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“Looks like word traveled fast,” Kennedy called, and my eyebrows dipped lower on my face as I frowned at her. “You’ve got some visitors from Florida at your front door.”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t say a word, Mad. Not a peep, I swear.”
“Hailey.” Adam and I said the name at the same time, and we drew matching breaths. It was time to pay the piper.
I crossed myself–there was no joke about it–and Adam turned fully, pulling me against him and pressing his face into my hair. It hardly seemed the time, but the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, it probably had to do with something more than my parents showing up.
“We’ve got this.” His voice was low in my ear. “Together, Madelyn. I will always haveyourback, too.”
There weren’t many people who’d had my back, no one outside the USAF, anyway, except maybe my brother and Kennedy, and my eyes filled up without warning. I didn’t try to stop a tear from leaking down my cheek that time, and I slid my hand into his hair and made a loose fist, pulling his face back. His expression was worried as he looked down at me and I lifted a hand–I was borrowing half of his move–and cupped his cheek before leaning up to press a kiss to his mouth. It was one he took willingly, with no resistance, no tension. Instead, his arms tightened around me and I heard Steve chuckle, “Well, ok then. Guess this talk was unnecessary.”
Whatever that meant, I’d ask Adam later.
I could hear voices drifting out from the house, my mother’s unnaturally bright, friendly voice that she used specifically for company. She’d used that voice with me for years, every time she saw me, right before she asked if I had a boyfriend or planned on giving her a grandchild. What were my new accomplishments since she’d seen me last? Because medals and recognition didn’t rate in her world.
There was no doubt in my mind she’d jumped on a plane the moment she found out there was a husband and an impending potential grandchild, because she couldn’t miss her opportunity to crow over the fact I’d finally caught up to society’s expectations.
That Daniela was Venezuelan was sure to invite some snide remarks from my mother, who would have similar opinions about my marriage to Adam. Considering Dad’s mixed South African heritage, though it was apparently “several generations back,” our bloodline was somehow superior and untainted as far as she was concerned.
“Adam!” Her voice was falsely bright, something that didn’t surprise me, that she’d greeted him before either of her children.
Adam’s arms tightened around me for just a second, a reassuring squeeze, and when I broke the kiss he leaned in to peck my lips once more. It did something funny to my heart, soothed and calmed, and I gave him a grateful smile. Everything he did, big or small, I was starting to suspect was with me in mind. I didn’t have to ask. That was just the kind of man he was: thoughtful, intuitive, caring.
“Look at you, young man.” Mom marched right across the yard in her block-heeled sandals, smearing bright pink lipstick on Adam’s cheek when he leaned down to hug her and she planted one on his cheek. “I suppose my daughter didn’t want to share you with anyone; it’s a miracle you had any witnesses at your wedding.” Her laugh was brittle, full of accusation.
“Maddy.” Dad leaned in to wrap an arm around me, kissing my temple in a gesture reminiscent of the way Adam did it. That was an association I didn’t want to make. “How’s my best girl?”
That was an uncomfortable flashback to the wedding.
Dad kept his arm around me as Mom dragged Adam toward the house, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder, like he needed to be sure I was nearby.
“You made a good decision, peanut.” Dad’s voice was low and conspiratorial, and he squeezed me closer. “He’s a wonderful man and he’ll treat you right.”
Adam had done nothing but treat me right, and while I appreciated that, I appreciated it less at night when he rolled away from me and went to sleep. He was cuddling me less and less the last few nights, apologizing as he rolled away, and once he’d told me it was for my own good and stubbornly wouldn’t elaborate.
Truthfully, I didn’t know how much longer he’d be willing to play this game. I could feel him withdrawing a little each day, physically and emotionally, but I was terrified to confront him about it, for fear he would admit it.
This was a mistake.
The tender moments, like we’d just shared, were becoming less and less and we’d been married weeks, not years.
Kennedy helped me pull together lunch and each time Mom tried to pull Adam away to the living room, I asked him sweetly if he could help me with something. He knew what I was doing and Mom probably did too, but he gave me a little grin each time, did what I asked and then gave me a cuddle or a kiss, or both, and maybe it was for show, but it didn’t feel like it.
Clearly I was going to have to ask him to help me with things more often.
It was an absolute miracle, but Mom made it an hour and twenty minutes without dropping any bombs. Then, “Your grandmother tells me you’re adopting a foreign baby.”
Adam and I exchanged a look: So it wasn’t Hailey’s fault.
“She also paws my husband’s ass in front of God and everyone, so I wouldn’t trust the old woman further than you can throw her,” I responded and Adam snorted.
“What’s wrong with having a baby of your own?” Mom looked genuinely perplexed and I was shocked she’d so readily overlooked Adam’s Onandaga heritage, something she’d always brought up to Steve and me when she started out with “He’s such a nice boy, it’s just…” Like that half of his bloodline was dirty.
“You know how old I am,” I snorted. “I’m not tempting fate.”
There was a wistful look on Adam’s face that I’d have understood if I thought it had anything to do withourchildren, but I couldn’t even get the guy to take off his clothes around me so those chances seemed slim.
I held up admirably under my mother’s scrutiny that afternoon, or I thought I did. I fielded an endless barrage of questions and when Adam knew I was tired, he took over answering for me, pulling me against his side so I could rest my head on his shoulder.
