It felt like I should be getting changed too. Getting ready to go to bed with her. The feeling was so casual and natural I almost had to remind myself that I didn’t live here—even if it felt like I did.
I wondered what it would be like to be with her in the middle of the night. To sleep next to her, even if we never touched. Waking up with Grace to let Vanessa sleep, hearing Vanessa softly breathing and being able to see her as I opened my eyes, tuck a blanket around her. Know that she and Grace were safe and protected because I would never let anything happen to them…
Those late hours were forbidden to me. They were as forbidden to me as kissing her. And I wanted them. I wanted the privilege of them.
I was starting to feel a building desperation. Like I knew in my soul we were supposed to be more than this and I didn’t know how to make her know it too.
The longing was beginning to feel all consuming. And it was only going to get worse, because every day I spent with her it already did.
I laid Grace down in her crib and Vanessa came up beside me and sighed quietly. “You know, most people who see a train wreck a mile ahead have the sense to get off the train,” she said tiredly. “Not you. Now you have a Price for a client.”
“I don’t mind helping,” I said, straightening and turning to her.
She peered up at me. “I wish there was something I could do to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“I like doing things for you.”
Her face went a little soft. “Because you’re a fixer. It’s your way of being in control. But you know, not everything can be fixed. You can’t always make everything better, Adrian.”
When I didn’t reply, she changed the subject. “How was she? When you saw her. Was Annabel okay?”
I crossed my arms. “Disoriented. A little scared maybe. But she’ll be fine.”
She shook her head. “Will she? What if this wasn’t the wake-up call we’re hoping it is? What if being shot isn’t actually her rock bottom?”
“There’s nothing you can do to get her there. Just take care of Grace and focus on you.”
She bit her lip and paused for a long moment. “I saw the adoption attorney yesterday morning.”
I smiled. “Oh yeah? What did she say?”
She looked away from me. “She said if I can get Annabel to sign over her rights, I could have Grace placed with a family in the next few months.”
This news hit me like a slug to the chest.
“What?” I breathed. “I thought you were adopting her.”
She shook her head and turned back to me. “Adrian, I might not be around in a year.” Her chin quivered again. “I can’t be her mommy.” She choked on the last word.
I looked down at Grace and felt an ache in my heart that I had no right feeling.
When my eyes came back to Vanessa’s, they were anguished. “Adrian, I have to give her the best chance at stability. I hope Annabel gets clean. I hope she stays clean. But if she can’t…my life isn’t conducive to motherhood. Especially single motherhood. I have to do what’s best for her.”
I never thought about what being a parent might mean for Vanessa’s career. She’d have to get back to the road eventually. I knew what she was doing wasn’t sustainable, and it wasn’t realistic to drag an infant all over the globe while Vanessa made videos. It was hard enough taking the baby to the store. I couldn’t imagine putting Grace on international flights and trying to keep her on a routine while Vanessa traveled. But give her up?
I dragged a hand down my mouth.
What could I even say? I wasn’t a member of the family. I wasn’t Grace’s dad. I wasn’t even Vanessa’s boyfriend. I was just the neighbor—some guy she’d met a few weeks ago who babysat sometimes. This was none of my business.
So why did it feel like something was being taken from me without my permission?
She wiped at the tears on her face and I saw the switch coming. The effort to redirect and think or do something that didn’t make her sad.
Looking away from the sun.
“Hey,” she said. “What do you think of a sleepover?”
I drew my brows down. “What?”
“Here. Tonight. My sofa has a pullout bed. It could be fun. We could stay up late watching The Office and do mud masks.”
I almost had to laugh at the irony.
I shook my head. “I wish I could. But that really wouldn’t be appropriate.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Right.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I get it.”
We stood there a moment, a weird heaviness between us. It lingered like steam from a shower.
I didn’t want to go home. But being in her apartment with the lights dimmed and her barefoot and braless and asking me to stay the night was dangerous ground.
I was keenly aware of the potential to get hurt here. I knew I was falling for a woman who didn’t want to be pursued. And continuing to put myself in intimate situations that made me wish she did wasn’t good for me. But at the same time, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to miss anything. She made me never want to close my eyes around her. I didn’t even want to blink. I realized it at my office and on that ladder yesterday, her perfume dancing around me like lightning bugs flickering in the summer. I realized it laughing with her after her robe malfunction and sitting there next to her at her dad’s where I could feel her there like a raging bonfire, she was so warm.
She looked up at me with those big, vulnerable brown eyes and I thought again about kissing her. A part of me wanted to say fuck it and just do it, take the risk, break the rules, forget about the consequences, the possibility of losing her, and just lean in.
I let my gaze fall to her mouth. Her lips looked soft and warm. I could imagine running my hands up her shirt, around her waist, pulling her into me. I wanted to put my nose into her neck, rake fingers in her hair, taste her mouth. I wanted her to touch me.
I stared for only a second before looking anywhere but at her.
She had no idea the power she had over me—and I don’t think even I realized it until tonight. It was almost comical, Gerald declaring they had a lawyer in the family—because they did. I’d do anything she needed. She’d wrapped me around her little finger without even trying.
I’d had clients go to prison for doing something stupid at the behest of some woman and I always shook my head at their gullibility. But now I understood it. I had a feeling Vanessa could call me and ask me to help her move a body and I’d show up five minutes later with rubber gloves and bleach.
I cleared my throat. “I should go.”
I grabbed my jacket and let myself out before I said, or worse, did, something stupid.
At midnight I lay in my own bed, a foot away from where she was probably lying in hers. It was officially her birthday. I sent her a text I’d had ready all day. A picture of a salted caramel Nadia Cakes torte that I’d gotten her with a candle in it and a text that read “Hey girl, you up?”
I heard her laugh through the wall.
She texted me, “Fuck yeah, I’m up. Come over.”
I sat up and stared at the plaster and brick between us. I wanted to come over. I wanted her to really want me to. And not for a sleepover either.