Trouble Won't Wait (32 page)

As he begins moving, I arch to meet him, noting, loving, the new feel of him inside of me. I’m crying out unintelligibly, lost in a sea of my own pleasure. His pace quickens; he’s nearly finished. The thought of him coming inside me makes my thoughts swirl. Hot fluid releases from me. I can feel the slickness now, and hear it. I’m here, with him, and nothing has ever been better. He touches my clitoris again, causing violent spasms to wrack me. I’m shuddering inside and out, thinking his name over and over, maybe calling it out.

Tears are dripping past my ears as he shakes into me, panting what I think is my name, along with “God.”

He’s kissing me again before his spasms or mine have completely receded. I’m pretty sure that was the best sex I’ve ever had, and he’s ready for more.

* * * *

Adam and I are lying on his bed, as tangled together as the garden hose after the kids have used it. Inside, I know my heart is every bit as tangled with his. There will be no undoing the knots now. He rubs my back slowly with his right hand, and my hands cup his face, while I wish for time to freeze, let us remain like this always.

“Adam?”

“Hmm?”

We haven’t said much since we finished making love again. I didn’t know it was possible for my body to get so aroused–it
hurt
with want, mere minutes after such intense gratification.

“If you’re not estranged from your family, why were you alone on Thanksgiving?”

His answer is fast. Too fast. “I told you, because I was covering for one of my lead guys.”

I’m still holding his face in my hands, and I kiss him, then nip his fibbing lip, and shake my head at him.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” I urge. More secrets. What’ll it be this time?

He hesitates, then, “I was supposed to go to Denver to Brenda’s. My parents were there. That Wednesday, I just got a feeling. Something told me not to go, to stay here instead.” He’s looking at me, waiting for me to pooh-pooh his premonition.

I smile at him before I offer my own confession. It only became clear to me while I was writing poetry, remembering.

“The night I caught Mike with Lana? I went to the garage to get another drink. I never got the drink because I beat it back inside when I saw them together. But inside, I guzzled down the drink I’d left sitting on the counter, mostly full. I didn’t need a drink, but something made me go to the garage right then.”

Divine intervention is the only explanation I can think of for this. “Aunt Clara said if the Lord sent me somebody I loved, it was for a reason. She’s as old as God. Maybe she has a direct line with him.” We half laugh at the idea, but I don’t doubt for a minute this was the reason Adam stayed home alone for Thanksgiving. “And Christmas? Did you know your sister was coming here?”

“No. Our parents are in Germany. They wanted us to come, but I didn’t wanta leave you, in case you needed me.” This makes me feel guilty, but loved. “And Brenda decided she was too close to her due date to travel that far. She surprised me by showing up here.”

“I heard she laughed at you for giving Ben the money back.”

“She thinks everything I do is funny. Like this house. She thinks it’s tiny. ‘Quaint’ was her word. But I told her later why I gave the kids their money.”

What does that mean?

He says, “I came clean about stalking you, and our would-be affair.”

“What does she think of it?”

“She thinks I’m crazy for you, and wants us to get busy making cousins for her baby.”

“And your parents? Will they be put off by my poor-ass roots?” It sounds like they’re incredibly wealthy, probably snobs like most Aspenites.

“I think they gave up on me ever marrying again. Last time I saw them, Mom let me know she’d still love me if I was gay.”

“Now
that’s
a good one!”

Adam isn’t laughing as much as I am.

“You wanta take pictures and email them, to put her mind at ease? Not
those
kind of pictures, pervert!”

Now he’s the one laughing.

After another bout of kissing, I have to know something. “Sooo.” I pause, gathering courage to face the possibility of an answer, spoken or not, that I don’t like. “Do you think of Laura when you look at me?”

Adam’s eyes never waver from mine. “Not since the first time I heard you speak.”

Whew! “Will you come with me to show Aunt Clara that I caught you?”

“It was I who caught
you
, chased you down with my car, remember?”

“Okay, whatever. Then I have to eat. I haven’t been with you in days, so–”

“You haven’t been eating,
again
?”

“Basically.” I’ll sound like a moron if I tell him I got sick every time I thought of losing him, but I still stayed away. That my body knew I was supposed to be with him, and I ignored it. “But I’m hungry now. Starved.”

Chapter 19

Aunt Clara is just sitting down to the third section of her sandwich when we arrive. I’ve warned Adam about the heat in her apartment, so he’s in a t-shirt.

“Well, just look at you two. Been busy since lunch, have ya?” she asks, making no attempt to spare my acute embarrassment. “Looked like somethin’ the cat dragged in this mornin’.” A gnarled finger points at me.

Adam is once again clued in as to how bad-off I was without him. He puts his arm around my shoulders and tells Clara, “I’ll see that she wakes up in better shape from here on out.”
Fight fire with fire, baby
.

She grins mischievously at us, and makes me eat a Nutter Butter before I can leave. The lady must think those cookies are the base of the food pyramid. She’s a dietician’s nightmare.

On the way back to Adam’s car, my cell rings. It’s a call from my house. “Hello.”

“Hi.” It’s Mike, of course. “Just checkin’ you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, thanks. You?” This is a weird conversation, and doomed to get weirder.

“Mandy, where are you? It’s late to be out walking. Do you need a ride?”

“No, I’m with somebody. Thanks for asking.”
Please let this go. Please let this go
.

Adam has figured out who it is, and is watching me expectantly. Expecting what, I can’t tell. We get in the Jag, while Mike pushes on.

“Okay, just wanted to make sure. But the Durango’s here.”

“Mike, I know other people with cars. You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

I’m going way easy on him, and Adam scowls.

“What time will you be back?”

“
Mike!
I’m hanging up now.” I toss the phone in my purse in disgust.

Adam is shaking his head. “You wanta go by there, get this over with?”

“So then one day he hits the angry part of divorce, and he tells the kids Mom was sleeping with Mr. Treadmill before Dad moved out, and it’s her fault our family’s a shambles? No thanks.”

“You must’ve been Catholic growing up.”

“Why?”

“You have massive quantities of guilt. What did you do to him, anyway?”

I look out the window, trying to fight the self-reproach. I know what Mike did was worse, but I’m not acclimated to purposely hurting others, especially those I love. I guess I was caught up in being the injured spouse.

“When I realized he was still sneaking around with Lana, while trying to win me back, I set out to prove it. Then I tricked him into believing I wanted to reconcile.”

I’m not looking at Adam, but I can hear his breathing getting deeper, shorter. He still hasn’t started the Jag.

“He broke it off with Lana Christmas Eve morning, because he thought we’d be together again. I followed him and Lana outside at Brad’s and recorded them arguing and her…trying to suck him back in.” Such an accurate description. “He turned her down cold, then came inside and in front of all our friends, gave me a huge ring and proposed again.”

I have to look at Adam now, see what he thinks.

He’s grinning. “And?”

Deep breath. He’ll think I’m a cold bitch when he hears. “I exposed him and Lana, rejected his proposal, then gave him back our wedding band.”

“So Lana got dumped, and then Mike did too. You broke his heart?”

“Hard and fast.” It still feels good to know I managed it, though in my heart I know it was a vile, inhuman thing.

“Was it sweet? Revenge?”

“Bittersweet.” I shrug.

“And you know it’ll hurt him more if he knows he’s already been replaced.”

“You’re not a replacement, Adam. You’re an upgrade. But I guess I’d like to spare him that pain for as long as possible. Will you humor me?”

“Only because I pity him, for losing what he had.”

Excellent answer, lover
. “Thanks.”

“Where should we eat?”

“Feel up to meeting Mark’s wife?” Might as well get him over this fear of Big Brother.

“Will Mark be there?”

“Chickenshit.”

He’s cornered and he knows it. “Which way to his house?”

* * * *

Mark is surprised to see me at his door. “Hey. Figured you’d be shacked up all night.” He looks at Adam as if implying he’s inferior for not lasting longer.

Adam looks defensive and intimidated already. I know how to take care of this.

I stand on tiptoe to pat Mark’s cheek, and tell him, “If ya know what you’re doing, it doesn’t take as long to do the job, Bro.”

Mark grins and tips his head at me.

Kenna laughs beside him.

“Kenna, this is Adam. Adam, my sister-in-law Kenna,” I say.

He says, “I hear you cuss like a trucker.”

It makes Kenna blush profusely, but Mark is won over by any guy who teases a girl. Poor Kenna. I don’t know how she puts up with him and his incessant taunting.

When Kenna and I leave to pick up Chinese, the guys have their feet up on the coffee table watching the end of a football game. We’re making plans for the New Year’s party.

She tells me Ben has spilled the beans to Mom about my marriage. I guess in the back of my mind I was hoping he would, so I wouldn’t have to. Mom was sad for me, but places the blame with Mike, not me, from what she told Kenna.

The Chinese place must think we’re feeding one hell of a crowd tonight, from the huge order we picked up. Mark always eats like a horse, and tonight my appetite is surging. Aunt Clara should be pleased after I’ve been eating with Adam for a couple of weeks.

* * * *

It’s Monday, and I’m down in my office trying to get all the year-end stuff together for the business. I’ve given up hope of trying to write this week. Between my head being in the clouds over Adam, and all the bookkeeping I have to do, my book will have to go on hold. I just bet the new editor I’ll be working with will be more patient with me than the last, at any rate.

I yawn and toss away the envelopes and advertising inserts from the year’s bank statements. It was pretty late when Adam drove me home last night. After dinner at Mark’s, we returned to Adam’s house. Since he still had his Christmas tree up, we went ahead and made love under it. The poor thing is in pretty bad shape from Rascal climbing up the trunk and then trying to walk out on the limbs. Silly cat was bent on attacking Adam’s feet while we were trying to be amorous. Adam finally plucked a round ornament from the tree and then locked Rascal in the spare bedroom with it.

We fell asleep, snuggled together on the floor in front of his fireplace. Waking in his arms was pure bliss and I had a hell of time convincing myself to brave the cold and come home before morning.

My phone is ringing. I hope it’s Adam.

No.

Sigh.

“Hi, Mike.”

“Hey, baby.” God, I wonder when he’ll kick the habit of calling me that. If I don’t reply, will he take the hint? “Um. Just checkin’ in.”

“I’m getting stuff ready to send to the accountant next week.”

“Oh. So…you wanta go with me to Mark’s on New Year’s?”

I can just see him standing there with one hand holding his cell to his ear, and the other jammed in his pocket.

“I don’t think so. Mark’s not feeling so hospitable to you right now.”

Silence. Mike knew this. Christmas Day, he knew Mark was only letting him in his house so our kids wouldn’t have their holiday wrecked. Did Mike really think he could date me now and somehow ingratiate himself with my brother again?

Let me take said possibility right off the table. “I have…” It’s so hard to tell my husband I have a date. My mouth is suddenly dry, in contrast to my skin, where a cold sweat just broke out. “Um, I’ll be going to the party with somebody else.”

“Brad?” he snaps.

Just as quick, I answer, “No. Mark set him up with one of Kenna’s girlfriends.” Thank God, because I really didn’t want to lead Brad on any longer.

“Who?”

His demanding tone ticks me off, so I’ll drop my other little bomb on him, too. “That’s my business, not yours. And I’ll be leaving town overnight Thursday. I’ll be back late Friday, so if you wanta stay at the house again–”