"Prenups, insurance, alibis."
I turn and glare at him. "You sound just like my brother."
"What? You don't believe in prenups?"
"I don't not believe in them," I say, choosing my words carefully. "I get their purpose, and I wouldn't be against signing one, but the whole idea of planning the divorce before the wedding bums me out." I can't help but laugh. "All I have to my name is a sewing machine, a bunch of fabric, and a car that has started making a rattling sound whenever I turn on the air conditioner. I'm hardly the person prenups were created for."
"I don't think you'll need a prenup," Adam says, and I turn to face him, waiting for what he plans on saying next.
Those words never come, though. About the time Adam opens his mouth, Carter rounds the corner and opens his own mouth.
"Are you two trying to kill yourselves? Frostbite, hypothermia … do you two not enjoy having all your toes?" Carter asks as he and Rachel circle us. "Because this is how you lose your toes."
"Sorry, Dad," Adam says to Carter as we climb to our feet. He offers his hand to help me up and I gladly take it, despite the fact that his gloves are as wet and cold as mine.
Carter laughs. "Hey, if you like freezing your balls off, be my guest and stay out here."
Rachel and I fall in behind the guys as we head back to the apartment. Ahead of us, Carter is telling Adam about the harsh winters soldiers encountered during the Civil War. I catch only snippets of the conversation and am happy to not being hearing the gory details of frostbite and how it was remedied with unsterilized medical tools sharp enough to cut through---
Ugh, I'm going to be sick.
"Hey, are you going home tonight?" Rachel asks, knocking the graphic images of blood and bullets to bite on out of my head.
I gesture to the foot and a half of snow we're currently plowing through. "I wasn't planning on it. Unless you have a sled and a herd of huskies on hand. Why?"
Rachel sighs. "No reason. I just miss my bed and stuff, you know."
"Yeah, sure," I say, and I understand where she's coming from. The thing is, until she mentioned it just now, I hadn't missed my apartment at all.
"Hey, have you talked to Hank? Is he okay?"
"I texted him a couple hours ago. He's fine. Snowed in like the rest of us. Why?"
"No reason. I just wanted to make sure everyone was safe," Rachel says, holding the door to the apartment building open for me. I clamor in, happy for the warmth. She watches Adam and Carter climb up the stairs. They have thankfully changed gears and are now deep in conversation about some video game and are completely oblivious to us, as well as the watery footprints they leave on the carpet. Rachel sighs and trudges up the stairs behind them.
When I get to the top of the stairs, Adam is waiting for me. He loops my arm around his and we watch as Rachel and Carter fall into their routine of Rachel always knowing which pocket Carter has his keys in, and Carter assuring Rachel that she looks great, even with chapped lips and wind burnt cheeks.
I turn to give Adam a promising smile and am a little surprised to find him already smiling at me.
"Soon," I whisper as I nod my head toward our idiot friends.
"Whatever you say."
Chapter Twelve
I wake up to an alarm that isn't mine ringing, immediately followed by a slew of what I imagine are Spanish swearwords.
"Sorry, Evie. Go back to sleep," Adam whispers. In the streetlight coming in from the window, I see him grab clothes out of the dresser.
"It's okay, it's your room," I say, but it comes out part yawn. "I take it the bakery's opened this morning?"
"Yeah, but stay here as long as you need to," he says with a smile.
"Thanks, but the shop's probably open today. I should go and try to free my car. I can't show up to work in this." I gesture to the shirt I'm wearing, yet another of Adam's superhero tees. "My coworkers would never let me live it down."
And by "coworkers", I mean "Jamie". I went in with beard burn back in November (Grant is usually clean shaven, but he went all out for 'No Shave November' this past year and my face took hell for it) and Jamie teased me for a solid two weeks.
"If you're not sick of me yet and you have time, swing by the bakery before you head into work and I'll set you up with some pastries for the shop."
"You don't have to do that, Adam. Seriously, you've already been more than a gracious host by putting up with me as long as you have."
"It's been fun," he says, and I raise an eyebrow. "I know. I'm surprised too."
"At least we've been mildly productive," I say as I get out of bed and collect my clothes. "Rachel and Carter looked genuinely happy last night."
It's true, too. Once we got out of the cold and into warm clothes (by the by, Adam is not getting these socks back; they are the warmest, coziest things my toes have ever encountered), Rachel and Carter snuggled up together on the couch and talked about how they met. Rachel had her head on Carter's shoulder, and Carter kept tracing little circles on her arm. They were absolutely precious.
It was actually a little disgusting. But promising. Adam and I high-fived before we went to bed. Well, before I went to bed and he went to couch.
"You know, one truly terrible thing has come from this snowstorm," I say, and Adam turns to me with a scrunched forehead. "I think you and I are friends now."
He lets out a laugh, and I can't decide if it's amusement or relief.
"Okay, I'm going to get changed and get out of your hair," I say after a solid minute of silence.
"Just wear my sweats. You're going to freeze cleaning off your car in your dress," Adam says and doesn't give me a chance to argue.
He doesn't realize that he may not get any of these clothes back.
***
"There's over a foot of snow on the ground and you still manage to bring in pastries?" Connie asks, plucking a cruller from the box. "Remind me to bring that up in your next evaluation."
"Can do," I say with a smile. "You're in a good mood."
"I needed that day off," Connie says as I follow her to her office. Her dog, Wally, is curled up on his dog bed. She only brings him in on days when she knows the place is going to be near empty. I squat down to pat the dog's head as Connie rattles on about what all she got accomplished around her house yesterday. "And, I shouldn't be happy about it, but today should be quiet since no one wants to get out in this weather. Jamie even took a snow day."
"You're kidding."
Connie shakes her head. "Nope. And, I love my niece, but I am looking forward to not having today planned down to the minute."
"She'll be twice as bad tomorrow in order to catch up," I say but my voice wanes as I see Connie's sketchpad sneaking out of her bag. Just like seeing all the pastries at the bakery, my mouth begins watering at the sight of the sketchpad. What new designs has she drawn in there?
"Evie? You okay? You look like a madwoman."
"Fine." I smile. "With Darlene being out today too, I should help out in alterations. This is a perfect time to get ahead of schedule."
I find myself alone in alterations. It turns out that the only people up for braving the snowy roads are Connie and myself. The shop is empty and quiet. If it wouldn't cause the place to go under, I would love for it to be this way all the time. And, since I'm alone in alterations, I throw niceties aside and tear into the trashcan. We try to conserve as much fabric as we can for future dresses, veils, garters, and various projects (wedding dresses for dolls and cats- I'm not even kidding), but a lot of fabric unfortunately gets trashed. When Darlene and the others are here, I try not to go through the can of fabric scraps. I may, at the most, grab a piece of fabric off the top and keep most of my dignity intact.
But they're not here right now so my dignity can just go off by itself while I all but jump into the trash can like Scrooge McDuck into his swimming pool of money.
Forty-five minutes and a grocery bag full of fabric later, I'm finally working on a dress. It's a fun blush A-line with bell sleeves. Super bohemian and, as far as wedding dresses go, comfortable. That's right, I may have tried it on once, back when I started fooling around with Grant …
Grant! I never texted him back!
… and he never texted or called to be sure that I was okay. Maybe something happened to him?
I dig my phone from the pocket of my dress (I made a point last year to sew pockets into every skirt and dress that I own and it has made all the difference) and pen a message to Grant.
"Sorry, I got snowed in at a friend's. Are you okay?" - sent at 10:42 a.m.
My phone buzzes only a moment later.
"a friends house huh? should i b worried lol" -sent at 10:43 a.m.
If nothing else, his fingers aren't broken. I assume he's fine. A bit pompous, but fine. What does he mean by tacking on a laugh over the question of whether he should be concerned about my so-called friend? He has to know that I'm not sleeping with anyone else. I mean, I've told him that in so many words. Mostly to see if he would admit the same thing. He didn't say that he was sleeping with anyone else but he also didn't say that he wasn't going to start. I don't know. It made sense when he said it.