Home > Wish You Were Here(10)

Wish You Were Here(10)
Author: Renee Carlino

“Ah, this is so sweet. Oh, they’re dancing now, under the streetlight. Holy shit, he’s getting down on one knee.”

“He’s proposing to her?” I asked.

“Wait, I’m a great lip reader. I can tell you what he’s saying. Okay, he’s saying, I know we only just met, but I think you’re amazing.”

“Wow, what a coincidence,” I said.

“Wait, there’s more. He’s saying, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. Oh my god, kitten, he did it.”

“What, what?” I shouted, caught up in the moment.

“He asked her. He said, ‘Marry me?’ ”

I finally jumped out of bed, dragging the sheet behind my naked body.

I stood in back of Adam, wrapping my arms around his middle as he faced the street. Just as I was peeking over his shoulder to see what he was watching, he turned and wrapped himself around me. “You missed it,” he said. “They’re gone.”

“I missed it, dammit. Where’d they go?”

“Probably to have sex somewhere.”

“Or maybe get a donut and celebrate?”

“Yes, they probably went for a donut.” He laughed and then kissed my nose. “Let’s dance.”

We swayed back and forth until we were kissing again. He lifted me with ease to straddle him, then he pushed me against the glass of the front window. “Someone will see us,” I said.

“So what? It’s the middle of the night. Don’t we do this? Isn’t this what we do?”

“What, Adam?” I said huskily, trying to catch my breath as he ran his tongue across my neck and up to my ear.

“Stay up all night, talking, making love?”

I squirmed. “Yes, we do.”

He pushed harder against me. “Let’s be in the moment.” I shivered from his voice near my ear. He pulled the sheet around us as he gripped my bottom, pressing me into the glass. Gliding into me with ease, he buried his face in my neck and whimpered. “God, you feel so good.” He looked up; we were face-to-face. There was curiosity in his eyes.

Something hit me. Adam had done this before, clearly. I looked around the room quickly. Any one or every one of these women in the paintings had probably been pressed against this window, just like this, while Adam moved slowly, in and out, professing his undying love to a person he didn’t know.

He finished and then breathed into my neck while he held me.

I kept still, squeezing my eyes shut, forcing the tears back. This is the part about one-night stands that I hate. In the end, everyone is just pretending.

The rumble of Adam’s chest shook my body as he began laughing. I felt as if I were going to throw up. He set me down. “We probably looked like a ghostly blob in that white sheet, fucking against the window.” His humor suddenly seemed less charming and more callous.

“Mmmhmm,” I said, a sullen note in my voice.

He stood up and took a step back, recognizing the change in my demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

“My name is Charlotte.” My stomach was twisting in knots.

“I know,” he said. “What’s wrong, Charlotte?”

Still leaning against the glass, I wrapped the sheet around my body. Adam stood naked, facing me. “Nothing,” I mumbled.

“Something’s wrong.” With his thumb and index finger he pinched my chin, tilting my head up to look him in the face. He was smiling with his eyes, with utter sincerity and warmth.

He leaned in with confidence and kissed me, slowly, sweetly. “You’re stunning and that was beautiful and I loved every second of it. I’m sorry you didn’t like it. Did I hurt you?”

Was it true? Was it a line?

“No, but are you going to paint it?”

“Paint what?”

“Us, what we just did?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. I don’t need to. I’ll never forget it and it’s sacred.”

He paints to remember?

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe the stranger I had met on the street hours before wasn’t just playing me. I wanted to believe he was falling for me. I kissed him, dropping the sheet and wrapping my whole body around him. My chest shook from the emotion. He held me tightly to him, rubbing my back as he carried me to his bed and lay me down. I was so bone-achingly tired that nothing felt real. It was all dreamlike.

He kissed my nose. “You should get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll make you breakfast when we get up.”

“Things will be different in the morning,” I said.

“Why?” He slid under the sheet next to me. I put my head on his chest and he held me like we had been sleeping that way for years.

The glow of dawn began to invade the loft, unwelcome and painfully bright. We were fighting sleep but completely calm, wrapped in each other.

“Have I asked you to marry me?” he said sleepily. We were back on.

“Every day,” I replied.

“Well . . .”

“I always say not yet.”

Adam was dozing off and slurring when he said, “Why?”

I’m certain he was asleep when I finally replied, “Because I don’t want you to stop asking.”

6. Just a Dream

Hours later, I was startled awake by the sun blasting through the large loft window. I was naked and alone in Adam’s bed. I glanced down at my buzzing phone and noticed three missed calls, all from my mom. I quickly texted Helen.

Me: I’m fine. Thanks for caring.

Helen: You guys bone?

Me: I’ll call you later.

Helen: That’s a yes, Major Humperdinck.

Me: Stop texting me.

Helen: Your mom called here twice. Said your phone was off. I told her you were at church. HAHAHAHAHAHAH!

Me: I’ll call her in a sec.

“Adam?” I called out, but he didn’t answer. I figured he was in the bathroom.

I dialed my mom’s number. She picked up on the first ring. “Church? Please. You’ll have to tell Helen to come up with something better than that.”

“I went to get donuts.” I was trying to rush the phone call before Adam came back into the room. “What’d you call for?”

“Nice manners. I just called to say hello. Am I allowed?” she snickered.

“Of course. Sorry, Mom. I’m fine, really.”

“Are you still coming to dinner tonight?”

Right then Adam walked into the room and looked at me peculiarly. “Hello,” he said in a timid voice.

“Ummm . . .” I was tongue-tied.

“Did I hear a man’s voice?” my mother said.

“No. Um, so yeah, I’ll be there for dinner. What time?”

“Around six?”

“That works,” I said. Adam was still staring. He walked over and picked up my clothes and set them on the bed before heading toward the kitchen. That was weird.

“Love you, Mom, I gotta go.”

Just then I heard a loud crash punctuated by a breathy groan from Adam in the kitchen. I ran toward the commotion, sporting just the sheet. He was buckled over, grumbling, “Fuck, fuck!”

I ran around the bar and put my hand on his back. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

He was wincing in pain, holding his hand to his head. “Adam, did you cut yourself?” I looked in the sink at the broken glass and then at his hand. There was no blood. “Adam, I said are you okay?”

He was groaning, clenching his jaw. “I’m okay,” he said finally. “I just . . . too much alcohol last night, not enough sleep.”

“We didn’t drink that much.”

“You know, you’re not really my girlfriend.” And then he glanced toward my clothes on the bed. “I don’t need your help, okay?”

I stared at him for a moment, then stood up and pulled the sheet tighter around me. “Trust me, I wasn’t confused by last night.”

I rushed over to the bed, fighting back tears, grabbed my clothes, and went into the bathroom. What the fuck is happening?

When I walked out of the bathroom, he rose from the kitchen floor and rushed to the door to head me off. “Tell me something.”

   
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