“Why don’t you begin by putting away that damned teacup and having a proper drink with me?” he replied, as he lifted the wine bottle to refill his own glass.
She shook her head at him when he looked up at her again.
“What’s the big deal?” he said. “You’re off the clock.”
“I don’t drink.”
“Yeah, and I don’t read novels,” he replied, with a nod toward the book he had just set down. “Come on, I’ll get you a glass.” He started to get up out of the chair, but he was brought up short by the sharp note in her voice as she responded.
“No!”
Adam looked at her quizzically, taking note of the haunted expression that had just flashed across her face.
“It’s just—I’m not trying to be rude. I just can’t drink,” she continued. “I’m sorry.”
His attention was caught by her choice of words. “I can’t drink.” Not don’t but can’t. He’d heard that before, often enough to know what it meant – almost always followed by a statement of the number of months clean and sober. It puzzled him, coming from her. It didn’t fit with the sketch of her background he’d pieced together through their conversations up to now. She’d grown up in an orphanage and then been hired to stay on there as a childcare worker after she’d reached her 18th birthday. This nanny job was her big adventure – her first time leaving the nest and venturing out into the big bad world. How did a girl like that even have a chance to become an alcoholic? He suddenly recalled what she had told him about her parents a few nights ago. “No idea what happened to my dad,” she had said. “My mom – she was an addict.”
“It’s because of your mother, isn’t it?” he asked, the teasing tone gone from his voice now. “She was an alcoholic?”
Jane shrugged at him, not answering his question directly. “These things tend to run in families,” she said. “It’s just not a story I want to repeat.”
“Of course,” he replied with genuine contrition. “Sorry. I’m an idiot.”
She smiled at him and then turned away to look at the shelves of CDs again. “Anyway, the music, right?”
Adam set down the wine and walked across the room to stand beside her as she thumbed aimlessly through the jewel cases. She turned her head to look at him for a moment. “Why do you care if I listen to music anyway?”
She expected him to answer something about himself. Clearly pop music had played an important role in his life. She was taken aback when she heard his reply. “Because,” he said, “I think you’re talented.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” He shook his head incredulously at the look of surprise on her face. “You’ve got a great voice.”
“I’ve got a hideous voice,” she said with a laugh. She’d always felt self-conscious of her singing voice, as much as she loved music. It was too low, too raspy. Not the way a woman’s voice was supposed to sound at all. No, a woman’s voice was supposed to sound high and clear, like that Julie Andrews in all of Adele’s videos.
“No,” Adam corrected, placing his hand on her elbow and looking at her seriously again. “You’ve got the most interesting voice I’ve heard in years. Trust me. You could be a professional musician. You should be a professional musician.”
She felt her cheeks starting to grow warm again at his touch, and she snapped her head back to look at the CD collection in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
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The Liar's Wife (Adam Levine Dark Romance)
قصص الهواة{Book #3 of The Obsessed Series} Something is rotten in the state of Idaho. When Adam and his new wife Jane leave Hollywood for a life of rural tranquility, all is not as it should be. A nanny arrives to find the family's secluded Idaho retreat in...
