“Just go,” I said, climbing out of bed and picking up my discarded towel. “Order pizza and I’ll wipe this up.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” I heard his footsteps leave the room.
I wrapped the sheet around me and grabbed the towel. I sopped up the mess on the floor and moved up the wood, sliding the towel under the handles of the drawers. As I wiped the water from the table top, I realized the top drawer was slightly ajar and I opened it to wipe out the water that had surely dripped inside.
The papers on top were wet with angry, large splotches blurring the words in their center. Pulling them out, I saw a small, redwood box.
Even as my hand reached in to pick up the box, a small voice in my head registered that I shouldn’t pick it up. But I was deaf to anything but the rush of blood in my ears as I snapped the lid open.
Cushioned inside the box was a simple gold band, topped with a single small, but quality, diamond. Holding it to the light of the lamp, I was mesmerized by its sparkle and pulled it from its cushion, sliding it over my ring finger before I even knew what I was doing.
Chapter Thirty
When I walked back into the room carrying the delivery menu for Crazy Dough, I’m sure I still wore the same contented smile that I’d seen in the fogged up bathroom mirror. It wasn’t even that it got better every time we were together; it got sweeter and softer, got deeper into my pores, like I’d never be able to pull her out. And because that’s where my brain was at, it was also why I didn’t notice the strange look on her face when I cleared the door.
She was just sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in my sheets, hair rumpled and cheeks still flushed. But it wasn’t the sated, almost tender look that I was used to seeing in her eyes. I was about to ask her what was wrong, when my mouth closed and I narrowed my eyes. It was guilt. She looked guilty as hell. And then her eyes flicked down to her left hand.
The light from the lamp on the bedside table hit the ring, that modest speck of diamond Grandma Coulton had given to me before she’d died. My heart stuttered to a stop, a cold flush covering my skin, and for a second I actually wondered if I was going to pass out.
“Where did you find that?” I croaked out. The icy flush of my skin fanned to heat, making me blink against the sudden swing in my temperature.
Adele fisted her left hand underneath her right and pressed them against the bunched-up sheet covering her breasts. I’d never seen her look so … terrified. She looked terrified.
“I’m so sorry, Nathan. I didn’t think … I didn’t—”
I held up a hand for her to stop, pinching my eyes shut for a few seconds while I tried to collect my thoughts. My gut reaction was to rip it off her finger, clench it in my hand and feel the cold metal against my skin. But I’d never told her a single significant thing about Diana. Not how she died, not the guilt I’d carried on my shoulders since the day she had. And I’d never told Adele that sometimes, even when I was wrapped around her, I was afraid that I’d never love anyone the way I loved Diana.
She stayed quiet, only the sound of her uneven breaths filling my ears.
“I’m not,” I wiped a hand over my mouth and let it stay there while I finally opened my eyes, “I’m not mad, Adele.”
I half meant it. Her ghost-white face helped ease my racing heart a little. She nodded and I walked over toward her, making sure my towel was tightly knotted around my hips.
“Why did you go looking through my stuff?”
Her nostrils flared, and she blinked rapidly, like she was fighting tears. “I don’t know, honestly. I was just happy, Nathan. I was so happy, what happened in the shower and ordering naked pizza in bed and … and we’ve never done that. And you were so happy to see me when I got here,” she paused, looking up at me with giant pleading eyes, and I could see the pulse hammering in her throat. “Weren’t you?”
“Happy?” I repeated, trying very hard not to sound snappish, since her nerves were obviously limiting her vocabulary.
“Yes. You seemed like it, at least. And it felt real, like I was coming home to you. Like we were real. And with what I did today, it just… I don’t know, all bubbled over, and I was cleaning up water and—”
My brain had caught mid-way through her rambling, tripping words. “What did you do today?”
“Oh.” She swallowed, shifting on the bed and hiking the sheets a little higher on her chest. “I did something for us. So we didn’t have to hide as much.”
Suddenly, I needed clothes for this conversation. I reached down to grab my fleece pants, hiking them up my legs, only dropping the towel when I was covered. “Adele, what are you talking about?”