‘Yes, I think so.’
‘And…?’
He paused. ‘But I feltsomething. It wasn’t a memory, nothing concrete like that. But I did what you said and I really focused on the song, the lyrics, and everything as I played. And I felt – melancholy.’ He nodded. ‘Yes that’s probably the best way to describe it. I felt as though I had a hole in the centre of me that I desperately wanted to fill with happiness and joy, but…’ He broke off. ‘You’re going to think this sounds stupid.’
‘Try me.’
He swallowed. ‘I felt sad, empty, but a little bit hopeful. As though this was the way I’d felt before. Not how I feel now. Does that make any sense at all?’
I nodded encouragingly. ‘That’s great Adam.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I do.’ The truth was I wasn’t sure, but it did feel like a breakthrough, however small.
‘So what do you think it means?’
‘Perhaps something in there’ – I jabbed my temple – ‘is starting to dislodge. Perhaps those memories that have been locked away since your accident are in the very early stages of revealing themselves.’ I shrugged. ‘At least that’s the hope. And if not, at the very least you might be forming new memories, starting from now.’
‘Right. So what do we do now?’
‘Now, we just keep trying.’
He studied me for a moment, his gaze drawing me in until I couldn’t look at anything else in the room. Thoughts of Greg, of music, of Mum, Johnny, Dad, of trying to be professional – all of it drifted away through the slightly-open window, leaving behind nothing but this moment, right here, right now.
I heard the slow scrape of a chair across the floor, and I held my breath as Adam stood and walked round the desk towards me. I couldn’t move, my whole body coiled like a spring, and I sat, hands in fists, waiting for him to approach. The air was so thick with tension I could barely breathe as he crouched down beside me and slowly, achingly, reached out a hand until it touched my fingers. I sprang back, a jolt of desire bursting through me as he gently lifted my chin with his other hand, until I was forced to look right at him. He was scrutinising me, as if trying to work something out, and I was on fire, my whole body shot through with desire from my head to my toes.
He moved forward, inch by agonising inch, his fingers now stroking my cheek. His mouth was so close I could feel his warm breath on my face and I felt like I might melt from the inside. His lips brushed my mouth and I let out a groan, pressing myself into him, responding hungrily as he deepened the kiss, his tongue searching out mine. The taste of him was so unfamiliar, and yet the feel of his lips was so right, and for a few, suspenseful seconds I could feel the intensity of all the years we’d been apart pressing down on me as if nothing else mattered but this moment: us, together, his hand running down my neck, to my shoulder and down towards my chest…
I sprang back, my breath coming in gasps.
‘I can’t do this.’
He didn’t respond, but moved away slightly so the gap between us expanded, the space dense with longing. I gulped in air and tried not to look at him.
‘I’m sorry Erin.’ His voice was rough, scratchy. ‘I know that was wrong, but I just – I couldn’t help it.’ His hands were trembling and he shoved them into his pockets. ‘I just – you deserve better.’
‘Better?’ My throat was like needles and I swallowed.
‘Better than Greg. Better than being let down.’ He stopped. ‘I don’t know what I was trying to do. It just felt right at the time. I’m sorry.’
I shook my head, my heart rate starting to slow. ‘Me too.’
‘Can we…’ He looked at his feet. ‘Can we still do this again? The music thing, I mean.’ His face turned pink. ‘I really need this to work.’
‘I honestly don’t know. You’ll have to give me some time to think.’
He nodded. ‘Sure.’ Then he stood up and walked back to the other side of the desk, picked up his guitar and left without looking back.
Never let Adam go.
Never settle for second best, Erin. You’ll always regret it.
Always follow your heart.
Your mother would have left me in a heartbeat if Johnny had ever come back on the scene.
There was one thing Michael wasn’t. He wasn’t Johnny.
