“Umm,” I hesitate, swiping a finger on the edge of the counter. “I might have told her I knew how to do it.”
“God.” He drags a palm over his mouth. “You are so your brother’s sister.”
“She looked down. Has a lot on her plate. I just wanted to cheer her up.” I smile sweetly.
Adam frowns. “Hall texted her again?”
I nod. Eliza doesn’t want to talk about the threatening messages, but we all know they’re always in the back of her mind.
“Come on, we’ll be fine. The boy-genius, and the girl who knows how to use a kitchen scale.”
He snorts, leaning over the island. “Don’t start selling yourself short now.”
The near-compliment melts over me like vanilla ice cream on a hot pie, but I attempt not to look too giddy. We both stare at the list between us. Eliza wants to gift the wedding guests Maine-themed candles as party favors. Something homemade with love.
“The instructions are pretty detailed,” I say. “You get everything ready in here, I’ll get the wax and oils. Jars are washed and dried in that cupboard.”
Adam smirks and pushes off the island, muttering. “How I’ve missed being bossed around like this.”
When I come back, arms full, Adam’s sprawled in a chair, scrolling through his phone, the table already set up for our little workshop.
“Diane Cox has had a rough few weeks,” he says in a deceptively neutral tone. “The network’s dropping her after today’s news.” He fixes me with a sharp, probing look.
The basket of ingredients keeps my hands busy. “Hmm?”
“It’s like somebody’s out to get her.” Now he’s watching me like a human lie detector. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your last interview, would it?”
Finally, I turn to meet his stare, squaring my shoulders. “Somebody had to level the playing field.” I have zero remorse. “If you come after me, you’d better be spotless. I’m done playing nice.”
Adam leans back, fingers interlaced over his stomach. Heat curls through me as an image of straddling him hits me out ofnowhere. He peers at me with unnerving focus, like he wants to peel my brain open, layer after layer, determined to reach the essence of who I am.
He unfolds from the chair slowly, his eyes still locked on me.
“No one holds a grudge like you do,” he says, shaking his head, but closing the distance between us.
The way he looks down at me has me scrambling for answers. He’s not acting like I’m the enemy anymore. There’s a new ease to the way we exist around each other.
But Adam still leaves a space he doesn’t seem willing to close. A space my body suddenly, foolishly wants him to erase, while my brain still clings to the hurt. To the memory of the lies. To the rational part of me that knows wanting him doesn’t undo what he broke.
When he pulls an earbuds case out of his pocket, I assume it’s to tune everything out. Including me. Listening to music is his way to keep his thoughts in check, to stop that beautiful brain of his from running wild.
To my surprise, his palm hovers in front of me, offering me a black earpiece. I don’t make a big deal out of it. I shouldn’t. It’s just some music.
A mellow tune drifts in, smooth as a brushstroke over my brain. The nostalgic beat, beneath the vinyl-style crackle, feels imperfect in a comforting sort of way.
“Do you think she gave us arts and crafts to keep us busy?”
“She’ll be a good mom someday,” Adam chuckles, stirring the melting wax in the pot with steady strokes. “Grab me one of those jars. We need to check the consistency before the next step.”
While he scoops some out, I suddenly remember the labels Eliza tucked in the everything drawer. On autopilot, I reach out, startling him, and a few drops of warm wax drip from the ladle onto my forearm.
I inhale sharply, hissing through my teeth.
“Shit! Are you OK?” He inspects my arm worriedly. “Did I burn you?”
“No, no.” I wave him off, though the warmth slithers down my body, pooling in unwanted places. I skim my fingers over the pearly bump that’s already cooled and hardened on my skin. “It’s fine. It…took me by surprise, that’s all.”
Adam tilts his head, looking at me with open interest. His voice comes out gruff. “That’s new.”
