We’ve screwed our way through several boxes of condoms, and Adam hasn’t had any difficulty finding satisfaction since that time right here in my office. I’ll never look at this desk again without thinking of Adam pounding away inside me, breaking through his barriers. And me, knowing that I was the one who helped him do it.
The thought warms me and sends tingles to my girly parts.
He texts. He calls. He sneaks in after Clarissa has gone to bed and leaves before she wakes in the morning. Every time he smiles at Clarissa, all the times she grins back at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky just for her, and each time he speaks my name, I get this smooshy feeling in the middle of my chest. And the more it happens, the more I know—I have to stop this.
My flood of words hasn’t ceased since Adam and I—well, since whatever this is happened, and I’m grateful. However, I can’t do this any longer. As much as I enjoy Adam, as much as he makes me feel things I’ve not felt in so long, and even as much as Clarissa seems to love him, the time has come.
My stomach squeezes. I plop back into my seat and lean forward, waiting for this recurring uneasy and sorta queasy feeling to pass.
I lie in his strong arms every night, wondering when it will end. I wake in the mornings with a spiked cannonball weighing heavily in my gut, until it makes me sick enough that I puke trying to relieve the stress of waiting for him to walk away.
Something has to be done because after what Matt and Marcy put me through, I—I can’t go through that kind of pain again.
And Adam? There is no doubt in my mind that this man will obliterate me when he leaves.
And he will leave.
Eventually, they all leave.
SEVENTEEN
My phone vibrates on my desk. I pick it up and swipe my finger across Leigh’s smile at the bottom of my screen.
“Hey. How’s the writing going?”
“Pretty well, actually.”
Leigh squeals. “Yay! Finally. I knew you could do it.”
“Thanks. I appreciate your belief in me. Adam has turned out to be a great muse.” My stomach churns, and I let out a sigh. “But—”
“But?”
“It’s time I cut him loose.”
“What? Why ever would you do that?” Her voice sounds positively horrified.
“I think he’s with me for the wrong reasons, and we’re heading in different directions.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
Oh, jeeze Louise.
I can’t tell her that I’m the first woman with whom Adam’s been able to climax since his injury. It seems—wrong somehow. Personal things like that shouldn’t be blabbed, even to best friends.
If she knew, then she’d understand that Adam has likely only been with me for as long as he has because he’s probably afraid he might not find release with someone else. And of course he’ll stick close—for a while, anyway.
But I don’t want him hanging around until he gets brave enough to try with some other woman. I want a guy to be with me because he can’t stand the idea of life without me.
I flop into my chair. “It means he’s not looking for the same things I should be looking for. He doesn’t have any desire to have a long-term relationship. I’m only a convenient fuck-buddy. And Clarissa is completely enchanted with him. She’ll be heartbroken when he moves on.”
“She’ll be, or you’ll be? And how do you even know he doesn’t want the same things as you? Have you asked?”
I struggle to find the words as I rub the ache at my temples.
A long silence is broken by Leigh’s exasperated sigh. “You haven’t asked him, have you?”
“No. But that would make him feel trapped. I don’t want any man to ever feel trapped. I want to be with someone who wants to be with me because they want to be with me, not because I pushed them into something they don’t really want.”
“Why would he feel trapped by your asking if he wants a real relationship?”
“Look, he’s told me in the past that he doesn’t want kids. I have a kid. And not just any kid. I have one that needs—extra.”
“Sounds like a massive load of shit to me.”
“Well, either way. I have to let him go. I need to find someone who wants the same things I do—a loving, long-term relationship. And I can’t be fucking him while I’m dating other guys and trying to find the man of my dreams, now can I?”
I wait, but the only answer I get is Leigh’s groan of frustration.
Finally, she says, “Look, you know I love you. Whatever you do, I’m behind you one hundred percent. Okay, maybe eighty percent on this one. You know what I mean. But—”