“I don’t know what Meg thinks. She won’t speak to me. And truthfully, I’m tired of her choosing to believe the worst in me all the time.”It was true, and it wasn’t. I was tired of it, but not enough to not be with her. I just didn’t think it was up to me to do anything about it.
Lena slammed the bowl down in front of me. “Men are such idiots,” she proclaimed.
“Huh?” I didn’t understand why she was so worked up. I expected Mom to chastise her, but instead, she nodded, agreeing with my volatile sister.
“They are. I had hoped I’d raised you better than to be an idiot, Adam.” Mom looked incredibly disappointed.
I turned to my dad. “Do you know what they’re talking about?”
Dad shook his head but wisely kept his mouth shut.
“Meg thinks you chose Chelsea over her once already,” Lena began.
“I told her that was bullshit. I already explained why I did what I did. I shouldn’t have to repeat it,” I protested.
Mom and Lena pursed their lips and glared at me in unison. I felt myself shrinking beneath their stares. Jesus, they were scary.
“Do you love her?” Mom asked bluntly.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. There were some things I’d always own up to, and loving Meghan Galloway was one of them.
“She wants you to choose her. She wants you to keep reminding her that she’s the one you want. We’re all a little insecure inside, and you have to make her see that she’s the one you’ve always wanted. The one you’ll always choose,” Lena informed me sagely.
“We all want to be swept off our feet. So go sweep that wonderful woman off her feet,” Mom said with a smile.
“And that will work?” I sounded so small. So scared. And I was. When it came to Meg, I was terrified. Terrified of losing her forever.
Mom put her hand over mine. “Some things are meant to be. And you and Meg are meant to be. I saw that when you were kids.”
“But what if it’s too late? What if she goes back to New York? What if—?”
“And what if the world ends tomorrow?Whatever. Man up, Adam. Go get her,” Lena snapped, clearly losing patience with me.
All three of them looked at me, expectantly.
“All right then.” I got to my feet, my food uneaten. “Uh, should I clean up—?”
“Go!” Mom, Dad, and Lena yelled together.
“Fine. I’m going!” I started for the door, then stopped, turning around to my family. “Thanks.”
Chapter 22
Meghan
I stood in the middle of my bedroom, feeling like I was stuck in quicksand. I couldn’t move, yet I knew I couldn’t stay. I had called Damien that morning to tell him I was planning to come back to New York in a few days.
“So soon?” he had asked.
“I’ve finished doing what I needed to do here,” I told him, trying not to sound as sad as I felt. I thought I’d want to get back to New York, to my life, as quickly as possible.
That had all changed. Now the thought of leaving brought nothing but pain. But I couldn't stay. Not after things had ended with Adam. I couldn’t risk it. I couldn’t put myself through the daily agony of sharing a town with him. Not now that I knew what it felt like to love him so completely.What I felt for Adam as a hormonal teenager paled in comparison to the all-consuming love I felt for him as an adult.
It sucked.
“You don’t sound happy. I thought you loathed the idea of spending time in tiny town America,” Damien prodded. “I’m thinking it has something to do with a certain dimpled man you swore you were going to avoid.”
“I need to get back to my life—”
“Because that minimum wage waitressing gig is a high priority,” Damien threw back at me. “Come on now; it sounded like you had a good thing going on there. You’ve sounded happier than you have in a long time. What gives?”
“Look, you can stay in the apartment until you find something if that’s what’s concerning you,” I said sharply, getting immediately defensive.
Damien let out a low whistle. “Wow, girl, something’s definitely gotten you all worked up. Wanna tell Papa Damien what gives?”
“There’s nothing to tell. It’s just time for me to leave.”
“Okay, fine. But something’s gone down with you. Something big. Something that’s got you running scared. I know you, Meg. I can hear the panic in your voice. But I think you should give yourself some breathing room before making big decisions. This apartment isn’t going anywhere. You can get another shitty job. You said yourself that you've been painting, really painting for the first time in years.”
“Yeah, I have. But I can paint anywhere. It doesn’t have to be here,” I argued.
“Then why haven’t you?”
His question hit home.
Because it spoke to my heart.
And I didn’t want to think with my heart. Not anymore. My heart was a bastard.
“I’ll text you when I’m leaving,” I said, ending the conversation.
“Okay, honey. Take care of yourself, and I’ll talk to you soon.” I hung up with Damien feeling worse than I had before.
“I can paint anywhere,” I said to the room at large. Speaking to myself.
I opened my closet and found the painting I had done the first night back. I hadn’t looked at it since I had done it.
It felt too raw. Too real.
I looked at it now.
It was a mess of watercolors. Sunsets and sunrises all mixed up in a sea of color. And in the middle were black sketches of two people. One girl with hair like fire. One boy with a smile like a sun.
They floated on their backs in the middle of that cacophony of color. Arms outstretched, but their fingers tightly clasped together. Holding on. Never letting go. And their faces were turned toward each other.
Always toward each other.
Because those two people only ever saw each other.
“Ugh!” I groaned, wanting to throw the painting out the window.
But I wouldn’t hide it away. I was tired of pushing things away. Even if they hurt.
I had to get out of the house. I felt as if I were suffocating.
“Mom, I’m heading out for a bit,” I hollered to the back of the house where she and Whitney were making homemade bread. Mom had considerably perked up since Whitney arrived. It seemed my older sister’s presence had healed more than I ever could on my own.
“Okay. Pick up some ice cream. You’ve eaten all of it,” she called back.
I grabbed my keys and the painting of Adam and me and headed to my car. I had no idea why I was bringing it with me, but I didn’t want to leave it behind, so I put it in the trunk and then headed into town.
I didn’t know where I was headed until I pulled up in front of his house. His car wasn’t in the driveway even though it was Saturday. What the hell was I going to do? Hang out on his porch until he came home? I got the painting out of the trunk and made my way up to his porch.
Was I leaving this here for him?
Why? I had made it clear there was no future for us.
But this painting spoke to something inside me that felt otherwise. The two figures in the painting weren’t images of the Adam and Meg from our pasts. They were Adam and Meg right now. I had painted it before we became something else, yet in my heart, it seemed I knew all along where I belonged.