Page 6 of Not You Again
It wasn’t that Carly thought Adam should necessarily take Shireen back, but she’d watched him go from heartbroken to heart of stone in a matter of loops. Maybe she’d been right in telling him to leave her alone the day of her dad’s first funeral because, as it turned out, Adam wasn’t a particularly nice guy. While his ex had tried to find some kind of reconciliation—first with their marriage, and then a possible friendship—Adam shut her down repeatedly. And 238 times later, he still didn’t seem to have shifted whatsoever on his point of view that Shireen was someone he couldn’t so much as exchange a pleasantry with.
Not to mention the handful of opportunities where Carly had seen him in the loop, the man either ignored her or went out of his way to pretend she wasn’t there. It was as if thepolite, water bottle pushing guy she’d initially met had been replaced with a grumpy one. He never gave a friendly smile or waved hello. He just acted like she didn’t exist.
So she very much understood why Shireen might be unhappy in their marriage. Carly would be, too, if she were married to Adam Rhodes, Director of Rhodes Funeral Home and purveyor of effortless frowns.
Once they were both gone, Carly would leave, too. She was a guest in the funeral home, after all, and she figured it was best to let them have their moment. It was also the only guaranteed way to avoid them.
“Shireen,” Adam called out. Carly couldn’t quite imagine the person who’d once pretended to inspect the leaves of a fiddleleaf fig to avoid talking to her would ever want human connection. Either way, his plea caused the flip-flops to stop before they made an exit.
Carly held her breath, like a kid overhearing a fight between their parents. She didn’t want to be caught, because she was desperate to hear the details of something she just barely understood. This is what also made Carly a terrible human: her love of gossip.
“Yes?” Shireen asked, maybe a tinge of hope lacing through her words.
Which is why Carly knew with unfortunate clarity that Adam would take the opportunity to knock her down.
“Say hi to Dean for me!” Adam said.
Carly could almost feel a fake smile plastered across his face.
To her delight, Shireen simply said, “Fuck off, Adam.”
“Yeah, good for you,” Carly said. Out loud.Whoops.
She held her breath. Maybe they didn’t hear?
There was a pause—too long of a pause—and then Shireen said, “I knew I liked that girl.”
Carly’s eyes went wide. Wasshethat girl? She slumped down into the plastic seat and wondered if she had the ability to melt into the floor. They were in a time loop, after all; stranger things had happened.
There were footsteps, a door opening and closing and finally, the silence that told Carly she was alone. She let out a very relieved breath. “See you tomorrow,” she told her dad.
As with every loop, leaving this room was Carly’s main goal. As long as she could spend the next thirteen hours and change doing everythingnotto think of Bruce, she might be able to forget how she’d treated him at the end.
Carly came to the hallway, a nondescript, low-lit area straight from the pages of Anywhere Bland USA Magazine. As Carly headed toward the exit, she paused. Was there an acorn painted on the wall? Had that always been there? She approached and, sure enough, there it was. She traced the outline of the acorn with her finger.Who the hell would paint an optical illusion acorn onto a funeral home hallway?
“Can I help you?” a sharp voice asked.
Carly pulled her finger away, as if his words had burned her. Adam stood at the opposite end of the narrow hall, with his fiery mop of hair and strong jawline. She’d often wondered if she could hang off the tops of those cheekbones and swing, as if from a monkey bar. But judging by the daggers Adam shot from his dark brown eyes, this was neither the time nor the place to get distracted by bone structure.
She swallowed. “No, sorry, I...” What had she been doing? “There are acorns in the walls.”
“Acorns in the walls?” He somehow made every word a question.
“Onthe walls, like painted on them? Haven’t you noticed?” She was suddenly very warm, an ant under a magnifying glass.
Adam’s eyes flicked to the wall, then back to her.
“Never mind.” She tugged on the hem of her dress. His eyes followed her hands, and then he cleared his throat. That pointed sound almost seemed to ask what the hell she was still doing there. She should just go, really. So she turned toward the door to do exactly that.
Only, much like the optical illusion acorns, there seemed to be something hidinginhis hooded eyes. Carly had a lot of big feelings. She sort of gravitated toward them, actually. If she saw someone else crying, she cried. If she heard laughter, she was more prone to it, too. She was a feelings sponge, and at that moment her pores were soaking up some serious vibes that Adam was searching for a friend. Maybe Adam was so rude all the time because he needed to talk. After all, he’d attempted kindness with her once before, so didn’t she owe him? Helping Adam could be her good deed for the day! A way to make amends!
Without being able to stop herself, she turned back and locked eyes with him. She faltered only for a moment because, well, staring at him was like looking at the sun—an otherworldly thing with that flaming red hair. But she managed to ask, “Are you okay?”
Adam glared at her, as if she’d just suggested riding a bicycle over his pretty leather loafers. Maybe she should first apologize.
“Sorry that I chimed in earlier...” she started. “With Shireen.”
Adam crossed his arms and his lean biceps strained against the blazer. He didn’t say a fucking word, but he almost didn’t have to. Carly intuited that he was pissed off from his tight posture and those pointy cheekbones threatening to cut her if she took a step closer.
