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Fuck. I see the hurt in his expression. The deep stare narrows as he blinks, and he turns away.
What the fuck is wrong with my big fat mouth? I want to slap it and send it to the naughty corner, tell it that Santa isn’t coming because she’s on the naughty list.
Why do I not think before I speak!
Yep, that’s how much I hate myself right now. I just can’t do anything right.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong,” I admit, trying to repair the damage.
“It came out the way you intended, the truth in its finest form. Listen, I should probably go.” He fumbles in his pocket for something, producing his cell a second later. He refuses to look my way, busily typing away to someone.
“Where are you staying?”
“A hotel on the other side of town. I’ve got a meeting with a realtor tomorrow.”
“You’re renting a place?”
He nods. During my stay in Sydney, we talked briefly about the success of his book and what that meant for him. Being honest and open, he told me how he’d lost everything he had worked so hard for because of his addiction to cocaine. Being signed by a publisher gave him that financial boost he needs to get back on his feet. Renting, in my eyes, means only one thing, though—it isn’t a permanent stay, and being in his profession, he can up and leave any time.
“Why don’t you stay here?” I offer, careful to hide the desperation in my voice.
“Adriana, I don’t—”
“I mean like on the couch? I’m sorry, I don’t know what is happening here.” It’s unexpected, the croak in my throat forms, my words choking as that lingering tear escapes my eyes.
“You’re upset because I’m standing in the home which belongs to you and your husband, and you feel guilty.”
I look up at him as his eyes have found their way back to mine. I want to touch him. I need to touch him. I beg him with my eyes to embrace me, but he doesn’t, and maybe it’s for the best.
“How did you know?” I ask, barely above a whisper.
“Body language, plus hours of therapy with Hazel.”
“OMG, Hazel. I haven’t had a chance to call her since I got back. When did you speak to her?” I get off track, welcoming the distraction.
“This morning. I went straight there to see her and spend some time with Blaze. God, I missed her.” His smile returns, and I’m hurt it isn’t me making that happen.
“Why didn’t you come see me first?”
“Why? Because I wasn’t sure I could handle it.”
“Handle what?”
“Being back in LA where all my problems started. Seeing you and not knowing how you will react in our normal environment.”
“And Hazel helped.”
I love Hazel like my own mother, and now with a better understanding, it makes sense why he’d have sought guidance first. This is far more complicated than our relationship. I know firsthand how being somewhere can trigger all the unwarranted memories of a time in your life where darkness prevailed.
Breathe, Adriana. Don’t make this all about you.
“I knew that standing beside you, not being able to touch you, would be hard. I never expected it to be this hard,” he confesses.
“Please stay,” I beg.
“It’s too hard, Adriana.”
“Please? On my couch. I know I’m not ready but knowing you’re here, I really want that.” He remains quiet, and I continue speaking the truth. “I need you here.”
