She straightened her stance, sucked in a deep breath. “This isn’t just about what you want, Adam. This is about what I want, too.”
“Then tell me what you want.”
“Right now? I want you to leave and go on with your life and promise me you won’t think about me at all once the gala is over.”
It felt as though someone had a stranglehold on his heart. Those were not the words of a woman who was ready to think about everything he’d said, everything he’d put on the line. “I can promise a lot of things, but I can’t promise that. Not after last night.”
“Well, you’re going to have to try because I have a job to do.”
Sixteen
Friday marked five days without a word from Adam. At least not directly.
Most of his interviews were complete, but there were a few loose strings to be dealt with, and most important, they needed to polish the speech he would give at the gala. They had a back-and-forth about his remarks for Saturday night, but it had all been funneled through his assistant. However much it crushed her, she couldn’t blame Adam for shutting her out like that. After all, she’d told him flat out to forget her.
The person Adam had apparently not shut out was Julia. The two of them quickly cropped up in the papers again, holding hands while shopping in SoHo, only two days after Melanie and Adam had made love. By now, the photographers had an uncanny ability to find Julia. Either Julia’s publicist was feeding them information or Julia and Adam had figured out how to do it on their own. It certainly wasn’t Melanie’s doing.
In fact, the whole thing was Melanie’s undoing. How did she end up right back in the same boat she’d been in weeks ago? Scrutinizing pictures in a newspaper like a crazy woman, looking for absolute confirmation that Adam and Julia were either real or fake. She hated that she was still asking these questions. She hated that she still cared, but she did. She cared so much that it felt as if everything inside her was dying.
The things Adam had said to her that morning in her office played on a continuous loop in her head. There could be something real between us if you’ll just let me in. She wasn’t convinced it was that simple. If anything, it was the impossible, masquerading as simple. Was Adam right? Had Josh damaged her so badly that she’d become incapable of trusting someone? Was her heart really that closed off? She didn’t want to believe she’d become that way, but maybe she was used to it. And if she were that way, what would fix it? Therapy? Meditation? Leaping off the curb into the path of an oncoming bus?
Melanie took in a deep breath of resolve, stepping onto the elevator up to Adam’s apartment. Today was the day they’d planned to go over his speech and discuss what he would wear for the gala tomorrow night. You can do this. You’ll be fine. She didn’t have much of a plan for dealing with Adam, beyond being professional. Adam, hopefully, would do the same. He’d run through the speech and show her what he planned to wear. She’d give him the thumbs-up and disappear. Then her only remaining hurdle would be the gala, and that involved an open bar, fully stocked with champagne—sweet, merciful champagne.
When the elevator doors slid open, Adam was getting up from one of the bar stools at his massive kitchen island. “You’re late.” The icy edge to his voice made her feel about two feet tall.
“I am?” Melanie consulted her watch. “It’s three minutes after five. You’re always late.”
“We aren’t talking about me, are we? I have things to do tonight.”
She sighed. So that was how he’d play this. She didn’t want to take the bait, but the way he’d run back to Julia really ate at her. “Hot date with America’s sweetheart?”
“Would that make you feel better? If your suspicions proved true?”
Adam’s words hurt, even when she couldn’t blame him for being angry. She’d been awful to him the last time she’d seen him.
“Let’s deal with your suit and the speech, please.”
Melanie followed Adam as he stalked back to his bedroom. The instant she was through the doorway, it felt as if something punched a hole in her chest, right where her heart was. The bed caught her eye, pristinely dressed with silky white bedding. It took no effort to remember exactly what it felt like to be with him tangled up in those sheets, the two of them so perfectly in sync. There were no issues in bed. It was everything outside the bedroom that was complicated.
If she’d thought this through, she could’ve moved the wardrobe discussion and speech practice to a less-intimate venue. Too late.