“I haven’t really been in the mood for dating.”
“For a year?”
I shrugged. My dry spell didn’t need to be discussed.
Once more, he sprawled on the couch, finished off the beer. Eyes closed, he laid his head back against the cushions.
“What about you?” I asked, voice lowered. I could have left. I probably should have, given it would have been the smart thing to do. Yet my feet stayed still. No one had ever told me they loved me before outside of family, who were basically obligated to say that sort of thing. No one had given me that and meant it. It was a little overwhelming.
“What about me? You mean dating?” he asked, eyes still closed. “Nah. Not in the right headspace, besides being too busy recording and touring. The promo appearances alone have been never-ending.”
I stood behind the wingback, hands resting on top. “You look exhausted, and you stink.”
“You always said you liked the way I smelled.”
No way would I be going near that. “If you’re so damn tired, why were you heading to a club?”
“So I could play on the down-low with some local musicians. Just hang out and relax. Have a couple of beers and unwind without a whole lot of fuss.”
“No partying with groupies, huh?”
“Sad to say, but after you sign the first couple pairs of tits, it kind of loses its thrill. Mal was right about that. Of course, if he tried to sign any these days, Anne would chop off his hands.” He chuckled. “Too much drinking and my playing started to suffer so I had to cut back. Martha got Jimmy to give me a talking to after the hotel room incident.”
“Jimmy Ferris?”
“The one and only. Lead singer of Stage Dive and reformed addict.” He sighed, a soul-deep kind of noise. “What he had to say scared the shit out of me, actually. Lots of people offer you all sorts of things when you get big. Not that I’m as big as them. But the champagne just flows, let alone the hard stuff. I could have easily been headed straight for the 27 Club. He talked some sense into me, and I slowed it down.”
“Good. I know I used to ride you about sleeping half the day away, but you looked better back then. You looked—” Beautiful. I almost said it. “Healthy. Alive.”
He grunted. Some habits hadn’t changed. At least, not entirely. Overhead, the air-conditioning clicked on, the quiet hum the only sound since the song had finished. Not a single noise from the city filtered through. One of Adam’s eyes opened, taking me in.
I rested my arms against the top of the chair. “What?”
“Just checking you’re still here,” he replied.
“I wouldn’t leave without saying something.”
“Will you stay awhile? Please?” His eyelids fluttered and then fell closed again. “Despite the arguing, it’s good having you here.”
“Are you okay? You look totally shot.”
“No, I’m fine. It’s always like this after a show. Just stay awhile, okay?”
I hesitated. Of course, I did. But in the end, I couldn’t say no. He was so obviously rundown and lonely in this crazy new life of his. And we probably needed to argue some more about the check. There was that to be considered. “Okay.”
I sat down on the couch, curling my feet under me. Not so far away that I was being distant but not so near that either of us might find the other’s physical presence distracting. God knew how often I used to find his body distracting. Vexingly, impossibly, wonderfully distracting.
Adam gave a slight nod, his eyes still shut. Then his body relaxed fully against the couch. Within minutes, he was asleep. Adam had always been able to drop off easily while I tossed and turned and pondered something completely stupid and unnecessary for an hour or so. Like why dresses rarely had pockets (so they could sell us handbags) and if penguins ever got cold and wanted to move to the Bahamas. Important life-altering stuff. But even Adam had never fallen asleep this fast. How damn tired must the man be? In and out, in and out, his easy breathing filled the room. The number of nights that sound had lulled me to sleep, safe in the knowledge he was there. The one person who could turn me inside out with a single look.
And he’d left me alone in his lux new apartment where I definitely did not belong.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “Now what do I do?”
Chapter Three
Of course, I had to have a snoop around. No way could I waste this opportunity to intrude upon his space and spy on his new life.
Farther back in the apartment sat his large bedroom, walk-in wardrobe, and bathroom all done up in gray. At most, he’d filled up maybe a tenth of the wardrobe with a variety of jeans, including ripped and non-ripped, black and various shades of blue. A stack of tees and hoodies. A dozen or so pairs of shoes including sneakers and boots. His old battered leather jacket and a couple of flannel and button-down shirts. Not much had changed. Despite the gorgeous suit I’d seen him wearing on a magazine cover accepting a music award (the shirt’s crisp arrow collar juxtaposed nicely with his stubble, tousled hair and devil-may-care smile), he obviously hadn’t given in to a stylist for his everyday wear. In one corner sat a large stack of unopened boxes, but that was about all. In the fancy two-person shower sat a bottle of two-in-one shampoo and conditioner and a crumb of soap. It didn’t even look like the ginormous hot tub had ever been used. Make no mistake, I’d have been in there the first chance I got. Wealth was wasted on Adam.