“It’s okay. Everyone has their drinks already. Maybe see if they need refills before we sit down?” Adam says as he heads back to the grill.
“Oh, yes, right. Can I get yours? What did you have? A beer?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I have my iced tea right there. Cailin will take milk or water. You can get that for her, if you want.”
I move quickly to the refrigerator, pausing for a second so I can breathe behind the open door before I grab the milk when Linda comes to my side.
“Don’t be so nervous. He gets that from everyone everywhere he goes. He invited you here to get to know you, so try to get to know him as a person, not as what everyone else knows him as.”
I sigh, dropping my shoulders as I set the milk on the counter. “I’m sorry. I’m really trying. It’s just … it’s Adam Jacobson.”
I want to tell her it’s so much more than just him. It’s everything. My life. His life. I was trying to be him, yet here I am, years later, standing in his house. Everything that was thrown away in the blink of an eye, that I tried to bury years ago, is rising up, deep in my soul. All of what could have been flashes through my mind.
Add in how attracted I am to him, and I’m a jumbled mess.
She lets out a bark of a laugh. “I know. And you should treat him like just Adam and nothing more.”
“How long have you known him?” I feel brave enough to ask as I pour the milk.
She pats my arm. “Long enough, dear. Long enough.”
“Chow’s on!” Adam yells, and we head outside after I place the carton back in the fridge.
Cailin comes running up from the swing set with Wayne and climbs up to the seat next to Adam. He dishes her some potato salad while she whines about not liking it. Watching the interaction between them brings my nerves down a notch.
I hold up my plate, hoping if Cailin sees me wanting some that it will help. “Potato salad is my favorite. Have you tried it, Cailin?”
She crosses her arms in protest. “No, but I was there when he made it today, and it smelled awful!”
“That’s just the egg. You like eggs, right?”
She glares at me. “Eggs donotsmell like that.”
“When you dye Easter eggs, they do. Will you not dye Easter eggs because of the smell?”
She turns to her dad. “I don’t remember them smelling when we dyed them last time.”
He taps her nose with his finger. “That’s because I cooled them down, getting rid of the smell before we did.”
She purses her little lips together in thought. “Fine. I’ll eat it, but next time you make this, I get to dye the eggs first. Deal?”
We all chuckle at her offer.
“Deal,” Adam says with a nod to his head and a scoop on her plate before placing some on mine.
Our eyes meet, and I don’t see the rock star anymore. I see normal. I see the man, the dad he’s trying to be.
By the end of our dinner, I feel even more comfortable, sitting here with them. Linda shares stories of Cailin that have me laughing so hard that my sides hurt.
“You know I love the way you guys make up lyrics, but this new one had other moms glaring at me at the park the other day.” Linda eyes Adam, and he laughs out loud, clapping his hands together.
“Oh, come on. That’s the best one,” he says, still laughing.
“I haven’t heard this one,” I say, wanting in on the little joke they have going on.
“Ready, Cailin?” Adam asks.
Adam stands, and Cailin’s quick to join him. He holds out his hands in front of him and pretends to play the saxophone, even making the noises with his mouth to a tune I recognize but can’t quite put my finger on until they both sing, “Now, I can see your butt crack!”
