Picking Up the Pieces (38 page)

Tears lingered behind her eyes, threatening to fall. But she spoke evenly.
“I’ve
come
to terms with the pain I caused myself. I deserve every ounce of it. And you’re right, Adam. I hurt you too. But I’ve served my time for that. I’ve apologized for it, and I’ve waited for you to forgive me. But you know who else didn’t deserve the hurt I caused him? You know who never
once
asked me for the apology that he deserved?”

Don’t even fucking say it.

“Max.” Her eyes were acid on mine, burning through me as she spoke. “And you wanna know something else?” she said calmly, not waiting for me to respond to her rhetorical question. “That ‘piece of shit’ . . . he knew when my birthday was.”

Her last comment struck me like a punch to the stomach and I collapsed heavily onto her couch again, letting myself feel the full weight of her words before finally speaking.
“This won’t work, will it?”

My quiet words caused her expression to soften, and she took a seat on
a nearby chair. “What won’t?”

I buried my face in my hands as I tried to rub away the tension before making eye contact with her.
“Us,” I said. “No matter what we do, we’ll never be able to fix what’s broken.”

She let out a sharp breath.
“So what does that mean? You’re giving up? Just gonna throw in the towel, call it quits, and walk out the door, Adam?” Disgust laced every syllable as she spoke. “Way to be all-in.”

“You said it yourself, Lily.
I can’t let the past go. As hard as I try to push Max Samson out of my mind, he just stays there.” She rolled her eyes at the truth in my confession. “But there’s one thing you haven’t realized.” I let her stare fixate on me before I spoke again, wanting to make sure that she heard what I had to say. “You’re no better at leaving the past behind than I am. You’ll always compare me to Max: who forgives you and who doesn’t, which one of us remembers your birthday and which forgets. Because, as hard as you try to push Max Samson from
your
mind,” I said slowly, “you just can’t do it either.”

I stood up cautiously, not wanting to jar her anymore than I just had.
She watched me rise, looking at me as if she’d just seen a ghost. Maybe she had. I leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her forehead before turning toward the door to leave. “Bye, Lily,” I said, stopping to put my key on the small table by the door as my hand gripped the doorknob. “And for what it’s worth, I do love you.”

I didn’t wait to hear her response before closing the door softly behind me. Because while the thought of hearing her speak those same words scared me, the possibility of not hearing them scared me just a little bit more.

Chapter 39: Adam

Despite the fact that my love for Lily had been real, so had the feeling that our relationship had become strained beyond repair.
When I’d closed that door to Lily’s apartment, I’d effectively closed the door to that chapter of my life. And a part of me was devastated by it. For so long, I’d thought that if we just tried hard enough, we could go back to how we felt when we’d first met: that carefree newness and comfortable safety that we all take for granted until one day we realize we’ve lost it.

             
The truth is, I was sad. Not sad because I felt I’d made the wrong decision. I knew I hadn’t. Lily and I could have never made our relationship work. But that’s what saddened me: putting so much effort into something and failing miserably anyway. I mourned the loss of what I thought could have been.

             
Though the grief I felt for our failed relationship felt constricting at first, the more I thought logically about the situation, the more I realized that I felt like a weight had been lifted
off
of me too. I’d put so much effort into trying to forgive Lily, to forget about what had happened in the past, I hadn’t stopped to enjoy the present.

             
So when my thirty-fourth birthday rolled around a week and a half later, I couldn’t wait to enjoy some time with family. My parents had invited Eva and me over for dinner and cake, and I was looking forward to the beautiful late May weather while I relaxed on their back deck.

***

“Mom? Dad? We’re here," I called, as I entered the front door.

             
“In here, Adam. Happy birthday.” My mom’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, where I could smell the delicious aromas coming from the oven.

             
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, leaning down to give her a hug and a peck on the cheek. “I thought we were grilling today. What are you making?”

             
“We are grilling. Your dad’s out on the deck making some grilled chicken and some sort of pork. Just making some homemade baked beans and roasted potatoes in here. Where’d Eva go?”

             
I turned around, thinking she’d followed me into the kitchen, but she was nowhere to be found. “Eva, where are you?” I called.
Teenagers.

             
“In here!” she yelled from the family room.

             
“Well, come in here and say hi to your grandmother.” The sound of Eva’s exaggerated groan meant that she had enough sense to listen, but as she rounded the corner still texting, I rolled my eyes. “You know your friends will still be there if you remove your thumbs from your phone, right?”

             
“Yes, Dad.” She returned my eye roll with one of her own before putting her phone in her pocket. “It’s nice to see you, Grandma,” she said sincerely as she hugged my mom.

             
“You too, sweetheart. Adam, why don’t you go out and keep your father company. Eva and I will finish in here.”

             
As I slid open the glass doors to the deck, I smiled sweetly at my mom and shot Eva a threatening look that let her know she needed to stay off her phone and help with dinner.

             
“Hey, Adam. Didn’t even know you were here,” my dad said, wrapping his big arms around me and squeezing tightly. “Happy birthday.”

             
“Thanks. It’s good to see you.” I moved to the edge of the deck to take a look into the yard that was currently covered in mounds of dirt. “You’re putting in a pool?” I couldn’t believe my parents had finally decided to get an in-ground pool. I’d asked them for years when I was growing up, but they always said it’d be too much of a pain to keep up with. “What happened to it being too expensive and annoying to maintain? Did it suddenly get cheaper and easier now that I’m thirty-four?”

             
My dad let out a low laugh and his belly shook, reminding me of Santa in a grilling apron. “No, still expensive as hell. Just have the time for it now that we’re both getting close to retiring. Plus, we know Eva and her friends would love it. And any other grandkids we might be getting in the future.” He winked, elbowing me playfully.

             
I laughed, hoping that he wouldn’t see how awkward his comment had made me feel. I couldn’t shake the irony that plagued me after his not-so-subtle hint. Since I’d had Eva at such a young age, they were never quick to push me to have more kids. But now, with their son pushing thirty-five, I guess the realization had set in for them that I wasn’t getting any younger. The realization had set in for me too.

             
Luckily, it wasn’t hard to get my dad to switch subjects. One mention of the Phillies and he’d launched off into a critical analysis that would put any grad student to shame.

             
We spent the next fifteen minutes talking baseball before my dad asked me to go get some plates to set the table because dinner was nearly ready. I made my way inside to find my mom and Eva putting the side dishes on plates. Opening the cabinet, I removed four plates and set them down on the counter. But my mom quickly took out three more and placed them on top of the others. “What are these for?” I asked.

             
“We’re having company,” my mom replied simply.

             
I laughed. “Oookay, I thought
we
were company.” I gestured between Eva and myself.

             
“You are, but I invited a few more.”

             
Before I could call my mom out on her furtiveness, I heard voices coming from the deck. The “company” must have gone around back. I grabbed a few more essentials—napkins, forks, and knives—before heading back toward the door.

             
I’d just slid open the door and looked to my right toward the table when I saw her.

             
“You remember the Stantons, right, Adam?” my dad asked.

             
I felt my eyes widen and for the first time since I was in middle school, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Yes, this time I remember.
“Carly,” I said, grinning awkwardly as I fumbled with the utensils and plates while I tried to shake her hand. “Nice to see you again.” My tone was innocent, but my thoughts were anything but.

             
“Likewise,” Carly replied with the same formality that I had exhibited.

My dad interrupted the staring contest Carly and I
had found ourselves in. "I'm just going to take this cake the Stantons brought inside, and let your mom know our guests are here." My eyes briefly followed my dad into the house before refocusing on the people in front of me.

             
Carly’s mom stretched out a warm hand to me. “Good to see you, Adam. It’s been so long. You’re all grown up now.” I briefly wondered if she might pinch my cheeks like I was ten.
She had the same eyes as Carly and though the color of her hair was slightly darker than her daughter’s, there were more similarities than differences between the two. It was like looking at Carly twenty-five years from now. And I liked what I saw.

I quickly pulled myself from my Mrs. Robinson daydream just in time to remember I hadn’t even responded.
“Nice to see you again as well, Mrs. Stanton.”

“Please, call me Joanne.
You’re clearly not in high school anymore.”

“So when was the last time you two saw each other?” Mr. Stanton asked, gesturing between me and Carly.
I realized I’d been so shocked that I hadn’t even bothered to greet him. I recovered quickly with a firm shake of his hand while I thanked him for coming.

Then I remembered that I still needed to answer his question: when was the last time I’d seen Carly?
Naked? In November.
“Um . . .” I shot a look to Carly to try to gauge her thoughts.

She looked equally as thrown by her father's question as I was, and she stumbled over her words.
“At the . . . at the reunion actually. We saw each other then.”

“Just briefly,” I added quickly.
“We really didn’t see much of each other."
Idiot.

Carly gave me a knowing smile, which I returned
—I hoped—inconspicuously.

Finally, the awkwardness subsided as we settled into our chairs on the deck to enjoy our dinner.
“It was so nice of you to invite us,” Carly said to my mom with a sweet smile. “The food’s delicious. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in what feels like forever. I’ve been working such long hours lately. Takeout has become my new best friend.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime,” my mom replied.

Joanne put her hand on Carly’s arm and gave her a loving squeeze.
“It’s definitely nice to all get together like this. Ever since our youngest, Katie, has gone off to college, empty nest syndrome has set in. Since Carly’s the oldest, we keep telling her it’s time to settle down so we can get some little ones running around the house again.”

Carly shook her head, but I could tell she wasn’t as annoyed by her mother’s comment as she pretended to be.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I recalled the similar words my father had uttered not even an hour earlier. “They definitely grow up fast,” I said, feeling the need to add to the conversation. “I can’t believe Eva will be in high school next year.” I looked up at Carly, who was paying rapt attention to Eva’s reaction. “She’ll be the same age we were when we first met.”

“God, Dad, you’re so embarrassing.”

I shrugged as I lifted my drink to my lips. "What else is new?" I laughed before taking a sip.

Carly leaned closer to Eva.
“That’s what dads do best.”

She glanced over at her own father, who
simply shrugged. “Part of the job, I guess.”             

“See,” Carly added.
“They all do it.”

The rest of the dinner flowed easily with conversations about our jobs, Eva, and the random reality shows that Eva and Carly both watched.
I was shocked to learn that
Keeping Up with the Kardashians
now apparently had
two
viewers.

             
When it was time for dessert, Carly offered to go inside and get the cake they’d brought with them from a local bakery. And I decided to be a helpful
son and clear the table while the rest of them relaxed on the deck. Not surprisingly, it didn't take much convincing to keep Eva outside. She was content to catch up on her tweets while the adults talked.

             
“So,” I said when Carly and I were finally alone inside. “This was a . . . surprise.”

             
“Good surprise, or bad surprise?” she asked.

             
“Good,” I quickly assured her. “I just didn’t expect it. That’s all. When I first saw you, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure what you had told them.”

             
She laughed, though I wasn’t sure why until she spoke. “Well, I almost told them what a good lay you were, but I didn’t want my mom to try to seduce you.” She shrugged. “It was a long walk up the street. It was hard to not fill the silence with such juicy details.”

             
A loud laugh escaped me and I nearly dropped the glass I was getting ready to put in the dishwasher. “Wait, your mom wouldn’t really try to seduce me, right?”

             
“Yes, Adam,” she laughed. “I’m kidding. You should’ve seen your face though. Priceless.”

             
I rubbed my face to hide the embarrassment I felt at my own credulity. “A good lay, huh?”

             
“Yup,” she answered, popping the P flirtatiously as she said it. “But I’m guessing you’re good at a lot of things.” She moved toward me, a seductive gleam in her eyes as she wrapped her arms around my neck, and I was momentarily stunned by how right they felt there. Then she planted a soft kiss on my lips that held just enough passion to make me want to throw her on the counter and take her right there in my parents’ kitchen.

Christ, Adam, get a grip.

“What are you thinking?” she asked when our kiss finally broke and she pulled back enough to look at me.

I gazed into her eyes and brushed her soft red hair away from her face.
“I’m thinking this beats Brad Holbrook’s basement.”