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My brows lift high, taken aback with confusion. “Show me? I don’t understand.” Will he take me to him?
He stands up, walks over to my side of the table, and then gently takes me by the hand. “Come on. I just think you need to know.”
I let him hold my hand as he takes me down the hallway. With each step, my heart pounds loudly in my ears, and I don’t get a good feeling about this.
Still downstairs, we come to a stop at a set of closed doors, and I notice a small keypad affixed to the wall. Quinn punches in a sequence of numbers, and then turns the knob, opening the door to a huge computer room.
Holy shit! Who are these people? Is this an extension of the facility in Atlanta? They’re equipped with state of the art electronics and gadgets I’ve never seen before. I can’t quite seem to soak in my surroundings. I’m too stunned to move, so he tugs at my hand, pulling me into the room. He guides me to a black computer chair and takes a seat beside me as he turns on one of the many computer monitors.
It seems like forever since I last looked at a computer screen. I turn to face Quinn, who isn’t paying me a bit of attention. Instead, he’s focused on entering things on the keyboard, shifting his gaze back and forth from it to the monitor. His brows furrow as he works on the task at hand, acting all businesslike.
He lifts his chin in a quick jerk, indicating I’m to look at something on the screen, and as I do, I see Adam’s name on a file. Quinn clicks on the blue folder to open it up, and suddenly a slew of pictures stream across the screen as he slowly clicks through them in a slideshow fashion.
My hand covers my mouth as my pulse spikes at the sight of Adam’s picture. My God, it’s really him. The familiarity of his personality and looks washes over me, causing my eyes to water. It feels like forever since I’ve seen him, a sight for sore eyes. The next picture that opens up confuses me, and instinctively, without realizing it, I place my hand over Quinn’s to stop him from clicking to the next picture.
Adam’s in this picture with another woman. A real woman…a beautiful one. What the hell? “What is this?” I whisper to no one.
“This,” Quinn says matter-of-factly, “is Mr. And Mrs. Adam Taylor.” My head goes all tingly, and I let go of Quinn’s hand. I couldn’t have heard him correctly.
“What did you say?” I hoarsely whisper as my world shifts, turns on its axis, and spins the other way.
He ignores my question and clicks to the next photo, one that speaks well over a thousand words. She’s in a wedding gown, and Adam’s in a tux. Thankful I’m sitting down, I begin to feel queasy. I thought I knew how deep his love for me went. “He’s…he’s married?!” I declare in disbelief. I lean in to get a closer look at the screen, not wanting to believe my eyes.
Quinn turns to face me, giving nothing away until he sees the shocked looked on my face. His eyes turn to concern for me, and then his features soften as if he’s remorseful. Quinn reaches out with his hand, pausing and unsure, but then decides to place it on my shoulder.
“It looks like a shotgun wedding,” I express with incredulity. It’s breaking my heart, and I feel a tremendous sense of loss wash over me, one that I can’t explain. I feel the air go still around me as my blood freezes, giving me a horrid chill. My extremities begin to shake, so I wrap my arms tightly around myself as I squeeze my midsection.
“I can’t believe he moved on like that…like I was nothing,” I numbly whisper while staring blankly at the computer screen. Seeing Adam smiling and utterly happy with another is a hundred megawatt shock to my heart.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong,” Quinn’s voice breaks through the conversation I’m having with myself. “You don’t understand; he was forced to move on. He had to do this.”
No. No, he didn’t have to do this. I shake my head. No matter how you slice it, there is no excuse for him to have moved on like this, not in this short amount of time. There is no digesting this information. It sits on my stomach like a sushi plate gone rancid. My stomach lurches and flips over. I cover my mouth with my hand as I try to keep my brunch down.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I whisper through my fingers. In a flash, Quinn has hoisted me up out of the chair, and in the blink of an eye, I find myself in the bathroom face-to-face with the porcelain God as I lose my food.
