Page 39 of The Love Hoax
He hesitates, then says, “Yeah. All good now.”
I suspect something is going on between him and his father but I hold my tongue. Jeffrey is an adult now and unless he chooses to share, I won’t get involved.
“The popcorn is turning cold,” Adam calls out, cheerfully.
“Mom? Who’s that?”
I pause, unsure of how to broach the topic. “Well, I met someone recently. His name is Adam, and we’ve been spending some time together.” I omit the strange deal we’ve struck.
Jeffrey remains silent for a moment, as if processingthe news. Then he yawns, loudly.
Adam is now standing in the doorway, eyeing me with concern.
I say into the phone, “Honey, why don’t you go back to sleep. We’ll speak again next Sunday or whenever you like. I want to hear all about your studies, when you’re awake. Sorry again for worrying you. Love you.”
I’m about to end the call when I hear my son add, “I’m glad you found someone, Mom.”
Clearly, I’ve sent the wrong message. He seems to think Adam and I are dating, for real. “Actually, I?—”
“You sound happy. Just make sure he treats you right. Because if he doesn’t I’m coming for him.”
My baby is turning into a protective young man. If only I could slide through the phone and give him a big sloppy kiss. My eyes meet Adam’s. “You have nothing to worry about,” I say into the phone. “I’m in very good hands.”
Five minutes after ending the call with my son, I’m seated on the delicious sofa, a giant bowl of popcorn the dividing line between me and Adam. I shoot out a quick text to Caroline saying I’ll call her in the morning.
There’s no point in calling Bill the Bull. The office is closed. Why he’s calling on my time off, on a weekend, is beyond me. And a bit alarming. But there’s nothing to do about it now. I’ll deal with whatever it is in the morning. I drum my fingers on the edge of the bowl.
“Want to talk about it?” Adam asks, fiddling with the remote control. Clearly, he’s picked up on my disquiet.
I consider his offer. We’re supposed to learn everything about each other before Steph and Brad’s wedding. But telling Adam about my earlier panic or about my boys’ lives is too much, too soon. “I’m good. Thanks anyway.”
Before I know it, Adam and I are watchingMonty Python and the Holy Grail, laughing our heads off, all my earlier angst fading away.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Evie
Iwake up on the sofa. Again. Blinking against the sun shining through the blinds, I decide the sofa is my new boyfriend. Warm and embracing, I love it. I stare blankly at the modern, curved light fixtures on the ceiling, wondering if Adam would consider parting with the buttery soft couch.
Clearly, I’m losing my mind. The last day and a half have been somewhat mind-altering. Not only the confusing emotions but keeping track of all the facts I will need to pass the smell test at Steph and Brad’s wedding. Still, if this isGroundhog Day,where each day is a copy of the one before it, I’ll be just fine. It’s been a great time.
The weekend celebration is starting in three days, and other than a handful of memorized stats and the occasional background milestones, Adam remains a stranger. Of course, the reverse is true as well. I have seventy-two hours to catch up on thirty-seven years. Or in hiscase, fifty.
Fifty.
When on Earth did that happen? Just yesterday, I was picking up my toddlers from preschool, listening to their rapid-fire revelations—everything from time machines to Star Wars—from the backseat of our minivan, heading home to make supper for them and my husband.
Now, I’m a divorced empty nester.
If I dwell on it too long, it will take me down a melancholic road I have no intention of revisiting. After Marco left me—in the abominable way he did—I thought my life was over. But my pity party was short-lived. I had two exceptional sons in my care. Drowning myself in self-pity was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Thankfully, it was my salary that had been supporting the family, not Marco’s. With the help of friends and family, I landed on my feet. I’d be lying if I said there are no lingering scars. There are, for sure, but I take pride in how I came out the other side mostly intact.
I shake off the reverie and pick up my phone. 7:23. It’s early. But not too early in New York. Rather than text, I dial Caroline’s phone.
“Where the hell have you been?” Caroline shouts, omitting any form of greeting.
“Hello to you, too.” I’m fully awake now. “Okay, sorry. My phone died, and then it was too late to call you.”
Caroline sighs. “I tried reaching you like eighty-seven times. I thought maybe you fell off a cliff or something.”
