Rebounding quickly was my coping mechanism. I recovered in record time from devastation. I was a glass-half-full optimist. An inherently positive person. It was my thing. I lived life to the fullest, lived every day like it was my last.
But today? Today took something from me. And the weird thing was I think it had more to do with Adrian than anything else.
I was used to Annabel’s instability and Dad’s and Brent’s bullshit. I was even used to the idea that I’d be dead by thirty. But I wasn’t used to this.
Him.
Adrian was one of those milestones I’d never reach. Maybe not him exactly. He was uninterested and unavailable. But the idea of him. A man I could fall in love with.
I’d never have a husband. I’d never have a family of my own. Hell, I’d never even have a boyfriend again.
ALS took this from me, like it had taken so many other things. It was more than just a thief of life. It stole hope. Dignity. Dreams. And it would take until there was nothing left.
Not even me.
My breath came out shaky. “For someone who’s never washed a baby before, you did it right,” I said, trying to push down the dark feeling I got being so close to him.
“I had to call my mom. I didn’t even know where to begin.”
I laughed again, but it didn’t reach my eyes.
He poured a final cup of water over Grace’s shoulders, and I lifted her out with the towel.
He pulled the plug out of the drain as I snuggled my wet baby, kissing her cheek. A surge of protectiveness washed over me. Because for all intents and purposes, right now she really was my baby.
Kids had never been in my plan. I’d had my tubes tied a few years ago. Since they didn’t know what gene caused ALS in my family, I couldn’t do selective IVF to rule it out. And while I was very glad I’d been born, even with my risks, and many people in my situation chose to have children anyway, I refused to play gene Russian roulette with my own kids on principle.
I wouldn’t give ALS one more victim. It had taken enough from the Price family. I didn’t need to lay another possible sacrifice at its feet.
There were other options. An egg donor or adoption. But I’d never considered those because I couldn’t be sure I’d be there to raise a child. And that was the same situation I was facing now. I couldn’t raise Grace either.
Even if I wanted to.
I wanted to believe that everything would be okay. That Annabel would get clean, like she got clean once before. That she’d come back for her daughter. But I didn’t have time for faith. Not anymore. I couldn’t afford to bet on this and lose.
I needed a long-term plan for this little girl, and I needed to execute it now, while I still could.
“Do you know of a good lawyer who specializes in adoptions?” I asked.
Adrian leaned on the kitchen counter, drying his hands on a towel. “I know someone. Are you thinking of adopting her?”
I couldn’t tell him the truth. He didn’t need to know it. I didn’t even want to know it, that I was going to have to give her up, find her a different family. The pain in my heart bubbled up and I swallowed it. “I just think she needs stability, you know?”
“Will your sister sign over her rights?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Adrian dropped the towel on the counter. “If she won’t sign over her rights, you could always throw money at it. Offer her an incentive. That usually works.” He crossed his arms. “Did you get everything straightened out with your family?”
I let out a long breath. “Sort of. Annabel crashed the car. Stole it, so good news, you didn’t perjure yourself to the police. She stole my dad’s phone and money and my mom’s wedding rin—” I choked on the last word. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t see it coming and I couldn’t hold it back. I bit my lip and turned for the living room. “I’m sorry,” I managed. “It’s still setting in.”
I had a rule. I didn’t dwell on things. It wasn’t allowed, no matter what it was. Life was too short. But this one hurt.
Mom’s ring was one of the few family heirlooms I cared about. I had so little of my mother left.
And now that was gone too.
“Did you file a police report?” he asked from behind me.
I nodded, laying Grace down on the sofa to put a diaper on her. I swallowed hard before speaking. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. “I did, but the diamond is small. The whole thing comes to less than a thousand dollars. They won’t look very hard. It’s got a kismet inscription, so I guess it’s not totally impossible, but they’ll probably never find it.” I sniffed. “It is what it is. It’s fine. It was just sentimental is all.”
He came up behind me and handed me the little outfit he had picked for Grace. I took it without looking at him.
“Did you lose your mom?”
I nodded. “Yes. When I was six. Car accident.” I slipped the pajamas over Grace’s head.
“Your sister’s nine years younger than you. A half sister?”
“With my dad’s second wife. That’s Brent’s mom too.”
“And where is she?”
I finished buttoning the outfit and picked up Grace. “As far away from us as humanly possible. And I don’t even blame her,” I mumbled. I turned to him and wiped at my eyes. “I’m sorry I took so much of your day. Thanks for watching her. I’ll be out of your hair in a minute.”
“Do you want to join me for dinner?”
The question took me so by surprise I had to stop and stare at him. He was sitting on a chair. He had his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, gazing at me.
“You want to have dinner with me?” I asked, blinking at him.
“Yes.”
“You’re not sick of my shit yet? Or her shit?” I nodded at Grace.
He chuckled. “No, I am not.”
He wasn’t hitting on me. This was totally platonic. But I liked him and letting myself spend more time with someone I could develop feelings for wasn’t in my best interest—or his. He had no idea what he was getting himself into. My life was like a warehouse with one of those THIS MANY DAYS SINCE THE LAST ACCIDENT signs, and the number was always at zero.
I licked my lips. “Getting close to somebody right now isn’t a good idea for me.”
“Why?” he asked.
I let out a sigh. “Adrian, my life is a mess. It’s a mess. You have no idea. My whole world is like a muddy hill of shit, and if you get too close, you’ll be sliding down it with me.”
“Because you have family problems? There’s no such thing as a perfect family. There are just families that do better PR than yours.”
The corner of my lip twitched.
“I like hanging out with you,” he said. “And I need to watch more of The Office. I’m still not hitting on you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Well, at least there was that. God.
My fucking life. Imagine the hot, smart, incredible guy not hitting on you being the preferred scenario.
“I’ll make lamb shanks,” he said.
I wrinkled my forehead. “I thought you said you don’t cook.”
“I may have misstated that a bit. I don’t like to cook just for myself. It’s not worth it. But I do very much enjoy cooking for someone else. Especially someone who will appreciate it.”