Jesus. Fuck.Fuck.
I was snuggling with Adelaide Zala Goodman. It was hella nice, but I couldn’t stand that she was sad.
This was the last thing I’d expected to happen this morning, but she needed it, and now that she was here, I realized I did too.
“You can’t be sad, Adelaide. I can’t take it,” I murmured, even though it was a lie. I could take it if she needed to give it to me. If she had an ocean of tears to off-load, I’d carve a crater out of my chest to hold them.
Graceful fingers stroked the side of my neck. “People think they know what type of marriage my parents had. She was so young and beautiful, and my dad…well, he’s old and not so beautiful.”
Saul Goodman looked like a fuckin’ bulldog. An ugly one that had been put through the wringer a hundred times. His only redeeming feature was his eyes. Thank Christ that was what he’d given to Adelaide and nothing else.
I kept that to myself, holding her tighter to make up for my asshole thoughts.
“They were beautiful together, Adam. Even as a kid, I knew they were special. My mother was my dad’s sun and moon. He was her sky. They existed for each other. They made each other laugh and smile all the time. When I think of my dad’s smile, it’s from when I was little, not now. He doesn’t have that smile anymore, not the one that lit up his eyes and stretched all the way down to his toes.”
It was almost impossible to believe Saul had ever smiled. Then again, losing a love like that would have to be ruinous.
But I was feeling protective of Adelaide. Her mother may have died, but she was still here, alive. The fact that she hadn’t seen her dad smile the way he used to for a decade made me want to punch a goddamn wall. Or Saul Goodman’s unsmiling face. If she were mine, I’d never stop smiling. How could he have?
“If she was his sun and moon, and he was her sky, what were you?”
Her fingertips tapped on my throat. “I was their stars. It was thebestchildhood. The very best.”
I somewhat relaxed. That was the only acceptable answer.
“I’m glad you had that, Baddie. Glad your parents saw your shine.”
“They did. They definitely did.”
“Sorry your dad’s a dick.”
“Me too. I wish I understood him. He was forty-five when he married my mom. Forty-five, never married, and he found her. He waited for perfection, and now…” She broke off and curled deeper into me. “I’m sorry for laying this on you when you’re hungover. I’m just feeling a little raw.”
“You never have to apologize for giving me your feelings. That’s what I’m here for.”
People didn’t go deep with me. It might’ve been my fault. I might not have made myself available for that. Not consciously. But as I lay there, my hurting best girl in my arms, I realized she was the first person in a long, long time I’d really invited in. And that left me feeling raw too.
After a while, she let out a soft groan and propped herself up on her elbow. “I think my dad shares the same affliction.”
I cocked a brow. “Enlighten me.”
“You told me yourself. Every time your relationships start to bloom, they fade. My dad had his bloom with my mom. Maybe he’s trying to find that again. Maybe once you’ve had it, it’s hard to live without it. So, he finds these women—beautiful, completely inappropriate women—and latches on, hoping to recapture that bloom.”
Her head dropped, and she sighed. I had a feeling there was more, so I waited for her to continue.
“Maybe you only get one bloom.”
My heart slammed inside my chest with enough velocity to explode into dust.
“Well, fuck,” I gritted. “Then I’m doomed to keep fading?”
Her eyes tightened. “You had your bloom? You never told me.”
“Long time ago.” I tugged her down so her head was on my shoulder again. For a reason I couldn’t quite explain, I didn’t want her looking at me so closely anymore. “Molly became my girl when I was sixteen. I was so stupidly gone for her. I loved her big. We had all our firsts together. I thought I’d marry that girl. I’d planned it. We’d talked about it. We had kids and dog names picked out. We were gonna do it. We were gonna make it.”
“Did she love you big too?” Her question was almost a whisper.
“Yeah, she did.” Baddie pressed her palm over my heart like it was a gushing wound and she was trying to staunch the bleeding. She was mistaking a scar for a fresh wound, though.