I stroked her hair away from her face. “I kinda thought maybe you did.”
“I’m sorry I freaked out.” Her eyes flitted to mine. “I kind of got overwhelmed by everything. I—I think I loved it. But I’m going to have to think about it.”
“I know you loved it. There’s no doubt in my mind.”
She shoved at my shoulder, almost smiling. “That’s just because you want to do it again.”
“I do. Not gonna lie. But only if you’re into it, and you promise not to shut me out when it’s over.”
Her eyes narrowed. Those rainbow lips pursed. “I’m not capable of making any promises tonight, not when I’m feeling so raw.”
“I don’t need those promises. I just need you to tell me we’re still us.”
Her exhale was long and ragged, followed by a curt nod. “We’re still us. Always.”
“What happened while I was gone? I left a happy girl and came home to a manic one. I mean, I’ll take you any which way, but I gotta say, I prefer happy Adelaide by far.”
She snorted and shifted a little to put her feet up on her ottoman. “You know how I told you about my family’s tradition of giving gifts two days after Christmas?”
I nodded. “Today, right?”
“Yes. My entire life, it’s always been today. So, obviously, I went to my dad’s—my childhood home—to give him his gift, like I do every year.”
I braced to hear how Saul Goodman had broken Adelaide’s heart once again. She might not call it that, but that was what he did to her. She kept coming back for more because he was her only parent. The only link she had to her mother. That asshole took her love and affection for granted. If I could have shaken her, made her see she was worth more than that, I would have. But this was her dad. That wasn’t a place I’d go. Not if I wanted to keep her.
“There were shoes—women’s shoes—and a dress on the ground. Little debaucherous bread crumbs leading to his bedroom. My seventy-year-old father was so busy fucking his flavor of the week, he forgot about me and our lifelong tradition.” She captured her bottom lip, digging her teeth in hard. “I refuse to be sad anymore. I won’t do it.”
“Okay, Baddie. No sadness.”
I’d let her live in denial, even the river of neon-red blood flowing out of her broken heart. If that was what she needed to get by, who the hell was I to say anything?
She sniffled, then let her head fall back on the cushion with a groan. “I mean, what kind of creepy woman wants to fuck a seventy-year-old? It’s not like Saul is Harrison Ford or something. He looks like a freaking grandpa. A crusty one.”
I held my hands out. “Yeah, but Saul has the bag. Cash makes anyone sexier.”
She puffed up her cheeks and tapped her fingers on her stomach. “If you say so. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. He’ll never change. He’s proven that. He’s been teaching me not to hope for it, but sometimes I forget.”
“It’s your dad.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “How about you, Adam? How was your visit home?”
My shoulder went up. “Doesn’t feel like home anymore. This is home. Going back there is like visiting a foreign country where I stick out like a sore thumb.”
“Weren’t they happy to see you?”
A slow smile spread across my face at how affronted she sounded on my behalf. She’d seen firsthand what my parents were like when I FaceTimed her on Christmas morning while my mother oversaw the opening of presents like a drill sergeant.
“My parents were happy to have me there. I guess. I don’t know. I’m not their favorite person. Definitely least favorite kid.”
“You’re my favorite person,” she said.
“Yeah?” That slow smile turned into a full-on grin. “This is my first time being someone’s favorite person. And it’s you, so that makes it extra rad.”
“I can’t believe you don’t think you’re your parents’ favorite person.”
“I know I’m not. I’ve always been a screwup, and my dad liked to remind me every chance he got. He can’t really say that now that I’m doing well, but that doesn’t erase all the times I failed classes and crashed cars and stole their liquor, you know? They’re always gonna see me as that kid who messes up and can’t get anything right.”
“The black sheep,” she said sadly.