Page 144 of That Moment
By the time I pour the coffee, she’s still talking. Her voice drifts down the hall, that calm, professional tone she uses when she’s in work mode. At first, I don’t think much of it. She gets calls all the damn time from clients, meetings, and some last-minute deal that needs her eyes. But then I catch the wordsLos Angelesandfirm opening.
My hand stills mid-pour. At first, I don’t think anything of it. Adrienne gets work calls all the time. But then I catch the wordsLos Angelesand the coffee pot nearly slips out of my hand.
She’s pacing the hall, voice calm and professional. “Right, that’s what Celeste told me. The reason I wanted to talk though was because I was curious what the role actually entails.”
I freeze, every muscle locked tight. I tell myself it’s nothing. She’s probably just being polite, returning a call. Still, the longer she talks, the heavier the air gets.
“Oh, I see,” she says, pausing a beat. “And what’s the timeline on that?”
The question hits hard. I set the coffee pot down quietly, straining to keep my breathing even. She’s still asking questions, her tone light but interested.
Interested.
I don’t mean to listen, but my mind starts spinning anyway. She turned that job down. Told me she wanted to stay. Told mewewere what she wanted. So why is she still asking about it?
Maybe she’s just checking in for Celeste, passing along information. Maybe she’s curious. Maybe I’m overthinking it.
I grip the counter, jaw tight, reminding myself I promised to trust her.
When she finally says, “Alright, that sounds great, thanks again. Yes, go ahead and send over the details,” something twists in my gut. She hangs up a moment later and walks back toward the kitchen like nothing happened.
“Who was that?” I ask, careful to keep my tone even.
“Someone from LA,” she says easily, slipping her phone into her purse. “Just following up about a position Celeste mentioned.”
“Oh.” I nod, pretending it’s fine, pretending I didn’t just feel the ground shift beneath me. “Everything good?”
“Yeah, all good.” She smiles, leaning up to kiss my cheek. “Now, where’s my coffee, Mr. Sexy Barista?”
“Right here.” I hand her the mug, returning her smile with one of my own.
She takes a sip, humming her approval. “Perfect, as always.”
I grab the keys off the counter, and we both head out together. She’s glowing, light and easy, and I tell myself that’s all that matters. She loves me. I know that.
Still, as I climb into my truck and watch her pull away, that nagging thought won’t quit whispering in the back of my head…What if she’s starting to wonder if she made the right choice staying here with me?
It’s pushing past nine,the radio next to me playing a classic Allen Jackson song. I’ve got the hood up on my old Chevy. It’s my hobby fixer, the one I mess with when my mind won’t let me relax. It’s not really about fixing anything tonight. It’s about keeping my hands busy while my brain won’t shut up.
I’ve replayed that phone call a hundred damn times. Every word. Every tone. Every maybe.
I know what she said, she’s just helping Celeste, but I can’t shake the sound of her voice when she asked those questions. Curious. Hopeful. Like part of her was imagining it again. I tighten a bolt I already tightened twice and drop the wrench onto the workbench.
“Hey, baby.”
I glance over my shoulder just as Adrienne steps through the side door. I was so lost in my own head, I didn’t hear her pull in.
“Hey.” I wipe my hands on a rag. “You just got in?”
“Yeah. The girls wouldn’t stop talking.” She yawns. “I think Brooklyn might have broken a world record most gasps in one night.” She laughs softly, setting her purse down. “I told them about us.”
“Yeah?” I lean back against the car, forcing a smile. “How’d that go?”
“They’re all thrilled.” She steps closer, sliding her arms around my waist. “Though Amelia said if you ever screw it up, she’s got dual citizenship in France, so she will have no problem making you disappear.”
“That’s fair.”
Her nose scrunches when she looks up at me. “You okay? You’ve got that quiet, brooding thing going on.”
