That was one of his favorite things about her, in fact. When he screwed up, she told him about it.
“And this is what she wants,” Adrian added.
Tom lifted his eyebrows, unimpressed with that response, and clapped Adrian soundly on the shoulder.
“I’m sure you’ll eventually manage to solve the issue of the pretty girl who hangs on your every word and also pays you a lot of money. Which you somehow see as a big problem in your life.”
“Thanks for your support,” Adrian said dourly.
“Since I’m about to lose my job, I can’t help wishing God would send some of these battlesmyway, not just to his handsomest soldier,” his roommate said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.
“Is the restaurant really going to close?”
“Yeah, you see this place?” Tom gestured at the empty kitchen. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“Ah, shit,” Adrian said. He was worried about not only his roommate’s financial situation if he lost his job but also his own: that removed any safety net if he did stop taking Caroline’s money. He gritted his teeth. It shouldn’t be up to Caroline and Tom to salvage his life. This was all on him.
“I’ll call my old gallery,” he promised. He’d go crawling back. Make whatever apologies were necessary. A wash of relief swept over him as he voiced the decision. Betterto make a choice that hurt his pride than one that would slowly erode his claim to integrity. “That’s the fastest way out of this. Just do what I was doing at twenty-six. I’ll try to get in a position to cover the rent as soon as I can.”
Tom let out a deep breath, looking reassured. “Thanks. I mean it, actually.”
Adrian grabbed the evening’s leftover hors d’oeuvres out of the fridge and went back into the main room. Caroline’s head was pillowed on her forearm, and the screen on her laptop had gone black. As Adrian approached, he saw she’d fallen asleep.
As quietly as he could, he cleared the dishes from the table and returned them to the kitchen. He closed her laptop and placed it in her backpack, then slid everything else into her purse. He put a hand between her shoulder blades, barely able to feel her back through the layers of coat and sweatshirt.
“Caroline,” he called softly. She didn’t stir. “Sweetheart, the restaurant’s closing.”
She woke up with a sharp intake of breath, blinking at him groggily until she recognized him.
“Did you drive?” he prodded her.
She nodded, yawning and rubbing her face. “Just give me a minute,” she slurred. “It was a long day.”
“I’ll drive you home,” he offered. He could walk back.
“D’you know how to drive my car?” she asked with sleepy suspicion.
“I grew up in the suburbs. My mom had a Honda Odyssey.”
She gave him a small smile, as though picturing it. “Okay.”
Caroline had managed to find a spot on the street outside the restaurant, so she passed him the keys at thedoor and climbed into the passenger side. She immediately slumped in her seat, mumbling her address for him to put into his phone. He knew the area, but it was farther from the university than he would have thought. He had to clear half an inch of sleet off the windshield, and he was glad Caroline wouldn’t have to drive in it. When she’d zipped up her coat to her chin and settled in against the window, he cranked the heater and pulled into the street.
Her radio was off, so there was only the hiss of the sleet and the percussive sounds of the windshield wipers to fill the silence as he drove her home. Caroline didn’t speak, but her light breathing suggested she was still awake. He didn’t speak either, enjoying the quiet ordinariness of the evening. As he turned through the empty streets, everything else felt very far away. The years and experiences that stood between them seemed like very flimsy barriers.
Adrian stopped at a red light for the trolley to cross. Caroline rolled over in her seat so her knees pointed his direction. Her hands were wrapped around the seat belt as she considered him. He kept his eyes on the stoplight, because he felt her gaze on his profile like a physical touch.
“Adrian, this is okay, isn’t it?” she asked unexpectedly.
“What do you mean?”
“This. Tonight. I mean, it’s not the opera, or... any of the other stuff you like.”
“I thought the point was that you thoughtyoumight like the opera,” he pointed out.
“The opera’s okay. It’s not as good as other kinds of musicals.”
Adrian easily dodged that hook and waited.
