I stared at him for one more moment. Then I sat up, leaned in, and kissed him.
Aaaand he didn’t kiss me back.
I think I would have registered this much faster if I hadn’t been buzzed. Sober me would have realized it wasn’t going well. But since I was drunk, I let it go on about three seconds longer than I should have. Just pressing my lips to an unresponsive mouth.
He pushed me gently off him. “Vanessa, no…”
Instant humiliation washed over me. “I’m sorry I don’t know what—”
He shook his head. “It’s—”
I waved him off. “You know what? It’s fine. I wouldn’t kiss me either,” I said, getting up quickly.
He stood and took a step toward me and put a hand out. “That’s not it—”
I couldn’t even look at him. I was so embarrassed. What the hell was I thinking? “You should go. I’ll just see you tomorrow.”
“Vanessa, I think we should talk about this—”
I laughed dryly. “I really don’t want to. I made a mistake. I was just caught up in the moment and I’m drunk—it didn’t mean anything, honestly. I wish I didn’t do it. I’m sorry,” I said, looking him in the eye.
Something flashed on his face.
“Please,” I said. “Just have Becky bring Grace home. Thank you for today and let’s just forget about this.”
“Vanessa—”
“Adrian, go!”
He waited a moment, just looking at me before he set his jaw, walked past me, and left. I closed the door behind him and slid down to the floor, instantly sober—and wishing I weren’t.
CHAPTER 19
10 THINGS GUARANTEED TO
MAKE YOU SAY WTF
ADRIAN
My phone had been deafeningly silent since last night. Nothing from Vanessa. Becky and I had some work stuff to go over so we did that until midnight while I gave Vanessa some time to sober up. Then I had her drop off Grace since Vanessa clearly didn’t want to see me.
It wouldn’t have been right for me to kiss her. I suspected she wasn’t sober enough to know what she was doing. She was too drunk to walk, for God’s sake.
It didn’t mean anything. I wish I didn’t do it.
Was she just upset? Or did she really feel that way?
Maybe both.
Maybe she was upset with me for rejecting her and she meant it. Maybe she was just drunk and did something spontaneous and the whole thing never meant anything at all.
The thought that kissing me was just some foggy-headed, alcohol-induced mistake made me feel physically ill. And now I worried more than anything that instead of me fucking things up and changing our friendship by telling her how I felt, she’d accidentally done it by kissing me for no other reason than she’d had too much to drink.
My stomach was in knots. I couldn’t sleep last night. I wanted to talk to her, but I didn’t even know what to say after what she’d said to me. In the morning before I left for the office, I texted her.
Me: Can we talk later?
She didn’t reply for almost ten minutes. This was eight years in Vanessa time. She always replied immediately. This wasn’t a good sign.
Vanessa: I guess.
Me: Do you still want me to watch Grace tonight?
Another four-minute wait.
Vanessa: You don’t have to.
Me: I want to.
Vanessa: K. Do you want me to get Harry?
I thought this one over. She always watched him for me, but it would be weird if I saw her and we didn’t talk, and I didn’t have time to do it before work. I didn’t want to be rushed, especially considering what we needed to discuss.
Me: I’ll take him to work.
Vanessa: K
That was it. She didn’t say anything else.
Harry was crabbier than usual, like we were sharing our mood. He bit Becky three times by noon. Oddly enough he didn’t bite me, which made me feel like maybe we were on the same team for once. He slept in my lap while I worked at my desk and didn’t even growl at me when I moved him to get up to use the bathroom.
Work dragged. I kept checking my phone to see if Vanessa had messaged me, which she didn’t. I left work early to knock on Vanessa’s door thirty minutes before she’d asked me to come so I could talk to her. I figured if she really regretted kissing me, the best I could hope for was for us to get over any weirdness and stay friends. But I guessed by her silence that the chances of that were probably low.
I felt a gnawing anxiety at the uncertainty of it. A panic at the possibility that this was all over.
I heard her chain rake across the lock, and I braced myself for our first encounter since last night. But when the door opened, it wasn’t Vanessa who answered it. It was…some guy?
He stood in the doorway holding Grace. He was shorter than me but muscular. Shaggy blond hair, tan skin. He was wearing a clunky faux fur jacket that came to his knees. It was open and he had no shirt on. A shark-tooth necklace hung around his neck.
“Hey,” he said. “You must be the babysitter. Come in.” He spoke over his shoulder. “Hey, butterfly, your sitter’s here.”
I was frozen where I stood. Rendered completely mute.
“She just had a bottle,” he said, handing me the baby. “I changed her diaper. She should be good for a bit.”
I let him put Grace in my arms right there, still standing in the doorway.
She was swaddled. It wasn’t Vanessa’s handiwork. The blanket was twisted into some weird intricate knot. He saw me looking at it and he nodded at her. “It’s an old Aboriginal wrapping method. A medicine woman taught me.”
An Aboriginal wrapping—
Who the fuck was this? What the hell was going on?
And then Vanessa came up behind him and the whole thing went from bad to worse.
She took the breath right out of my lungs. Her makeup was done and she wore a fitted burgundy dress and heels. Her hair was down and curled. She was stunning.
She was going-on-a-date stunning.
“Hey, come on in,” she said distractedly, fiddling with an earring she was putting in—or trying to. Her fingers were fumbling. She nodded at the guy. “This is Drake. Drake, Adrian.” She dropped the diamond stud and made an impatient huffing noise as she knelt to pick it up.
“Here, let me help you,” Drake said, putting his hand out.
She handed the earring to him and stood still while he got closer to put it in, tipping her head to the side.
“You look nice, butterfly,” he said, his voice low.
She gave him a flirty sideways smile. “Thanks. So do you.”
Hot, thick jealousy ripped through me. There was something familiar about the way he touched her. Like he’d done it before.
As soon as he was done with her earring, she pivoted to grab a small purse.
“Hey, I know we’re supposed to talk, but can we do it after?” she said to me, putting on her coat. “Drake and I need to get going. We’ll be at Vermilion.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Vermilion? They’re not open on Mondays—”
“He bought out the restaurant.”
He bought out the—
???