EMMA
"Do you want to go upstairs, Emma?"
Adam's eyes are so intense on my face, so hungry for me, so full of desire. His hands in mine are so warm, so soft.
I look from him to the windows of the B-and-B, my breath hitching, heart pounding in my ears.
Do I want to go upstairs with him?
My gaze traces his face, the patient look in his eyes, the sweet smile on his full lips. I hesitate on that smile, something deeply confusing stirring inside of me.
It's Adam. My mind races. No, I don't want to go upstairs with Adam. Right? He's my friend.
The tingles running through my veins, the heat spreading across my skin under his stare, tells another story. I bite my bottom lip, mind flip flopping between wanting to drop his hand and figure this mess out and desperately wanting to know what it feels like to kiss him.
To be kissed by him.
"Yes." I finally breathe.
His smile grows wider, fingers gently squeezing my hand as he guides me through the other wedding guests and off of the dance floor, through the dewy grass and into the gorgeous lobby of the inn.
It smells like old wood and the fire crackling in the entry, the room toasty and dimly lit. It's nice.
In silence, my heart beating so loudly I wonder if Adam can here it, he takes me to the staircase and I follow, my hand never leaving his the entire way up.
My hands are shaky, I hope he doesn't notice.
We're outside his room now, standing just outside his door and excited energy courses through my body. My mind is everywhere and nowhere, not fully developing any one thought except for Oh my, God.
Adam lowers his eyes, his hand softly cupping my cheek as he leans in.
I can taste the scotch on his breath as he gets closer, a sweetness I haven't tasted in a long while.
"Excuse me," Another guest, a friend of Gemma's from her time in England, I think, exits their room, making Adam and me jump apart, nervous laughs escaping us both.
His breath warm against my face, Adam leans his forehead to mine, a sweet grin on his lips.
I take a shaky breath in, growing impatient as he fumbles with his key.
Stepping into the room, we move in slow motion, never really touching except for our entangled fingers. Adam walks backwards until the back of his knees hit his mattress and he sits, resting our hands atop his knees.
Standing in front of him, I drop his hands and stare, once again unable to pull my gaze from his mouth.
Eyes fluttering closed, I lean forward, inching closer and closer to his face, his kiss.
Until something clicks inside me, invisible puzzle pieces coming together perfectly, and I see green eyes in my mind, a devilish smirk instead of a charming smile. My breath catching in my throat, I take an abrupt step backwards, back banging against the dresser as my hand flies to my chest.
"Emma?" Adam looks so confused, so crestfallen.
What was I thinking? I run a hand through my hair, feeling the crimson blush spreading across my cheeks.
It's Adam and he's such a good friend. Why... what was I thinking?
I shake my head, a small, nervous giggle bubbling out of me without permission. I cover my mouth with my hand quickly.
"Emma?" He repeats, not approaching me, expression morphing into one of understanding. And hurt.
Shit, why did I go and mess things up?
"I'm so sorry, Adam." As the words leave my lips, I watch them sink in one by one, the sadness overtaking his features. "We're such good friends."
His head sinks into his hands. For a moment, he says nothing, just shaking his head back and forth, fisting his curls and flattening them again and again.
Then he laughs. Not the happiest one I've ever heard, but not a fake one, either.
A bit of the pressure I feel on my chest is lifted at the sound.
Adam lifts his head, facing me straight on with a disappointed grin.
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Depends on the question," I say uneasily.
"I'll ask anyways." He chuckles again. "Is it... because we're friends... Or is it because you wish it was someone else?"
I blink at him, momentarily at a loss for the right words. How can I be honest, if I don't want to hurt him? How can I explain how I didn't understand myself, until just now?
Again, all I can say is, "I'm so sorry."
Again, his head sinks. "Yeah, I thought that was it."
"You get it, don't you?" I whisper, feeling awful. The guilt is already nagging at me.
At the same time, a newfound resolution courses through me, my mind clearer than it's been in awhile.
Adam sighs, shaking his head. "You and Beau? Honestly, no, Emma, I don't."
My heart sinks into my belly. Am I really so crazy?
"But I don't have to, do I?" He smiles then, eyes crinkling at the sides like they do when he's really, genuinely happy. "The heart wants what it wants."
"Emily Dickinson?" I cock my head to the side, more appreciative than I can express.
"Why try to change it when she already said it best?" Adam chuckles.
"Good point." I mutter, leaning against the wooden dresser behind me, more relaxed now that he doesn't seem so crushed.
"So what does your heart want, Emma?"
My mind barely finishes processing the question before my heart demands to be heard, overwhelming me with all things Beau.
The way it felt when I first met him, so sexy and rude but secretly charming. His scent - smoke and leather and hair spray and Beau. His eyes, my absolute favorite shade of green, even when they're sad and dark. The sound of his voice, on stage as he thrashed his head, and when he's humming behind the steering wheel. The sweet, rare melody of his laugh.
His child, inside me now.
"You know what?" I peer outside the window at the reception still raging below us, even rowdier than before. "I've actually got to go, Adam. Thanks for being so understanding with me. Really. You're an amazing friend."
I grab the skirt of my dress in one hand, slipping out of my heels using the other. I'm at the door frame when Adam stops me, asking where I'm going.
Barely turning over my shoulder to offer one last, appreciate smile to my friend, I reply honestly. "I've got something I need to take care of."
I stop by my room quickly, struggling to remove my gown by myself, but finally managing the task after a couple of tries. Switching into a sweatshirt and leggings, I lay the dress down nicely over my mattress, knowing it will remain empty for the night, and hurry from my suite.
Racing down the staircase and through the lobby, I pull my stiff, hair-sprayed curls into a low pony at the base of my neck.
On the outskirts of the dance floor, feeling a slight, misty rain out of the protective cover of the high-ceilinged reception tent, I scan groups of people for Gemma.
I find her at the center of the dance floor of course, grinding wildly on her husband despite the close proximity of their parents.
Lord, give me some of her boldness.
Marching forward, protectively shielding my belly from stray elbows and poor dance moves, I hurriedly tap on Gemma's shoulder to get her attention.
"Emma!" Her smile turns to a frown when she takes in my appearance, undressed and make-up slightly runny. "Emmy, what's wrong?"
"Gemma, I'm really sorry to bother you on your wedding night, but... Can I borrow your car?"
"Con has my keys. Of course." She turns to retrieve them, giving me a stern look as she hands them over. "You're scaring me. What's wrong, Em?"
Heart beating wildly in my chest, I feel light, like I'm soaring, flying through the air.
I'd been trying to deny it, the soft spot I still hold, maybe will always hold, for Beau. I've been fighting it since I've met him, always afraid, always waiting for the next ball to drop.
And it's dropped plenty of times. But what happened there, in Adam's suite? Coming so close to kissing someone else, holding someone else... it showed me that I already have everything I need.
I don't want anyone else.
"Nothing's wrong." I reassure her confidently, keys heavy in my palm. "Nothing at all... I just finally know exactly what I want."
Brows furrowed, Gemma narrows her eyes at me. Still, she grins trustingly and gives me a tight squeeze.
"Thank you for everything, Emma. Today was the best day of my life."
My heart clenches and I embrace her petite frame tighter for a second. Then my excitement explodes out of me and I have to let her go, ready to tell Beau everything I've discovered tonight.
I can't even walk normally as I make my way to Gemma's SUV, the tingly feeling pulsing through me making me skip like a child.
God, it feels good not to fight what every fiber of your being wants so desperately.
It's only when I'm strapped into my seatbelt, pulling out of the moonlit venue, that I take a deep, steadying breath, mind focusing on the road spanning ahead of me in the darkness.
It's only two hours, I eye the clock pointedly, my foot pressing harder on the gas.
Two hours.
And then I finally stop pretending.
.....
you wanted to yell at me the first half of this chapter, didn't you?
Emma girl, finally coming to her senses
on her way to see her man: what do we think happens next?
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