Always the Last Word (Always the Bridesmaid #4)(8)

"I was going to take doughnuts into work for everyone."

"Really? No ulterior motive?" he asks as he puts together Lola's order without her even having to ask.

"So suspicious," I say with a smile. It fades quickly though. This is a business meeting, after all. "But also correct. Our idiot friends need help. Did you know they're not setting another date for their wedding?"

"Yeah, Carter told me. What's your idea?"

I rub my tongue over my canine tooth. "So, what's good here?"

"Literally everything," Adam says, not caring to make small talk. Beside me, Lola nods in agreement. "What is your idea, Evie?"

"Let's just say that their relationship won't be the only thing on thin ice." 

"If that's your way of saying they should go ice skating, then I'm calling off this whole plan."

Lola has been looking from me to Adam during our entire interaction, and seems to enjoy our exchange. I'm glad someone gets pleasure from my misery.

"What? Your masculinity too fragile to put on ice skates?"

"I will skate figure eights around you," he tells me as someone in the back yells for him. He rubs his neck, obviously stressed and tired, and retreats into the kitchen.

The lady running the register hands Lola her coffee.

"This is going to be fun to watch," Lola says, taking a sip of her drink. "See you kids later."

I know I just officially met her and she was perfectly nice to me, but I kind of hope that Lola burns her tongue a little on her fancy caramel mocha whipped cream concoction.



***



"They're so good for each other," I tell Adam as we waddle toward the rink in ice skates. "I mean, just look at them."

Adam and I lean against the counter of the rink and watch as Rachel and Carter skate around the ice, hand-in-hand. Neither is a particularly strong skater, but they're holding each other up, and that is such a total metaphor for their lives. They are so supportive of each other.

I still can't believe Rachel and Carter went for this idea. It did take some coercing, and I may have promised Rachel that I would make her Halloween costumes for the next two years. I also promised to sit through a documentary about FDR with Carter. Adam and I also had to promise not to speak badly of one another for at least a week, but it's not like Rachel and Carter can hold us to that demand. But it's worth it if it keeps them together. Plus, it gives me an excuse to go ice-skating.

"Do you have any grand plans as to how to keep them together?" Adam asks as he slides onto the ice like a pro.

"Not a one," I say as I join him out on the ice rink. I smile as I hear my skates scrape against the ice. It's been too long since I've been ice-skating. Thankfully, for me, it's just like riding a bicycle, and I only wobble for a moment before I find my center. Adam, I notice, has no trouble on the ice. "How are you this good at skating?"

"I played little league hockey before my family moved to Kentucky," he says. "And I have some friends in Nashville that I play pick-up games with a few times a year."

Huh. I would not have imagined Adam to be a hockey kind of guy. He does have the build for it, though, and obviously the skating talent.

"I still don't get this whole skating deal. Are you sure this is going to work?" he asks as he nods his head in Rachel and Carter's direction.

"Yeah. Ice-skating is way romantic. Have you not noticed all the hand holding in this place? It's like Hands Across America up in here."

Adam snorts. "Just think of all the germs getting passed around."

"You really are the least romantic person in the world. How has your cynical nature not rubbed off on Carter?"

"And you're a romantic? What about Grant?"

I lose my footing for a second. Thankfully, I'm able to catch myself before crashing onto the ice. "What about him?"

"You guys are fooling around. And you'd make it official if he brought it up," Adam says as he spins so that he is facing me while skating backward. "Sounds like a love story for the ages."

I skate around him, more angry at the fact that Rachel told either him or Carter about my current predicament with Grant, down to my exact words, than that Adam is using it against me.

"Fine. But you should know that I'm not in love with the whole setup with Grant. I would much rather have someone who actually wanted to wake up next to me in the morning, rather than just having sex and bolting," I admit, glad to tell the truth to someone. Even if that someone is Adam.



       
         
       
        

"Then why do you keep going back to him?" he asks, and it's not even in a judging and cruel voice. He actually sounds interested and almost as if he cares.

"It's not like there's a line of guys at my door or anything, Adam. And Grant's a good guy. He's just not crazy about commitment. But, you know, I could not be crazy about commitment either. I could just ride this life wild and free. Like Jack Kerouac."

"You do know that he was an alcoholic who died of internal bleeding before the age of fifty, right?"

"I didn't say I was going to live just like him." I glare at Adam, but I end up laughing. He's laughing too.

You know, when Adam is genuinely smiling, he's kind of cute.

We fall into a rhythm, skating next to each other. We're not talking, but it's kind of comfortable. Occasionally, our hands will touch and we'll put a little distance between us, but we end up coming right back next to each other, like we're magnets or something. Then our hands will collide again and we repeat the process.

"Why are you pushing so hard for Carter and Rachel anyway?" Adam asks as a little kid blows past us on the ice.



"Look, I know you were never Team Rachel or anything-"

"I never had anything against Rachel," he interrupts me. "I was against Carter getting in too deep too fast. This was never about Rachel."

"Oh," is all I can think to say. I mean, this does make me hate Adam a little less, but I can't tell him that.

"Yeah," he replies. "Now, why are you for those two dummies?" he asks, pointing a finger at Rachel and Carter who have glopped themselves onto the railing and are slowly making their way back to the front of the rink.

"They started off like a movie romance. Their eyes met across a room. And they went to an all-night diner, where they talked until four in the morning. They watched the sunrise together. All that within seven hours of meeting each other. My parents were married for over twenty years, and they didn't watch one sunrise together."

"You're saying that you want them together because they experienced some sort of movie magic?" A dark eyebrow rises above the rim of Adam's glasses.

"If you can find magic in this world, then you need to hang onto it," I tell him as I turn to skate backward for a moment, faltering a little. I hate that I'm not nearly as graceful as Adam on the ice. "What about you? What stake do you have in this?"

"Carter's my best friend. And he loves your best friend. And I don't want to see him get hurt," Adam says, looking at me with those dark brown eyes. "Simple as that. I don't believe in that movie magic shit." 

"That's very unfortunate for you," I say as I head for the rink exit. "This world needs more believers in that kind of magic. The fireworks and the butterflies … "

"And the leprechauns and the warlocks," Adam snips as he follows me off the ice. "Sorry, Evie. Fairytales aren't really my scene."

I snort. "No wonder Zoe dumped you."

As soon as I say the words, I regret them. I open my mouth to apologize, but the look that Adam shoots me leaves me unable to utter a syllable.

"Let me know how it goes with Grant, Evie." Adam glares at me before walking away.

I know he's angry, and I'm frustrated at myself for saying what I did, but it's really hard to not laugh at a man stalking off in ice skates.

"Is he angry or constipated? It's so hard to tell in ice skates." Rachel points to Adam as she leans over the ice rink's wall. Carter is right behind her.

"I may have said some things to irritate him," I say quietly.

"You just love getting the last word in, don't you?"

"Not as much as he does!" I shout. I debate on walking off, but remember how ridiculous Adam looked. I plop down on a nearby bench and tear off my ice skates.

Looks like we're back to square one.





Chapter Eight



The second time I go in to Betty Jo's Bakery, it's to apologize, and Adam won't even look me in the eye. And I deserve it. I know that. I really do. I told Grant last night that I've been a grade-A jackass and that it would be in his best interest to cut ties with me now before I destroy his reputation. He responded by performing an act that would ruin both of our reputations if word ever spread.

"Hey again," Lola, the woman I spoke to last time, waves at me from a few spots ahead in line. "Back for more sweetness?"

"Something like that," I say, with the taste of my own bitter poison still in my throat. It becomes more palpable the longer that Adam won't look at me. And he knows that I'm here, dammit. He saw me as soon as I walked in, and then immediately disappeared through the swinging doors that lead into the kitchen. He keeps running to and from the back of the bakery. Granted, he is busy but I can't help but think that part of this is to avoid being around me.