“If only we had met a few months ago. Then maybe, although I apparently have a thing for the sickly type.” I rest my hand on his chest with a sad smile. “It means a lot that you were here for me. Really. If you hadn’t showed up for me to slobber all over your shoulder, who knows where I would’ve ended up.”
“You seem like a good kid. It’d be a shame to see you fall apart over this guy.” He pulls a sleek, leather wallet from inside his suit jacket, leaving a $10 bill on the table for his last beer. “I’ll walk you back. You let him know you’re in this for whatever it’s worth. If you can work it out, I’d still love to take you both out tonight. The party’s going to be off the hook, I promise.”
“Okay, now that I’ve cried on your shoulder, it seems like we can bypass the polite talk.” I tilt my head. “What exactly do you do for a living?”
“I’m a producer for AMC.”
“Seriously?”
He gestures to his suit. “If I was joking, I wouldn’t be able to afford this suit.”
I scoot over to kiss his warm cheek.
His eyes widen in surprise. “What’s that for?”
“Just...thanks.”
He stands, holding his hand out for me with a bright smile. “Better wait to thank me later, after I’ve shown you the time of your life.”
The brownstone is dead silent, as if there’s a shroud of gloom spread across it. My feet squeak against the wooden stairway as I climb to the top, calling Adam’s name.
When he doesn’t answer, fear pulsates through my veins. What if he ran off? What if he thinks I left him for good? What if he collapsed somewhere?
“Adam?” I call out again, my voice elevated with panic. “Adam, where are you?”
I check his bedroom. He’s not there, but his things are still scattered everywhere. At least he didn’t pack up and leave. Maybe he’s out looking for me.
I don’t know why I didn’t think to look on the balcony, but that’s where I find him, red-eyed, staring out at our diverse neighborhood. His head hangs low, his shoulders slumped. He looks awful, but I’m still glad to see him. I’m glad he stayed.
“Hey,” I squeak from the doorway, popping my head out.
His head darts in my direction, his eyes closing in a silent prayer of thanks.
“I’m sorry I ran off without telling you where I was going. You dropped quite the load on me. I just needed time to think, and... deal. Can you come inside for a minute?”
Standing slowly, he dips his head before following me inside. I hear the door close and wheel around, rushing at him. I stop when we’re only a heartbeat apart, staring at him for a moment, hoping he can see in my eyes the compassion ripping through me. I pull at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he doesn’t stop me. I’m careful when I pull it over his arms, lifting it off over his head. His hands return to his side.
I run my fingers over his scars, touching him lightly as if he’ll break from my touch. I hear his shuddering breaths, but my eyes don’t leave the evidence of traumas he’s endured. I lower down, holding his hips as my lips brush over each incision with soft resolve. His fingers settle inside my hair, cradling me to his trembling stomach. I stop to look up at him, one hand pressed to his wounds and the other reaching for his hand.
“I love you, Adam. I tried to pretend that it was nothing more than casual sex between us, but I care about you so much I feel as if I’ll burst every time you look at me.
If you won’t let me help you, it won’t change anything. It won’t change the fact that you’re branded in my heart forever. It won’t change the fact that I want to be with you, however long you want that to be. I’m yours.”
He brings me back to my feet. Our eyes latch as he brushes my hair behind my shoulders then cradles my face in his hands. The kisses start slow and gentle, each of us tenderly touching the other with meaning and grace. I try to lose myself in the smell of his sweet breath, the caress of his tongue, the taste of his mouth, but I can’t stop wondering how many times we’ll have left to do this, how many days before he becomes too sick to continue on. Soon I’m crying softly against him.
Adam pulls away slowly, drying my tears with his thumbs. “Do you want to stop?”
“I want you to make love to me,” I whisper, shaking my head. “For real this time.”
He scoops me up into his arms. There’s a strained look in his eyes, reminding me he’s weak. I loop my arms around his neck and kiss him as we pass the kitchen and enter his room.
He lowers me to the mattress, breaking the connection of our mouths to undress me.