“Your life is here. With me.”
I knew what Adam was offering. I knew what he wanted from me. I just didn’t know if I could give it to him; if I could let go of the feeling that I was failing at life if I lived here in this small town I had sworn I’d leave behind me.
Mom had finally agreed to let Whitney buy the house. In a complete surprise move, she had barely argued about it when we sat her down to discuss it. The prospect of finishing her days in the house my dad had purchased for them to live in together was greater than her silly pride.
It seemed all the Galloway women were learning to let go of things that only hurt them.
But now that was settled, I felt like an extraneous arm hanging around with no real purpose. Whitney had swooped in and saved the day, and now I was dangling in the wind. The only thing left for me to do was finish up the mural and head back to my pokey apartment in Brooklyn.
The siren song of the Big Apple was not nearly as strong as it used to be. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible for that.
Would it be so bad? Building a life with Adam?
What would I do if it blew up in my face?
And there it was. The real problem. Because I held onto the fear with a tight death grip. He’d hurt me once. Would he hurt me again?
Whitney waved a hand in front of my face. “Hello? Earth to Meghan.”
I blinked, realizing I had been staring into space for an uncomfortably long time. “Oh yeah, sure, that sounds great.”
I gave her a wave and hurried to my car before she could grill me any further.
I headed over to the hospital and made my way to the ward where Mrs. Hamilton was staying. I said good morning to the nurses on duty before going to her room.
She had been unconscious the last five days, so I was surprised to find her sitting up in bed, scooping scrambled eggs into her mouth. The left side of her face was slightly drooped, but it was not nearly as pronounced as it had been the day we discovered her in her backyard. All in all, she looked pretty good.
“Oh, um, sorry,” I stuttered, coming up short when I saw her.
Mrs. Hamilton looked up at me with clear eyes, her lips stretching into a smile. “You must be Meg. Adam said you were coming by to check on me. What a dear girl you are. Now come and have a seat and keep me company while I attempt to force-feed myself.” Her voice had a lovely tone, and I found myself immediately doing as she asked.
“Adam didn’t tell me you were awake,” I said, settling into the uncomfortable chair beside her bed.
“He was just as surprised as you were. I think his jaw hit the floor.” Mrs. Hamilton chuckled, but then she sobered. “I didn’t mean to be such a bother to the two of you.”
I reached out and covered her wrinkled hand with mine. I found myself warming instantly to this stranger whom I had only interacted with while she was unconscious. “You were no bother at all. Adam cares about you very much.”
She sniffed a little. “He’s such a wonderful boy. I wish my Daniel were more like him.” She said her son’s name with a note of bitterness. I didn’t know her, so I didn’t want to pry, and she didn’t elaborate.
I knew that Adam had finally got a hold of Mrs. Hamilton’s son several days ago, but he claimed to be out of town on business. Considering Adam said he hadn’t been able to hold down a job in years, we both knew he was lying. I only hoped he’d do the right thing eventually and come see his mother.
“Adam tells me you’ve been visiting every day. That’s awfully kind of you, Meg. Our boy tells me you’re his friend who has moved back to town. That you’re an artist. I’d love to see some of your work. His eyes absolutely sparkle when he talks about you. After that awful Chelsea, I worried he’d never be happy.” Mrs. Hamilton didn’t waste any time digging for the dirt. I could tell instantly that she was one of those women who knew everything about everyone but wasn’t invasive about it. She seemed to come from a place of concern and love for Adam, and that made my heart swell.
“It sounds like the two of you spent the morning gossiping about me,” I teased good-naturedly, laughing slightly so she knew I wasn’t upset.
Mrs. Hamilton tutted. “I don’t gossip, that’s so low class.”
I smothered my smile. “Of course. I’m sorry to imply you’d do something like that.”
Then it was Mrs. Hamilton’s turn to cackle in delight. “Of course, I gossip! What else is there for an old lady like me to do?”
She was a hoot, and I found myself enjoying her. I knew why Adam had taken such a protective role with her. She was like everyone’s sweet grandma.
“But to answer your question, yes, I’m an artist. I’m actually about to complete the mural in town for the bicentennial. When you’re out of here, Adam will have to take you to see it.”
Mrs. Hamilton pushed her fork through her eggs before putting the lid back on the plate. “Or you could take me. I’d like the artist to explain her work. It would be a thrill.”
“Oh.” I cleared my throat. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town. But if I can, I will.”
Mrs. Hamilton looked at me with shrewd eyes. You’d never know the woman had suffered from a stroke only five days before. “I’m sorry, I thought Adam said you were living here now. I got the impression from him that the two of you—”
“I haven’t made any concrete plans yet. It’s all up in the air,” I interrupted before she could say exactly what I knew she was going to say.
Mrs. Hamilton’s eyes were warm. “He’d be very sad to see you go, not like when that ex-wife of his left.” Her expression made it clear what her thoughts about Chelsea were. No wonder I liked her.
Before I could respond, the doctor came in, and I excused myself with a promise to return that evening.
My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text from Adam.
Meet for breakfast?
I quickly tapped out my reply.
Be there in ten.
When I arrived at the coffee shop that Adam practically lived in, I found him in a booth towards the back, frowning at his phone. Frowning was an understatement. He looked ready to murder someone.
I approached the table and slid into the booth opposite him. He looked up, and his demeanor changed in an instant. He tucked away his phone and took my hands, leaning over the table to kiss me. And I didn’t stop him. Even though everyone could see us.
It both thrilled and terrified me.
“You didn’t tell me Mrs. Hamilton was awake,” I said, settling back down in my seat and taking a long drink of the coffee Adam had already ordered for me.
“I ordered us both the bacon and egg bagel if that’s okay. And sorry, I figured you’d find out for yourself when you went there. I had an early morning conference call with Chelsea’s attorney,” he said with a grimace.
There was a lot to unload in that quickfire statement. So I started with the easiest part. “I can order my own food, Adam. I’m not five.” Adam had definite alpha tendencies. Sometimes it didn’t bother me, like when he was pulling my hair and ordering me to hold onto the headboard, but there were other times it grated. My ingrained feminism didn’t want him thinking he could take care of me.
Even if the girly part of me loved every second of it.