“So, you two are dating?” she asked from the back seat of Adam’s truck, her legs crossed and her lips pursed.
If there weren’t black streams of mascara running down her face like spiders, it would be easy to believe that nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all. That woman on the bridge could have been someone else entirely.
But I knew better. So I played along.
“Yeah — mom, this is my boyfriend Adam,” I said, filled with confidence.
“Hi Mrs. DuPont…” Adam said from the driver’s seat with a hint of shyness that was a few shades lighter than adorable.
“Officer Brady, I had no idea you were dating my son,” she said. But the look in her eyes was unsurprised; she’d suspected this for some time. The way her mind snapped to the next question only confirmed that she’d already known, and thought about it. “How old are you, Officer Brady?”
The mountainous man next to me seemed to sink in his seat a little. “Thirty-two.”
“I see…” she said disapprovingly.
She let that hang in the air, letting what wasn’t said speak louder than what was.
“Mom, I can date whoever I want,” I bemoaned.
But for the rest of the car ride, she continued to poke and prod at me with comments like that one; letting me know that she didn’t approve of me dating Adam at all without actually saying it.
When we finally got to the hospital and she went with the nurses, she turned and said, “I love you so much, Luke. Thank you,” but then her eyes narrowed and she glared at Adam.
I thought she was going to say something, maybe even thank him for driving her to the hospital. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked through the sliding doors herself with the nurses flanking her.
“She looks more like the CEO of the hospital than a patient,” Adam grumbled next to me.
“Sorry she was rude,” I said.
“It’s no big deal, she’ll have to warm up to me sooner or later. A lot of mothers like that just don’t want to lose their son to someone. She probably doesn’t think I’m good enough for you.”
“But you are!” I said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
Privately, I knew that my mother didn’t think anyone would ever be good enough.
* * *
We went back to Adam’s house and I immediately crashed, exhausted from the events of the day. Adam was so amazing that he gave me a back rub, then a foot rub, then we cuddled each other under the covers of his king bed until we both drifted asleep.
Morning light slid across my face and I stirred awake.
Sleepily stretching, I turned over and felt for Adam next to me. All I felt were cold sheets.
I sprang up, alarmed. Slowly, the events from yesterday filled my memory.
Did that really… did that all really happen?
The smell of French Toast promised that Adam was in the kitchen.
Yawning greedily, I got up out of bed and joined him there.
He was looking so hot in an old Metallica T-shirt and pajama pants that hung casually around his thin waist.
As I entered the room, he was in the middle of scraping a piece of french toast out of a pan. He looked up and smiled at me, a bright white smile that made me feel like I was floating. The morning light pouring in from the lake window illuminated everything so that it looked heavenly.
“Breakfast?” he asked, sliding the piece of saturated toast onto a plate.
“I— Adam, you didn’t have to do all this!” I said, but I was delighted nonetheless.
“I wanted to, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing,” he said, waving me off.
I took my seat in one of the barstools tucked into the island and watched him.
Adam was like a conductor in the kitchen, his spatula his baton. With a simple flick of it, he flipped another set of french toast. Then he turned around and whisked some of the batter in a separate bowl, dunking a thick chunk of bread in it.
He was humming to himself.
“What are you singing?” I asked, sipping on some coffee Adam had poured. The tune sounded vaguely familiar.
He looked a little embarrassed and said, “It’s stupid.”
“What? Nothing you could ever do is stupid,” I said.
He balked a little. I could tell he wasn’t used to compliments. And that thought made me a little sad to think about.
“It’s ‘Call Out My Name,’ by The Weeknd,” he admitted.
I cracked up.
“See? I told you it was stupid!” he said, a smile erupting on his face.
“No-no, it’s… it’s fine. I’m laughing because it seems…” I gave him a look from head to toe. He was all muscle and stoicism and manliness wrapped in a sexy package. “It seems a little, er… sensual for you.”
“Is sensual bad?” he asked.
“No! Not at all…” I said, laughing.
For a second I thought I’d offended him, that my words had cracked his stoic shell.
Then he smiled wide and called out, “Alexa, play Call Out My Name!”
Suddenly we were enveloped in the sexy tones as the music filled his kitchen.
My eyes darted around, trying to find the little cylinder, and when I was looking the other direction, Adam wrapped me in a hug from behind.
“What!” I exclaimed as he pulled me off the barstool.
“Dance with me,” he said, twirling me around and grabbing my hand.
“I don’t know how to dance,” I admitted nervously.
“No worries, this is slow, we’ll just make it up,” he encouraged. “Come on…”
And against my better judgment, I was slow dancing with him in the kitchen. The song was silly, slow, and sensual, and for some stupid reason, I started weeping with my head on his shoulder.
He heard me sniffle. “Luke, is everything all right?”
To be honest I couldn’t even put my finger on what was right or wrong in my mind. All I knew was that recently, it had felt like my life was falling apart around me. And
