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But I don’t have to stay in this old house. I can find somewhere else to live.
Probably.
Maybe?
There’s got to be somewhere, even if I have to ask Wally and Lorraine Lindenhof if I can live with them.
Adam and Dakota break apart. Dakota gets back in her car. There’s no reason for me to watch Adam watch her drive away. Maybe I do because part of me wants to be Dakota, having Adam sad to see me go.
He turns back to the house before Dakota’s car is out of sight. His eyes lift toward my window, and I let the curtains fall back together. I don’t know if he saw me. I think he might have, which makes everything so much worse. Not only am I the one who ruined what we had—well, with some help from Georgia and Dakota—but now I look like a total creeper.
I have to get out of this house as soon as possible.
I never completely unpacked, so it’s easy to start boxing up the books and other little things I brought with me. I pull my design books from the top built-in shelf where I’d so carefully stacked them only a few weeks ago. The open box they came out of is still in the middle of the room, and I drop the books in it.
There’s a knock at the door before I can pack the next shelf of books. I go still. It’s not even eight a.m., and only one person could be knocking.
“Evie?” Adam calls from outside. “I know you’re in there. Can we talk?”
I glimpse myself in a mirror, and hell-to-the-no, we can’t talk. Mascara rings my eyes, and my unbrushed hair would make a perfect bird’s nest. The reflection before me has all the evidence of a night spent crying andThis Old Housebinge watching myself to sleep.
“Evie, come on. Let me in, please.” The pleading in his voice draws me to the door. “I think you saw something that’s not what you think it is.”
I press my ear to the door in case there’s more, but Adam stays quiet. “What was it then?” I ask through the door. My hand is on the knob, but I’m not ready to let him in.
“It was a goodbye. The kind we should have had six months ago. Maybe six years ago. I don’t know. Can you please let me in?”
A goodbye?
“Hold on.” I let go of the knob, finger-comb my hair and wipe my fingers across my teeth. It’s no good. My teeth feel furry. Then I spot my purse. It’s on the floor by the door, right where I dropped it last night. I rifle through it until I find a couple of mints. I pop them both into my mouth, then open the door.
Adam is hugging himself tight and shivering. The foyer has zero heat, so the entire hallway and staircase is always only about ten degrees warmer than the outside temp. He’s wearing his reindeer sweater, but no jacket.
“Where’s your coat?” I pull him inside, sit him on the couch, and wrap a blanket around him.
“My place. It got wet, so I took it off. I didn’t want to drip on your floor.” His teeth chatter, and his whole body shakes with one big shiver. “I didn’t think it would take so long for you to answer the door.”
“It’s eight a.m.,” I say, as though that explains everything.
He answers with a shrug. “I couldn’t wait.”
I sink into the other side of the couch, rest my arm over the back cushions and press my chin into my hand. “A goodbye? That kiss didn’t look like a goodbye.”
Adam pushes his hair back. “Trust me, it was. That’s why she was here. To apologize and give me a proper goodbye.”
“And you’re okay with that?” My heart picks up speed, like in the first mile of a run. The uncomfortable kind that comes before my body remembers it’s been here before and settles into a smooth rhythm.
“More than okay. It’s the best thing for both of us.” He’s not shivering anymore. His words come out strong and sure.
This is good news. Very good news. News to smile about. “So, you’re not mad at Zach and Georgia anymore?”
His cheeks puff out in a long exhale, and he shakes his head. “At least not for that. I’m still not crazy about what they’re doing with the Little Copenhagen. And I really hate the idea of the show bringing even more people here.”
“So, you’re still mad at me, too?” I drop my arm by my side and press into my corner of the couch.
“About your part in all this?” He rakes both hands through his hair, pulling it back and lifting his chest. His eyes stay on the ceiling as he takes a deep breath. With his exhale, he leans forward and looks into my eyes. “Yes, but I’m really trying not to be. I get that it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, and I understand why you had to keep it from me. But I still hate that you did, and that you used videos of me to make it happen.”
“But you get that a lot of that was miscommunication, right?” I sit up straighter, ready to really explain my side of things. I’ve replayed where I went wrong the first time around, and I’m prepared to do better. “I should have been more careful, but I didn’t do it intentionally.”
