It’s so sweet, I almost want to vomit.
She sewed up his hand. He walked all over Manhattan to find her roses. They stayed up all night talking. Then they had their first kiss. It’s like something out of one of those corny chick flicks that Victoria apparently liked. I wanted to roll my eyes. Multiple times.
I know Victoria wanted me to have this book, but I’m not sure how much I can read. It’s painful to hear how happy she used to be, knowing how she ends up. I’ll read it, but no more tonight. I can’t handle it.
My stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl. I was so focused on Victoria’s dinner that I completely forgot to eat myself. Adam told me to help myself to anything in the fridge, but I’m too tired to do any serious cooking. Maybe I’ll make myself a sandwich.
When I get out of my room, I catch Adam coming out of Victoria’s bedroom. His brown hair is mussed and there are slight purple circles under his eyes. He lets out a yawn, but covers his mouth when he sees me standing there.
“Sorry,” he says. “I know yawns are contagious.” “Everything okay with Victoria?”
He nods. “Just getting her into bed. Her routine takes a while, so…” He yawns again. “Sorry. I’m actually more hungry than tired.”
My empty stomach lets out a little roar. “Me too. I’m starving…” He offers me a sleepy smile. “How about some fettuccini alfredo?”
Yum. That sounds amazing. I follow Adam down to the kitchen, but my excitement is somewhat dampened when he pulls two boxes out of the freezer featuring a photograph of a plastic container of fettuccine Alfredo. He shoves one of them into the microwave and hits a button.
He raises an eyebrow at me. “You look disappointed.”
“I thought you were cooking them from scratch,” I admit.
He laughs. “Well, sorry. I used to cook a little, but not much these days.”
I cock my head to the side. “It’s just sort of funny. I mean, you live in this giant house and you’ve got a BMW, but you eat TV dinners. I would
expect you to have a personal chef or something.”
He laughs harder. “You make me sound so bourgeoisie. I’m not like that.” He reaches into one of the cupboards and pulls out a bottle of red wine. In spite of his protests about not being bourgeoisie, the wine looks really expensive. “Want a glass?”
“Sure.” I could use a drink after the day I’ve had. “I’ve always wondered what a thousand-dollar bottle of wine tastes like.”
“Thousand-dollar bottle of wine?”
“Admit it—that’s how much you paid for this. At least.”
Adam holds up the bottle and studies the drawing on the label. “Actually, I have no idea how much we paid. Victoria bought it.”
Of course she did. This is Victoria’s home, after all. She bought the wine, and she probably bought the corkscrew he’s using to open the bottle, and the microwave he’s using to heat our magnificent TV dinners. This woman had very expensive taste.
“It’s okay if you spend a lot of money.” I accept a heaping glass of wine from his hand—I respect that he didn’t fill it up halfway. “I mean, you’re a celebrity. Right?”
He snorts and looks down at his own wine glass. He filled his up to the brim too. “Not really. I wrote a few books that were a little popular.”
“More than a little.”
“Okay. Very. But still. I’m not exactly Hugh Jackman.”
Actually, he’s way better looking than Hugh Jackman. And I was a big Wolverine fan. “I feel bad that I haven’t read any of your books. I’m not much of a reader, to be honest.”
I bite my lip to keep from mentioning I was always a solid C student— and that was in a good year. I dropped out of high school, and although I did eventually get my GED, I never would have considered college, even if it were an option with everything else going on in my life. Adam looks like one of those guys for whom college was a given. And Victoria has an advanced degree.
“I’m glad you haven’t read them,” he says. The microwave dings and he swaps out one box of fettuccini alfredo for the second. “You’re not going to believe me, but I hate it when people start gushing to me about my books.”
“You’re right. I don’t believe it.”
He smiles crookedly. “Fine. I like it sometimes. But I never know if they mean it or if they’re just kissing my ass.”
I lean against the wall of the kitchen and something jabs me in the back. I turn around and notice a large dent in the wall. I run my fingers along it.
“The wall got dented when we were moving the refrigerator in.” Adam drains the rest of the wine in his glass in one swig. “I meant to get it fixed, but…”
He doesn’t have to finish that sentence.
He picks up the bottle of wine and pours himself another heaping glass. He tilts the bottle toward me. “Another?”
I look down at my glass of wine, which I now realize is almost empty. Damn, I finished that quick. I look at the bottle and then at my handsome boss. I’m sorely tempted to say yes. But there’s something about this place that makes me feel like I need to stay sober.
“No, thanks.”
Adam nods and sticks the cork back in the bottle. “This is my last one.” He glances up the stairwell, at his wife’s bedroom door at the top of the stairs. “It’s just been… it’s been rough this year.”
“I can imagine.”
His eyes become cloudy and distant, the same way Victoria’s were when she was gazing out the window. He runs a finger carelessly along the rim of the wine glass. “She was pregnant, you know.”
I suck in a breath. “Victoria?”
He drops his eyes. “It was very early. We hadn’t even told anyone yet.
And obviously, she lost it when she…”
I clasp my hand over my mouth. Jesus Christ, just when I think Adam and Victoria’s story can’t get any sadder, he throws in another little nugget. “I’m so sorry, Adam. That must have been so hard.”
He nods wordlessly. No wonder he looks so defeated. He lost his wife and his unborn child in one swoop.
After all, the only time I’ve ever seen Freddy cry was when he was sitting by my bed moments after the doctors told us I had miscarried our baby. But at least we had each other.
I almost tell Adam all that, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want this to be a competition of tragedies. If it is, he would win. Mine is bad—really
bad—but his is worse. Not only did he lose the baby, but there will never be another one. Even if Victoria could still get pregnant biologically, it’s an ethical gray area. He’ll never be a father now, whereas I still have a chance to move on. Just not with Freddy.
Adam downs about half the second glass of wine in one gulp. “It’s okay,” he says. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
I nod, not sure what else to say.
He manages a tiny smile. “I’m glad you’re here, Sylvia. The truth is, it’s a lot to manage. It’s nice having help. And…” He glances around the vast expanse of space that makes up the living room and kitchen. “And some company.”
“Right, well…” I return his smile. “I’m glad to be able to help.”
We just stare at each other for a moment. When the microwave beeps, I practically jump out of my skin. The truth is, I have no idea how Adam was living all alone in this massive house. It’s so isolated here. If he wasn’t in the room with me, I’d feel terrified. Even with him here, this place gives me the creeps.
“Tell you what,” he says as he carefully pulls the plate from the microwave. “Let’s bring our delicious dinners out to the living room and watch some TV while we eat.”
I nod vigorously. “Well, they are TV dinners.” “My thought exactly.”
So we eat our TV dinners in front of the television. We end up just watching whatever reruns are on network TV, and even though we don’t talk, we laugh at all the same places. But even as we are watching and laughing, my mind wanders.
Did Victoria and Adam sit together on this very couch, watching television while eating TV dinners?
Did Victoria have any inkling of what was about to happen to her?
And how would she feel if she knew another woman was sitting here with her husband right now?
But I don’t have to wonder about that last one. I know the answer.
