Untimely You (17 page)

Once we’ve thoroughly decorated the space, Yvette pokes her head in. “Good lawd,” she drawls out with big, wide eyes. “I’s nevah seen this room lookin’ so bright. Miss Chrissy gonna go blind and her eyes ain’t even open.”

Damien smirks while I giggle.

“You’s elves bettah get in here and eat dat ham I roasted all day long. It tastes so good,” she tells Damien, “you gonna wanna slap your poppa!”

Adrian laughs. “Will you and Denise join us?”

“Hunny, you know I don’t letta fine meal go to waste,” Yvette says with a flourish of her hand. “You’s elves bettah wash dem dirty hands though ‘fore you start touchin’ my Chrissmus ham.”

I felt out of place as Damien and Adrian exchanged their Christmas gifts in Chrissy’s room, so I opted to curl up in an armchair under a blanket in the living room instead. My fingers run along the ribbon of the present I’d gotten Adrian. I hope he’ll like it. The other gift in my lap is Damien’s. Even though I don’t know him that well, I’d wanted to get him something too.

After some time, Damien comes striding through the living room with a gift sack. “Here. This is for you.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “I thought you didn’t like me. You probably got me something crappy in there, huh?” I tease. “Please don’t tell me it’s like a Brittney Spears autobiography or something. You know I’m a fiction girl.”

He chuckles. “I don’t buy crappy gifts…and I certainly am not into torture.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I got you a gift too then, now that I know you’re not punishing me,” I say with a smile and hand him my present.

He sits on the edge of the couch and opens what I got him. His smile falls, and he grows serious. My heart thunders in my chest. What if he hates it? I frown too.

“Do you like it?” I question. I begin picking at my fingernail nervously.

His lips pull into a boyish grin. “It’s pretty awesome. Thank you, Neesy. Where’d you find it?” He lifts the notebook and thumbs through it. I’d ran into Barnes and Noble on the way over here when I saw the leather bound notebook on a shelf. Edgar Allan Poe’s silhouette had been burned into the leather. As soon as I saw it, I thought of Damien.

“Seems like being an English major and all, you could maybe jot down some cool stuff in there. I’m just glad you like it,” I tell him in relief.

“Open yours.”

I tug the tissue from the bag and pull out a black T-shirt. “No way.”

The words, ‘
I didn’t fall…the floor just needed a hug
’ are emblazoned in pink on the front. It’s perfect.

“I love it!” We both laugh. I’m just pushing it back into the sack when I sense Adrian’s heated stare on me. Sure enough, when I glance up, he’s leaning in the doorway, watching us with a small smile playing at his lips.

“I’m headed to bed. Gonna Skype my girlfriend. See you guys tomorrow,” Damien says as he trots off.

When he’s gone, I look back at Adrian. His brows are pinched together, and I can tell he’s got a million thoughts running rampant inside his head. I’d like to thread my fingers through his thick hair and soothe those thoughts to sleep.

“This is hard,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly. His gaze falls to his feet while his shoulders hunch. “I feel like my heart is being ripped in two. Like a part of it wants to sit right there in the other room with her, holding her hand. Praying for movement and recovery. But the other part…” He takes a step forward and his gaze, now searing, finds mine. “The other part wants to be right here. With you.”

I swallow and rise from the chair to go to him. “There’s no right answer. There’s no—” Tripping over my gift sack, I stumble right over my feet and crash into the coffee table. Somehow, I manage to take the bowl full of decorative rocks down with me to the floor. I’m dazed and hurting when I blink away my confusion.

“Jesus Christ!” Adrian swears as his footsteps thunder toward me.

I try to sit up but have to close my eyes when everything blackens around me. “I’m okay,” I croak out.

“You’re not okay, Crazy. You’re clumsy as shit. Goddammit, you’re bleeding. How do you even make it through life without breaking bones?” He dusts the glass off of me and the next thing I know, I’m airborne as he carries me somewhere.

I giggle and crack open my eyes to peek at him. “Dad tells me I was born with rubber bones like my mom. He used to call me Gumby when I was a kid. That all ended when a boy down the street overheard him. I’d liked to have died from embarrassment when the entire school chanted “Gumby” when I went to school the next day. And to make matters worse, I wore this hideous green jumpsuit my grandma had gotten me for Christmas. I. Was. Gumby.” I shudder at the memory and Adrian laughs.

“I hate to break it to you,” he says with a grin. “There is no ‘was.’ You’re every bit as goofy as you were back then. Green jumpsuit or not. You’re definitely Gumby.”

I stick my tongue out at him as he sets me on the countertop in his bathroom. His smile falls as he takes my arm in his strong hands and turns it to view my elbow, which indeed trickles with blood.

“What are we going to do with you?” he murmurs as he inspects for glass. “I should have bought you elbow pads and kneepads instead of what I got you.”

My dizziness begins to dissipate. “You got me a present?” I question in astonishment.

He looks up at me and grins—the kind of grin that makes your blood rush which isn’t good considering my current predicament. I suppose bleeding out from staring at a completely delicious and hot looking man would be the way to go.

“Of course I got you a present, Crazy.”

“Well go get it, Wacko.”

He smirks at me. “Shower first and get all that glass off of you. Be patient, Gumby.”

The smart man takes several steps back before I can get a swing in on him. “Take it back!”

His chuckles—
oh what a beautiful sound
—echo all the way down the hallway as he goes to fetch the gift.

The shower was warm and invigorating. Once I dried off, I notice he left some Band-Aids out for me. With a towel wrapped around my body and my hair dripping, I stick on a few Band-Aids before hunting for Adrian. I find him sprawled out on the bed wearing a pair of sweatpants and no shirt. His chiseled chest must be my present. And dear God, what a mighty fine present it is. I’m not even opposed to begging for said present on my hands and knees.

“Come here,” he instructs, his voice hoarse. “Sit next to me.”

Smiling, I walk over to the bed and climb on. His eyes skim over my towel that barely covers me before he hands me a small wrapped gift. I take it from him, tearing the paper off quickly. Inside is a book. But not just any book.
Great Expectations.
My heart flops around in my chest. I flip open the cover and read the inscription written in his messy handwriting.

Crazy,

My heart had a hole in it that I’d spent twelve years carving out with a knife of self-hatred, guilt, and grief. But in one look, one touch, one smile, one kiss, you filled that void completely. One day, I swear, I’ll figure out how to process this and give you what you deserve.

Wacko

Tears well in my eyes as I snap the book closed. “Well,” I say in a wobbly voice, “my old copy was pretty ratty. Thank you.” I don’t want to talk about how in one small paragraph, he ripped my heart straight from my chest. Or how I ache every day to fix the broken parts of him. Neither of us know what to do about this situation and it hurts.

“Hey,” he murmurs and takes my hand. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

I force a smile. “I’m just upset because you’re going to laugh at my present.”

He chuckles and retrieves it from the bedside table. “This present?”

Nodding, I swipe a tear when he starts to open it. Once he sees what’s inside, he does laugh. Full-bellied laughter that has me giggling at his response. With a handsome grin that takes a decade off his age, he holds up a new copy of
Great Expectations
.

My cheeks blaze as he opens it to see if I’ve written anything inside.

Wacko,

This book brought you to me once before. I hope whenever you need help finding me again, it’ll do its job. I’ll always be waiting.

Crazy

He’s no longer laughing. In fact, I think he may be angry. His jaw clenches and the muscle in his neck keeps ticking. My heart squeezes in my chest. More tears threaten.

“Neesy,” he says with a groan. “I don’t want to lose this. To lose you. The very fucking idea of you waiting for me has me sick to my stomach. I hate that I…that I…”

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m patient.”

He takes both books and sets them on the table. Then, he swipes all of the wrapping onto the floor. His pained eyes meet mine as he pushes a wet strand of hair from my face.

“That’s the thing, beautiful,” he growls, his eyes flickering to my parted lips. “I’m not.”

H
er heart is broken.

Fucking ripped into shreds.

All because of me.

My head is an entanglement of guilt, excitement, sadness, hope, anger, and happiness. I’m confused at how I’m supposed to navigate this choppy sea I’ve set sail on. If I throw myself one hundred percent into Neesy, I will be turning my back on my wife. My poor Chrissy. And I can’t fucking do that. I just can’t.

But Neesy…

She’s so vibrant and full of life. She makes my heart ache with need. With every smile or laugh, she sends currents of happiness coursing through me. I love being around her. I love kissing and making love to her. I love…

Her.

“Adrian…”

I silence her with a desperate kiss. I’m not sure how to keep her but everything in me begs not to let her go. The fair thing would be to make a choice. If I choose Chrissy, then I should tell Neesy that. But I can’t make a choice when half my heart beats for the woman in front of me and the other half still bleeds for the one down the hall.

“I can’t explain how I feel,” I murmur against her lips. “I just know I need you. I’m empty when you’re not here.”

She stares up at me with hope in her eyes and my body makes a decision for me. My dick strains against the fabric of my sweatpants with the desire to climb inside of her. To be cloaked by her warm existence and bask in the glow that is her.