“Nice to see you, too, Nik,” Adam said dryly, catching himself. No hug, no pleasantries, just pushing off his door and walking deeper into his condo. I followed him, rolling the suitcase I’d managed to get from my apartment after my texting session with Chris. The place was everything an expensive Hollywood Hills bachelor’s pad should be: clinically and minimally furnished, white fixtures, expensive pop art everywhere, and futuristic-looking kitchen appliances I was one hundred percent sure he didn’t know how to use.
“Found the place okay?” he asked disinterestedly, not turning back to look at me. Crap, I’d really done it this time. I couldn’t just fake a smile and hug him, could I? My knee-jerk reactions when it came to this man scared me.
“Sure.”
“Good to know. You weren’t always the best at reading the map,” he jabbed.
Ouch. But also: I totally deserved this.
“Guess I have Waze to thank,” I said sweetly. I wasn’t ready for another battle. I felt weak and battered, furious and confused with Chris. Still, the old Adam ache was quick to sneak back into my heart. Adam did the talking for both of us, giving me a reluctant tour around the house while I wheeled my suitcase over his crème limestone floor.
“Here’s your room. There’s an en-suite. Betsy is somewhere around, ruining a piece of Italian furniture with her claws. She likes company, should be fed twice a day—her food is in the pantry, top shelf—and likes her water bowl refreshed frequently. I’ll be in and out of here. If you need anything, call my assistant.”
Adam didn’t only treat me coldly, he handled me like I was a complete stranger. I mean, I did ice him out and refused to hear him, but then he practically half-assaulted me. He might hadn’t known he did, but that didn’t make it any better.
“Okay,” I said on autopilot, dumping my bag in the guest room. It looked plusher than any space I’d ever inhabited. “I will take care of Betsy. Thanks for…” I motioned around with my hand. “Everything. And sorry for being aggressive earlier. It was uncalled for.”
He jerked his chin in my direction, but said nothing. That’s when I realized Adam taking me in had nothing to do with his fondness toward me. All of it was gone. This favor was all about doing Val a solid. Being unwanted here was a depressing thought.
“Truly.” I took a step toward him, smiling weakly. “Thank you.”
“Bad breakup?” He scoffed.
“Oh, the worst.” I chuckled bitterly. “Seriously, think of the worst possible scenario, then continue going. That’s how bad it was.”
“At least now I know that you can feel.” He smiled bitterly, clutching the fabric of his black shirt.
“Adam…” I winced. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to say. Maybe that I’d felt all along. That that was why I’d pushed him away when I’d just had too much.
Adam beat me to it.
“Just get out as soon as you can, Nika. You are, and always will be, someone I will take care of. But just because I do care doesn’t mean that I should, and it definitely doesn’t mean that you should take advantage of it. Do we understand each other?”
“Crystal clear.” I swallowed, watching his back as he walked away. I finally understood what it felt like for him all those years ago.
Seeing me running away.
I hadn’t realized he felt anything toward me. That this was mutual. That this could have been something.
The temperature dropped, and all I could think about was how nothing had changed. The air was still soaked with electricity when we were together. My fingertips still tingled. I still couldn’t look away from him.
I was still in love with Adam Mackay.
I’d just put my love on pause.
SIX DAYS PASSED before I saw him again.
I was writing on my laptop, perched on his white leather couch when he walked in. It was close to one in the morning, but I’d always been a night owl. Since we hadn’t exchanged phone numbers, our schedules weren’t exactly in sync. I straightened up on the sofa as he breezed inside, not sparing me a look. In the days he was filming in Mexico and I was taking care of Betsy, a half-deaf, fully-blind British Blue, I’d had time to reflect on our lackluster reunion.
Mainly, I realized that I was being a shithead. High on my anger toward Chris and still bitter about never fully recovering from Adam, I’d just acted like a brat, when all Adam had done was do me a huge favor I didn’t deserve.
“Hey there.” I smiled, putting my laptop down on the coffee table and standing up awkwardly. Adam frowned, but didn’t offer me any words. My new, schizophrenic congeniality obviously wasn’t appreciated. He ambled into the kitchen, throwing the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He popped it open and took a long draw, leaning against the stark white countertop and staring like he was contemplating what to do with me.
“So. Um, I’ve been reflecting on our reunion, and perhaps I was a little, okay—a lot—thorny, even after the apology I gave you. I wasn’t in the right headspace when I got here. Plus, I never really thought I’d see you again. I was pretty surprised you agreed to let me stay here.” I stopped, gauging his reaction. His response never came. He took another pull of his beer, watching me with those hooded, dark eyes that made me feel like I was evaporating into smoke.
“Please say something.” I winced. “Anything?”
“Thank you for your apology”—he pointed at me with the hand that held the beer—“however, I do not accept it.”
“What?” I blinked. He put his beer down on the counter
