whole house was barren. Empty. The only living part of the place was the roses that still bloomed brightly in the front yard. Roses that she could see if she flipped on the outdoor lights, but she hadn’t done so since her grandfather had died.
Was Kelly right? Was Adam not dealing well with her grandfather’s death and felt lacking in some way? Was he inadvertently pushing her away without realizing what he was doing?
But what about him rubbing his temple? Adam didn’t have headaches. At least, she couldn’t recall him ever having had one. Was it stress?
An insistent rap at her front door had her jumping up from the love seat. Her fork clanged against the plate, then onto the faded hardwood floor.
With Kelly on a date, only one person would show up at her door this late in the evening.
Excitement shimmied up her spine. Adam. He’d come to her. Finally. They’d talk, work through whatever had been bothering him.
On her way to the door she paused to stare at herself in the small framed mirror that hung on the wall.
Her hair remained pulled up in a loose ponytail, her face was clean-scrubbed, and she wore shorts and a T-shirt. But it was the dark circles and puffiness around her eyes that stood out most. She looked haggard even to her own eyes.
Maybe that explained Adam’s recent avoidance.
Or maybe if she’d quit procrastinating and open the door, she’d know exactly what the problem was.
“Who’s there?” she asked, her hand hesitating on the safety chain until she’d verified who was at the door.
“Adam.”
Barely able to contain her happiness, she undid the chain and lock and stared in horror at the man who’d become so entangled with her very being.
He looked awful.
Even more so than she did. His hair was ruffled from him having repeatedly run his fingers through it. His face was pale, gaunt. And his eyes. Never had she seen such lost blue chasms indenting his face. Deep blue orbs that threatened to drown anyone who looked too closely.
“Adam? What’s happened?” She reached for him, stopping short when he jerked back before her fingers made contact. As if he feared her touch.
“Adam?” she asked, uncertain how to take his reaction.
His gaze shot beyond her, never connecting with her face.
That’s when she got a whiff of him. Still wonderfully masculine Adam. Spicy, musky, sexy, intoxicating to her senses, but something more. Something intoxicating in a very different way. A way very unlike Adam.
He’d been drinking, and not just the glass of wine they occasionally shared.
She stared at him, wondering if he was drunk.
At least that would explain his strange behavior.
Liz’s anxiety increased tenfold. What was going on?
“Adam, has something bad happened?” She lifted her hand to touch him, almost crying out when he grimaced. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please, Adam. I know something is wrong. Tell me.”
Oh, Adam.
“Invite me in,” he ground out in a voice she barely recognized as his. A voice that bordered on angry, cold, devoid of any feelings for her. “There is something I have to tell you, and I’d rather not do so standing in your doorway smelling these damned roses.”
Liz’s heart sank. Something bad had happened.
Or was about to happen.
Was Adam breaking up with her?
Had she been wrong in her confidence in their love?
All the feelings of the past, feelings of those who loved her walking away, slammed full force into her, usurping her belief in her ability to be loved.
No, she reminded herself, Gramps loved you. You are lovable.
But still childhood wounds opened. Her confidence wavered and she couldn’t meet Adam’s eyes.
“Come in,” she said, and spun away, fighting tears.
She walked over to the sofa where she’d been sitting and picked up her plate. She really had no appetite, but needed her hands busy so she forked up a bite. Forced her mouth around the tasteless food.
He stood, watching her eat, making swallowing seem impossible beneath his stare.
“Good to see you’re eating. You’ve lost weight and look awful.”
What? She lifted her gaze to glare. “You come into my house and criticize me?” She couldn’t help the defensiveness in her voice. Kelly had told her pretty much the same thing only minutes before, but that was her friend who hadn’t been shunning her. Not someone who had been giving her the cold shoulder and winced when she’d reached for him.
“Stating the obvious isn’t criticizing,” he said matter-of-factly.
She dropped her gaze back to her plate, staring at a crouton, wishing he’d sit down so he wouldn’t tower over her, wishing she understood what was going on, afraid of what that understanding might bring with it.
She closed her eyes, hoping all the warning bells sounding in her head were wrong.
“The past few weeks have been strained.”
He had no idea.
“You’ve avoided me,” she accused softly, struggling to keep her earlier defensiveness from slipping back into her voice. “I don’t understand what’s going on between us, Adam. If I’ve done something, just tell me. We’ll discuss it and figure out how to make it right.” She gulped. “If you don’t want to make it right, well, we’ll figure that out, too. Just tell me what’s going on so I can understand.”
His frustration became a palpable pulse between them. Without looking, she knew he raked his fingers through his hair. It’s what he did when searching that genius mind of his for a solution to a problem.
Unfortunately, she was the problem.
Although she wanted to hang onto her faith in his feelings for her like a protective shield, she felt loss prickling at her soul, robbing her strength to hold herself together.
No. No. No. She would not cry. She wouldn’t.
“Liz, I… You…” His voice broke, as if he was struggling as much as she was. As if he battled within himself and didn’t know how to deal with whatever ailed him.
She glanced up, needing to see what was on his face, in his heart, because for the life of her she just didn’t understand what was happening between them.
He’d jerked away from her touch.
“Aw, Liz, I can’t do what I came to do.”
