Chapter Two
Adam
Listen
You never know you’re making a mistake until it’s too late. Sometimes we know we’re taking a risk, but we always hope for the best. We hope that our mistakes will be forgiven, or at least forgotten. We hope that our mistakes will teach us something. Sometimes, unfortunately, mistakes are just mistakes that can’t be undone or forgotten.
I got the feeling that Claire was hiding something from me when I took her to the UNC vs. North Carolina State football game two weeks ago. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times a week since the night I surprised her at Cora’s, but our conversations are short and weighed down by this feeling that we’re both holding back. I want to ask her when she’s going to talk about the ring I gave her and I’m sure there are things she wants to talk to me about, but instead we speak as if we haven’t explored the depths of each other physically and emotionally. Like we’re strangers.
We met at the stadium two weeks ago in Raleigh, like some kind of fucking blind date or casual lunch with a friend. The walk across the parking lot and through the stadium to our seats was excruciatingly silent. I couldn’t even bring myself to tell a joke to break the ice. Something has shifted between us and it’s more than just the stench of the sweaty guy seated in front of us.
The whole time we were waiting for the game to begin, I just wanted to reach across and grab her hand, to touch her skin.
“Dr. Goldberg talked to me about his kids the other day,” she said as she tapped her foot nervously. “I think he was trying to make me feel comfortable, but I kept thinking about how he was trying to make me feel comfortable and that made me feel uncomfortable.”
“You sound like a nut.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of why I’m in therapy.”
She flashes me a weak smile and I have to look away. “How was your Halloween?”
Small talk?
She turns her head to glare at me. “Really?”
I shrug because I don’t really know what else to do at this point. This friendly “date” is not going the way I had planned.
“Why are we doing this?” I ask. “I mean, what the fuck are we doing here?”
She stares at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “Because I’m fucked up. Because most days I’m hanging on by a thread and I don’t want that thread to snap.”
She bites her lip and I finally reach across and grab her hand. The snack peddler arrives at our row and she immediately lets go. I order us both a hot dog. As soon as he’s gone, she breathes a deep sigh and takes a tiny nibble from her food.
“You can talk to me, Claire. That’s what I’m here for.”
“Have you talked to your dad?”
She doesn’t want to talk. Fine.
“I told you not to worry about my dad. He’ll get over me quitting eventually.”
“But what about your trust fund. How much did these tickets cost?”
“It’s just money. It’s not going to make me happy. Being with you is what makes me happy.”
A painful nervousness settles in my stomach as I speak these words, as if saying this aloud has made me doubt whether it’s actually true. Claire does make me happy, usually. But I’m definitely not happy right now.
She’s silent as I stare at the hot dog she’s barely touched. Our last meal together was pizza, shared just moments before she admitted to having sex with Chris while I was in Hawaii. Claire and I were broken up at the time, which was the main factor in my decision to forgive her. I fucked up letting her go. And as sick as it makes me to admit it, I know she would never have been with Chris if I hadn’t broken up with her. I’m the one who pushed her away.
But I’m determined to fix the mess I made. I just wish the mess inside Claire’s head were something I could repair. The only person who can fix that is Claire, but now I’m torn between giving her the space she needs to do that and the fear that I’ll lose her again if I give her too much space.
“I work with a woman named Maddie,” I begin. “She told me that her husband comes home every night and turns on ESPN for three hours, then they eat a late dinner, shower, and go to sleep. That’s been their routine for almost twenty years.”
She looks up at me with interest. I haven’t really spoken to Claire about my new job yet. I’ve been avoiding her questions every time she asks me about it. I don’t want to tell her that I hate this new job. Greg Wyatt, the president of Wyatt & Jones Architects, promised me the same level position I held while working with my dad at Parker Construction. I didn’t expect to get a lead architect position, but they’ve had me doing entry-level drafting that any asshole fresh out of college or technical school can do.
“I asked Maddie if she thinks the routine is what keeps her and her husband together,” I continue. “She told me that what keeps them together is the fact that during the three hours he watches ESPN she’s shopping online.”
Claire squints at me. “Where are you going with this?”
“What I’m trying to tell you is that familiarity is good, it’s comfortable, but sometimes we can get too comfortable. Sometimes, we make stupid decisions because we get complacent.”
“Adam, are you saying I’ve made stupid decisions or are you trying to tell me that you broke up with me because you got complacent?”
“I’m trying to tell you that sometimes you have to go outside your comfort zone to find true happiness.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath through her nose. I know that look. She wants to meditate. She used to do this a lot when we first started dating, before I found out about Abigail.
“I feel like we’ve both taken ten steps back since I went to Hawaii. I just want you to know that I’m ready to move forward.”
“I’m not ready. I’m nowhere near ready. Do you know what Dr. Goldberg diagnosed me with? Besides depression, I’ve been suffering from PTSD for the past five months. I need you to please give me some time to get my head straight. Please.”
A man stops at our row and eyeballs the seats to my right before he scoots past us with two large cups of beer. He spills a little on Claire’s jeans and I try not to get annoyed.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll get you some napkins,” he says as he moves back toward the aisle.
“It’s fine,” Claire insists, throwing her hand up to stop him. “Really, I’m fine. Go ahead and sit down. The game’s starting soon.”
The man smiles at her and I feel a tremor of jealousy reverberating through my chest. He steals a few more glances at her before he sits two seats away from me. I don’t notice Claire staring at me until I tear my eyes away from him.
“Are you mad because he spilled a little beer on my leg?”
“I’m just worried about you.”
She shakes her head because she knows I’m lying.
“Fine. Yes, I can’t stand the way he was looking at you.”
She reaches under her seat to grab her purse. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“You’re leaving?”
My phone vibrates in my pocket as she slides her purse over her shoulder. “Wait a sec. I have to get this in case it’s Greg.”
I pull my phone out of my pocket and the name flashing on the screen makes my heart stop: Lindsay Harris.
Fuck.
I glance at Claire to see if she noticed the name and she’s looking right at my screen. I hit the ignore button and tuck the phone back into my pocket, but it’s too late. Why did I have to add her name back into my address book after she called me yesterday? Claire knows Lindsay is my ex, though she doesn’t know about the drama I went through with Lindsay in Hawaii. She doesn’t know that, for one excruciating week, I thought I might be the father of Lindsay’s newborn baby, until the paternity test proved otherwise.
“I’m leaving,” she declares as she stands up.
“Claire, you don’t have to go.”
I follow after her as she climbs the steps up to the concourse level. We’re both silent as we walk through the parking lot to her car. As she digs through her purse for her car keys, I try to think of a joke to ease the tension.
“What’s that on your face?” I say as I reach up and swipe my thumb across her cheek. “Oh, it’s just beauty.”
She presses her lips together as she tries not to laugh.
“Don’t worry. I wiped it off.”
She chuckles as she shakes her head. “Oh, Adam.”
“I’ll text you some more jokes later.”
“I can’t wait.”
We stare at each other for a moment, unsure of where to go from here. The buzzing sound of my phone vibrating in my pocket breaks the silence. As she deactivates her car alarm and reaches for the door handle, I grab her hand. She freezes and I wait a moment, allowing myself to take in the soft warmth of her skin.
“I’m here for you whenever you need to talk. I want you to feel like you can call on me.”
“I just need some time to think things over.” She glances at my pocket as the buzzing continues. “You should answer that.”
She quickly slides into the driver’s seat and slams her door shut before she pulls out of the parking space and drives away. I slide my phone out of my pocket as I begin walking back toward the space where I parked my truck. I have three missed calls from Lindsay and one voicemail. I hit the voicemail icon and listen.
“Adam, I’m sorry to call you like this, but Nathan’s in California and I don’t know who else to call. I need your help. Please call me back.”
That UNC game and that voicemail from Lindsay happened two weeks ago. I wish I could say I deleted her voicemail and her phone number from my address book right then and there. Instead, two weeks later, I’m sitting in my truck outside Lindsay’s apartment in Durham on a Saturday morning.
Chapter Three
Chris
Listen
This morning’s meeting with Xander has my mind spinning. I want to share the good news with Claire, but I don’t want her to feel pressured. I think the biggest mistake I made with Claire, besides not contacting her while I was on tour, was telling her about the possibility of an open adoption. I should never have gotten her hopes up. But I plan on fixing the mess we’re in with Abby.
I slide into the driver’s seat of the Porsche and turn the key in the ignition. The radio comes on and “I Will Follow You Into the Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie is playing. This is the only song Claire knows how to play on the guitar. She always got frustrated when I tried to teach her to play anything new, but she let me teach her this song all the way through. Just thinking about this makes me miss the fuck out of her.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I drive away from Xander’s office feeling more hopeful than I’ve felt since before Claire broke up with me last year. The deal I’ve worked out with Arista Records allows me to move the recording sessions to a studio in Raleigh. They’re also willing to try to book the entire tour for the summer when Claire’s on break. I can do a few shows here and there, two to four shows a month, and I’ll still be able to be here for Claire.
I can’t tell Claire until I get the agreement in writing, but I’m confident that it will be settled soon and Claire can come on tour with me in the summer. I pull my car into a parking space at Wickedly Sweet, my mom’s bakery, feeling more optimistic than ever. When I walk into the shop, Melina is standing behind the counter, loading more cupcakes into the display case.
“Is my mom here?” I ask, though I already saw my mom’s van parked outside.
Melina slides the tray of cupcakes into the display and looks up at me with a surprised expression. “Yeah, she’s in the office. Do you want me to call her?”