.
&
nbsp; The apartment is opposite Long Beach with a view of the ocean, the air lingering of salt and humidity. With the balcony doors open, there’s a soft breeze blowing against the sheer purple organza curtains which hang by the door.
“It’s a nice place you have,” I say politely.
