I looked at my watch. 7:18.
“You’re such a fucking idiot,” I said out loud. “She probably isn’t even coming home tonight.”
I pushed off from the wall, shocked that my legs even still held enough warmth to keep me standing when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, and looked over to see her, looking perfect. And confused.
“Nathan? What are you doing here?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I didn’t answer her right away. I couldn’t. I was too busy just looking. While I looked like a crazy bearded mugger, she looked flawless. More polished than I’d ever seen her, actually. Thinner, though, if that were possible after only a week. Like her cheekbones were sharper than they’d been before.
I opened my mouth to say something and she raised her eyebrows expectantly. That’s when it hit me. She hadn’t cussed me out, hadn’t stormed past me, hadn’t run in the opposite direction. She was listening.
We were only a handful of feet away, and all the words that I thought about saying to her just dissipated, frozen in my head before they could get out. Falling forward, I sank to my knees in front of her, ignoring the wet slush that seeped into my jeans and wrapped my arms around her legs. My forehead rested on the black wool of her coat, the coat that I’d bought for her, and I just breathed her in.
“I’m so damn sorry, Adele. I can’t even tell you how sorry I am.” My words were muffled, but I didn’t want to let go of her, content to stay at her feet until she forgave me, or I froze to death, which was an actual possibility. She wasn’t touching me, and I didn’t dare look up. Because if I saw pity or steely resolve in her face, saw anything but forgiveness and want and desire, I’d lose it. “Please,” I whispered, “please tell me you forgive me.”
“How about you stand up and we’ll discuss it.”
I scrambled back, wiping chunks of snow off my knees while I stood. Adele folded her arms across her chest, and the red scarf she wore around her neck made her eyes look so goddamned green, I almost lost my breath. I couldn’t read anything in her face. Not a fucking thing.
We stood there in silence, snow falling quietly around us, covering the slushy mess with a fresh coat of white. The black of her coat, the red of her scarf, and the sleek gold of her hair stood against it so starkly, like someone had painted her like that, a picture of inscrutability.
Thank fuck she spoke first, I was liable to fall to my knees again. “You were pretty forthcoming this week.”
“You read them?”
She nodded with a slight narrowing of her eyes that made me fidget where I stood.
“Good. I’m glad. I meant … I meant every word. I hope you know that.”
“To do that, I’d have to trust you again, wouldn’t I?”
The words were so evenly spoken, her face so unwavering, that I felt my heart pinch. She was done with me. She was so fucking done with me. I pulled the cap off my head and rubbed a hand over my hair, just for something to do.
“Somehow,” I started, watched her tilt her head in quiet regard, “somehow I thought that my age meant I was better, smarter, on more solid footing than you were. But I was so fucking wrong. And my biggest regret is that you might have ever believed it. I’m sorry for that too.”
Somewhere in the middle, she took a step closer, the heels on her boots making her mouth only a few inches beneath mine.
“Nathan?” My eyes fell shut, hearing her say my name like that. Finally, there was warmth wrapped around those letters, like she’d savored it in her mouth before releasing it to me. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t get my eyes to open. “Can we go upstairs now?”
They popped open just as she lifted a freezing cold hand to cup my face. “What?”
“I’d really like to kiss you, but I don’t think we should do it out on the street.”
My eyes searched hers, finally seeing the melting that had happened since she said my name. Then her lips curved up, and my whole body lit up with a blinding, visceral blast. I wrapped her up in my arms and lowered my face to hers.
“I don’t give a fuck who sees this.” She gave me a brilliant smile, arms tightening around my neck. I paused right before our lips touched. “Wait, I need you to say it.”
“One of those men, huh? That need the words to do the dirty?” Because she grinned when she said it, I growled and moved forward, fitting her bottom lip between both of mine in a perfectly soft kiss. When I pulled back, her face was serious again. “Of course, I forgive you, Nathaniel. I’ve been miserable this week. It’s like my heart wasn’t beating the same way.”
Finally, finally I kissed her, relishing in the feel and taste of her icy cold lips between my own. We wound around each other, deepening the kiss with tongues and roaming hands. Adele grabbed my hand and started walking to the door to her place. I stopped her just after she unlocked it to let us in.
“Hey,” I said, not letting her go in just yet. She turned to me with a smile, drawing me closer with the hand I was gripping. “Thank you.”
“For what?” she asked, placing a soft kiss on my lips.
I took her face in both of my hands, rubbed the length of my nose against hers. “I’ll never do that again, I promise. Because I never expected to find something like this. To feel like this.” Adele drew her head back, clearly surprised by my declaration. I didn’t think she was any closer than I was to being ready to say those other words, but I’d give her everything I could. “I mean it. You’ve got me, Adele. And I’ll protect your heart, always give you a safe place.”
“That’s good,” she said with a shaky voice, resting her hands on top of mine where they still cupped her cheeks. “Because if anyone could catch me when I fall, it should be the one I’m falling for.”
I wrapped her in my arms, and we stood in that dark, cold stairwell, me holding her, her holding me, until the snow stopped.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Three Months Later
I pulled my car into the garage and didn’t get out right away, just taking a minute to not have an incredibly unprofessional freak-out. I’m talking full on yelling, screaming, bouncing off the walls celebration. Instead I kept my hands on the steering wheel and grinned, imagining Adele’s reaction when I went inside and told her.
Harvard. I was going to teach at mother fucking Harvard.
She was going to lose it.
When I’d pulled in the driveway, I saw a light on in the family room, so I knew she’d let herself in with the key I had given her about a month prior. For all intents and purposes she lived with me, only spending about one night a week at her apartment, since I was technically still an employee of Northern University, and she was a student there, regardless of the fact that she was no longer in classes I taught. So we kept it low key—driving out of town when we wanted go out, her maintaining the lease on her apartment and me making a point not to look her direction if we passed each other on campus.
But in four months’ time, we’d be able to do whatever the hell we wanted. I let out a relieved laugh and opened the door to go in.
God, what a relief. What a fucking relief. She’d be thrilled. No more being careful, no more wondering whose eyes were on us.
I tried to open the door, but it was locked. Hmm. Using my key to turn the deadbolt, I called her name when I walked in. But only silence greeted me.
“Adele?” I said again, a little louder. The kitchen was clean, a miracle when she’d been home by herself. On the island was the vintage Smith-Corona typewriter I’d bought her for Christmas. With a shake of my head, I pulled the cream colored paper out and brought it close enough to read.