Wellllll we're back in the thick of things, Folks. And this chapter? Well, it might not be what you think it's going to be. But again: trust the… fill in the blank!
/
"Hello" - Adele
Lacey turned a couple of times in order to see the dress from all angles. "And you don't think gold washes me out?"
"No way," Halen answered emphatically. "With your hair dark again, it totally complements."
"And I like that it's a sheath dress. It's really classy, and that's what you'll want if you're going up to accept an award," Ariel added, leaning against the dressing room wall.
Lacey knew it was quite a sacrifice for her sister to be out dress shopping with her. She was at the ankle-swelling phase of her late-term pregnancy, and she probably would have preferred to stay at home with her feet up. But when Lacey found out Kristy was unable to join her in the formalwear search due to having to doctor two sick children, Ariel offered to come along. And her sacrifice was greatly appreciated, as her more practical sister had a way of tempering the more fanciful ideas of Halen.
"I still think an A-line would be pretty," Halen nibbled on a fingernail, deep in thought. "You're sure you don't want to try that last one on again?"
"No, I think this style is more age appropriate," Lacey replied, still studying herself in the mirror. "Plus, there was glitter detail on that one, and I don't know about being that bold."
"You should go with this one," Ariel said decidedly. "It's been the best by far. And do you know what would look great with it?"
"What?" Lacey inquired absently, studying the cowl back.
"That emerald comb you got years ago for your birthday. From the One Who Shall Not Be Named?"
Lacey paused. "I don't know, Guys."
"Oh, let all that drama go, Lacey," Halen replied impatiently. "It's a gorgeous comb, that's all. Wear it. I would."
Sighing, Lacey wrinkled her nose. "Maybe."
That's when she caught her sisters exchanging discreet smiles, and she briefly wondered why before dismissing the act as a twin connection over something she wouldn't understand.
Lacey spent way more on the dress than she'd been prepared to pay, but she figured that after the gala, she could consign it for a good amount. She carried it in a nice garment bag to the car, carefully. "I owe you guys for helping me with this."
"Well you know we wouldn't have missed it," Halen replied as she pressed the keyless entry to unlock the doors. "And you've been working on your speech? You've only got a little under two weeks."
"It's not going to be much of a speech," Lacey replied ruefully. "I think it's better to keep things short and sweet. But trust me, it'll be good enough."
"You're going to be gorgeous," Ariel smiled back at her from the front seat. "We're making sure of it." She winked at Halen.
Lacey's brow furrowed and she thought about asking the twins if there was something she needed to know. Instead she shook her head and busied herself thinking about what shoes to wear as Halen drove them to Panera Bread for paninis and coffee to go.
It was a cozy afternoon spent with her sisters, and she scored a nice dress for the gala to boot. Add to it the fact that her cold was finally going away and Lacey could officially check the day off as a success.
/
She should have figured that the next day would rock her to her core.
Lacey loved The Daily Grind. She always had and always would. It's where she sold her art, spent hours sometimes just sipping on coffee and pondering her next project, and enjoying more than her fair share of strawberry muffins.
But it was starting to change, and it wasn't just because she could barely sell paintings anymore. It was once a quaint little shop patronized by a small niche of people. The last few years it had become a bustling assembly line, the baristas no longer taking their time to make conversation, and with not nearly enough tables to seat the droves of people that piled in every day. It was still charming, but it had lost a little something over the years and now equated to more like a Starbucks. So it was with that in mind that the next Saturday morning, Lacey sought somewhere else to go to work on sorting through the Angel-for-a-Cat wish list items to be sure they matched each cat's need.
She had made some changes to Cat's Cradle in the last few months and hoped Alice would approve. For one thing, she added a donor-supported coffee bar in the lobby, and was working to figure out how the building could be modified to better accommodate the cats roaming freely during the day, only returning to kennels at night. On a recent tour of another animal rescue in St. Paul, Lacey had been inspired to turn the space more into a home for the cats than a "shelter", so to speak.
But these things were consuming large amounts of her time, and more and more Lacey was considering how she might let go of Hope Heals–as dear to her heart as the center had become to her–to run Cat's Cradle full-time. The shelter received a lot of support from the community, and that had only grown over the years; and she certainly hoped it would grow even more upon her receiving the award from Community Caring, particularly if the press was going to be there to cover it. Which meant her speech was going to have to be beefier than what she had originally planned. There was that to work on, too, and not enough time for all of this.
The pressure had been enough to cause Lacey to bite her nails down to the quick. But she knew it was important for her to stay calm. One thing at a time.
There was a new coffee shop a block over from The Daily Grind–Love a Latte–that had opened only last year. It seemed to her from the few cars parked in front of the tiny building that their business was still gaining customer momentum, and every time Lacey drove by, she hoped the small place would soon thrive. She'd always been one to root for the little guy. It seemed the perfect day to scope it out as she needed quiet and comfort to sort through all the things on her list.
As soon as Lacey stepped through the door, she fell in love. The decor was done in deep jewel tones with bright throw pillows spread out on the two couches, a tiny Give-a-Book, Take-a-Book shelf, and string lights everywhere. It wasn't The Daily Grind. Nothing ever would be like the coffee shop she'd come to know and love over the years, but it was a warm, quaint space in which to work.
There were only a few customers there. Doing a quick sweep with her eyes, Lacey noticed a couple of women having a quiet, intense conversation on one of the sofas, their mugs stacked together on the coffee table in front of them. A lone teenager was tucked into one of the tables in the corner, looking to be doing homework, earbuds in as he nodded along to whatever music he was listening to while tapping the end of his pencil on his textbook. In the other corner, a man sat with papers spread out all around him, laptop open in front of him, his head bowed as he scribbled something furiously on a tablet of paper. A couple other people in the area had had the same idea as her.
"Welcome to Love a Latte!" The cheerful barista called out from behind the counter, shaking Lacey from her observations. "Can I interest you in one of our fresh cinnamon rolls, just out of the oven?"
And that was Love a Latte's golden ticket into her heart. The very fact that this place had cinnamon rolls that smelled like what she was currently smelling took away a little of the sting of missing The Daily Grind's strawberry muffins. But, as usual in life, self-indulgence had to stop somewhere.
Okay, you can have a cinnamon roll, but not a sugary coffee.
"Um…sure," Lacey replied, coming over. "I'll have one of those, and a regular black coffee."
"Got it," the barista, a cute twenty-something sporting a purple-highlighted pixie cut and a nose ring, replied. "Go ahead and pick out your mug, and I'll get it ready for you." She gestured to a tray on the counter beside her that was stacked with lots of different shapes, sizes and colors of coffee mugs.
"Oh, I get to…just pick one?"
The girl nodded. "Sure! We like to keep things interesting around here."
Lacey smiled and picked out a bright blue mug with indentions on the sides versus the traditional cup handle. On the front, the word "Capable" was hand-painted in cursive. "I think I'll take this one." She handed the mug to the girl.
"Good choice. I'll have it out to you in just a minute, 'kay?"
"No problem," Lacey replied, shifting her tote full of papers and headed over to a table close to the counter to relieve herself of the burden. Heaving a sigh at the overwhelming thoughts that were crowding her mind once again, she tried to make orderly stacks out of the various lists, invoices, articles, and other things she needed to make it through in a few hours. Even if she could just get through a fraction of it…
She couldn't help but inwardly smirk at the fact that, two tables down and facing her, the working man had his own papers spread out everywhere. Working hard on a Saturday. How pitiful were they?
Just as she was reaching for the stack of Angel-for-a-Cat lists, the girl called out her order, and she got up quickly to retrieve it. She was definitely going to need the caffeine–and the sugar high.
Lacey sat back down, trying to organize her thoughts before she landed into the list. That would require that she sit still for a moment, slow down, and enjoy a few sips of coffee. She'd learned by now that the best way to work fast was to start slow.
Finally, the man a couple of tables down sat up from the hunched over position he'd been in as he scratched notes. Eyes glued to his laptop, he reached up in a familiar gesture to rub the back of his neck.
Lacey nearly spilt her coffee, setting the mug down with a loud clunk.
Oh no. Not this again.
The face that had been obscured from her for the last few minutes came into full view. And it was too late to do anything to hide, because at the sound of her mug hitting the table, his eyes darted up and met hers.
Lacey sat frozen to the spot for a moment as Adam stared back at her. She thought she caught sight of him swallowing hard. He probably felt just as awkward about this as she did.
What to do?
Well…what else made sense?
Lacey took a deep, steadying breath to try to calm her hammering heart, and stood up, walking to his table slowly. She was going to make this a normal, pleasant encounter if it was the last thing she did.
Adam's wary eyes never left hers as she approached. It was as though he was watching a stranger come over to greet him and was wondering what on earth they wanted, not her—Lacey. But she did all she could not to let it disarm her. "Adam," she smiled. "Hi. I…didn't realize you were in town."
"Oh, yeah." He returned her smile, coolly. "Christmas and all. Just spending time with family."
Lacey paused, feeling a stab in her chest she had thought she'd surely never feel again as she studied his face. It was at once very changed from his youthful baby face, yet at the same time, not. His eyes, lips, and sharp browline were so familiar she could have traced them with her eyes closed, yet his nose, once cute and upturned, was now much straighter and chiseled. He wore a five o'clock shadow, boyish freckles gone. His hair, longer on the top, was stylishly coiffed.
This was her Adam. And she'd missed so much of his life.
"Um," she found herself speaking before she could stop the request from spilling out of her mouth. "May I sit?" She gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sure," he shrugged, not missing a beat as he turned back to his laptop, typing a couple of things in.
Lacey pulled out the chair and sat down stiffly, glancing down while trying to figure out what exactly she wanted to say. But, just as they usually did with her, the words finally came.
"How have you been?"
Adam finally stopped typing and looked up, giving her another diplomatic smile. "Well. Can't complain. And you?"
"I'm…I'm well too." She swallowed hard, trying to work back up enough saliva to wet her dry mouth. "I…well, it's just really good to get to talk again. After, you know, everything…" Lacey dug her remaining nails into her palms underneath the table.
Adam shrugged. "Oh, sure. No harm, no foul." He finally closed his laptop and leaned against the table, giving her a blunt stare. "This is a nice place to work, isn't it?"
"Y-Yes. Well actually I don't know," she laughed uneasily. "This is my first time coming."
"You'll like it I'm sure," he replied with an easy tone. "Looks like you've got a lot to do too, so I'll let you get back to it. Nice seeing you." Adam sat back and picked up a stack of papers to rifle through.
But Lacey didn't move.
He finally peered up at her again. "I'm sorry, was there something else?"
His manner with her was unnerving. Did he not remember all they'd shared during their time together? All the laughter, the long talks? That comfort that wrapped them both up like a blanket, soothing each of their troubled spirits?
"I-I guess…" Lacey took a big breath, not caring anymore if he noticed how nervous she was. "...I was hoping maybe we could get together, you know…one day when we're not trying to work…and talk a little."
Adam continued to stare at her blankly. "About what?"
Lacey felt her cheeks grow hot as she felt frustration taking over. "About us. About…what happened. I have some things I need to get off my chest, and I just want a few minutes of your time when you're not busy."
"Okay, well," he set his papers down on the table. "I've got time right now. What would you like to say?"
Lacey stared at him, appalled. "Adam, what is this? Why are you acting this way? You know what happened in Albany nearly killed us both. Or it did me, and, I don't know, did I just imagine it was hard on you, too?"
Adam sighed, leaning forward after his eyes scanned the room, lowering his voice. "I guess you did, Lacey. I mean, we were kids. We thought we were in love, but we had no idea what that meant. But we're grown now, we've both moved on, and," he shrugged dismissively, "to be honest, I don't really think about it anymore. It was a long time ago. So I really don't feel the need to rehash it."
"Adam," Lacey shot back before she could stop herself. "What about the ring you sent back to me? That was years after what happened between us. And the phone call when you asked… you asked why I didn't wait for you? We can't just pretend that never happened when those were the last words we ever spoke to each other."
But Adam's gaze remained apathetic. Who even was this person?
He opened his hands. "Lacey, what do you want me to say? Yes, I was hurt, but now I'm over it. Life's been good to me, and I just don't see the need in revisiting old stuff. And I suggest you think the same. Now, if you'll please let me get back to–"
"Well I'm sorry, but I don't see it that way. I'm only asking for an hour of your time. Can you not just do this one little thing?" Lacey leaned in.
"I'm busy." Adam replied tersely. "It's the holidays and I really don't have time for this. Good luck, Lacey. It was nice seeing you, but we both have work to do, and maybe I just need to let you focus on doing yours. I'll find another place to do mine so it doesn't upset you." He looked down and began stacking all his papers together.
Slowly Lacey stood, staring at him, feeling pools of tears fill her eyes. She felt hurt and beyond…so far beyond…humiliated. "All right," she whispered, before finding it in her to say it a little louder so he could hear. "All right. Um…I've made it pretty clear I'm an idiot lost in the past, and you've made it pretty clear that you don't care about any of it anymore. Don't bother leaving. I will. I hope you have a Merry Christmas."
Not looking back, Lacey went over to her table, leaving everything–including her once-delicious looking cinnamon roll, which now looked as flat as cardboard–on the table except for her papers, which she thoughtlessly stuffed back into her tote, not even caring how they went in. The water in her eyes finally overflowed onto her cheeks, but she wasn't going to reach up to wipe them away. She didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing her do so.
This little coffee shop had been promising. But after this, she knew she'd never be back.
/
Adam's insides quivered like jello and he had to clench his hands for a moment to keep them from trembling.
What was the woman thinking? Why would he ever, this many years later, want to rehash the disastrous end to their relationship? Hell no. He wasn't going there. It was over. After all, she was the one who'd painted herself letting go of that scarf.
And what were the chances he would find a new coffee shop to work in to get away from her presence only to be sitting practically across from her? The whole idea infuriated Adam, not that he could necessarily blame anybody for it.
Attempting to appear that he was going on with his day since she was the one leaving, he pulled a random file out of his briefcase and studied it without registering its contents whatsoever. But he remained very aware of Lacey's presence as she stuffed her papers back in her bag. He heard her sniffle.
Well, it was her fault, he reasoned. She's the one who'd chosen to approach him.
Adam did what he could to harness his focus once again. When Lacey passed by, she didn't look at him. But he saw them anyway.
Tears. In those big brown chocolate drop eyes.
Adam remembered a time when he felt he could stare into those beautiful eyes forever. He recalled the way they shone with excitement when he took her to the art museum on her eighteenth birthday; the way they crinkled at the corners when she laughed at his poor attempts at painting at the lake house when they came back from San Francisco, before he left for college. Back when they were young and he couldn't imagine wanting anything more than to be by her side…
…Except for the NHL. Yes, he had wanted the NHL, and she had made him pay for it. He was determined to keep a tight fist around that reality, because it was absolutely imperative to him that he stay grounded, never again letting emotion take over the better part of him.
But he'd also just made her cry, which caused him enough discomfort to set the file down when he heard the tinkling of the bells on the door's Christmas wreath, signaling her exit.
Adam sighed, running his hand over his face tiredly before standing quickly and grabbing his coat. He made it outside just in time to see her cross the street toward her car. Thankfully he was unimpeded by passing traffic and was able to make his way across the pavement behind her. But she'd gotten into her car without realizing his proximity, and he saw her rest her forehead on the steering wheel, shoulders shaking with her sobs.
Damn.
He was just trying to work. What had he done to deserve this mess?
Chewing his lip for a second as he stood outside her window, not exactly sure the best way to let her know he was there without startling her, he finally gave up and knocked on the glass. She jumped, looking up and regarding him with surprise, then good old-fashioned anger. It occurred to him she might not bother to roll the window down given the way she was staring up at him. When she finally started the car, he slowly turned to walk back across the street in defeat. Then he heard the sound of power windows.
"Let's see if I can do this as well as you can: what do you want?" Lacey snapped. "Uh oh, still too much emotion. Then, you always were better at the stone cold thing than I was."
Adam turned back to face her, the last remark reigniting the fire in his chest. But he willfully ignored it. "I'll talk to you. When and where? And an hour is all I'm committing to."
"You're sure you're not too busy with work, and Christmas, and travel, and staring down your nose?"
He shook his head, disbelievingly. "Why are you making this so difficult, Lacey? I said fine. I'll meet you. What else would you like?"
She closed her eyes, reaching up to massage between her brows before responding. "If it's not too personal, why don't you come by my house one evening and we can sit in the living room or at the kitchen table? I just don't really want a public place, okay? We should be relaxed. I'll make tea, or…or whatever you drink now." He noticed she kept glancing off to the side as though afraid to meet his eyes again.
The suggestion was absolutely terrible. Why would she ever think he would want to come to her house? Her point was fair, though, and where else indoors would there be for them to talk that wasn't public? Besides–regardless of the fact that it would be on her turf, he could easily just get up and walk out when he was ready.
"All right then," he finally replied civilly, repeating, "When?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "When do you want to come? I'm flexible with evenings usually."
"Let's say Monday." That was just two days from now, and he truly wanted this whole thing to be over with. Then he would surely not run into her again until the gala, where he would be sure to keep his distance. "I'll be there by seven."
"Seven, then. Okay." And with that simple confirmation, Lacey rolled her window up.
Figuring he'd better get out of her way, Adam took a couple of steps back as she pulled away from the curb.
Well…he could certainly stick a fork in his attempts to work today. Adam shook his head, blowing out a deep breath as he went back into Love a Latte–who'd come up with such a sappy name?-to grab his things. The childish thought that suddenly occurred to him was that if he had his laptop filched while he was outside, he could blame her. Putting his things away and placing his used coffee mug in the appropriate bin, he put money in the tip jar and headed for his Bentley.
Get a hold of yourself. You're not twenty-one anymore.
He had two days to calm himself down over this. And in that moment, he wished he'd asked Lacey years ago to teach him how to do her beloved box breathing.
/
"You should pray first," Kristy suggested gently, stirring honey into her chamomile tea.
But Lacey snorted, replying bluntly. "I said my prayers first thing the morning I ran into him, and do you think they protected me from having the worst day I've had in awhile?"
"Lacey, come on," Ariel intervened impatiently. "You know everything either happens for a reason or ends up with a purpose after all. Why are you being so irrational?"
Her sister had her feet propped on a pillow on the coffee table, shoes off. She'd complained she hadn't been able to wear them in days. "I remember those days," Kristy had chuckled when she'd entered the living room and saw Ariel. "But not sorry they're over." When the baby and pregnancy talk started, Lacey always felt left out. She had rubbed her forehead, all the while Halen, seemingly unaffected, sat on the sofa next to Ariel, regularly reaching over to press her hand to her twin's belly as though it was her own. But as irritated as Lacey might be right now, she definitely couldn't thank her tiny support group enough for having dropped what they were doing on a Saturday afternoon to come listen as she cried to them like the baby she surely was.
"I think Adam's still a good guy," Halen offered earnestly. "He just doesn't want to confront his hurt again."
"Well guess what? If I confronted it every day for as long as I did, he can surely confront it for one hour," Lacey replied tiredly. "I know I can't make you guys get it, but if you could have just seen the look in his eyes. I mean, even if what we had years ago really does mean nothing to him now, I'm sure I was giving him the express impression that it means something to me."
"I think we all view relationships differently from one another," Kristy mused after several seconds of quiet. "Adam might be better at compartmentalizing. It acts like a shell, protecting him from being hurt."
Lacey shook her head impatiently. "It just feels so unfair that he can do that but I can't. I'm left with the whole mess in my lap. And…well, that's the thing. It finally wasn't a mess anymore. I felt all sorted out until I ran into him again. Then, it didn't seem right not to try to make peace. But when he…" she trailed off, sighing. "It was just a really dumb idea. But now he's agreed to the meeting, so I guess it's what I'll do."
"Keep your head about you this time though, okay?" Ariel reminded Lacey.
"Please," Kristy agreed, having witnessed firsthand the conversation in Albany that went up in blazes. "And Lacey, you really can't hit him like you did last time."
Lacey chuckled in spite of herself. "Okay, that was a low blow. But I'm thirty-five now and can self-contain much better."
"You hit Adam?" Halen's eyes went wide.
"Oh, Halen, come on. I just kind of hit his chest a couple of times. Trust me, he's built like a brick shithouse. I didn't hurt him," Lacey rolled her eyes.
"Or it did hurt him, just not so you could see?" Halen argued. "I can't believe you'd do something like that."
"Halen, come on, cool it," Ariel nudged Halen with her elbow. "Things happen, people fight. Sometimes it gets intense. I mean, we all know the huge crush you used to have on Adam, but try to shove that off and see it Lacey's way."
Halen raked her hand through her untamed blonde waves, shaking her head. "Yeah, maybe I did have a crush. But I wasn't really thinking about that part of it, just…he was always so nice to us, you know? Those are the biggest memories I have of Adam. He was here all the time, smiling and listening to our stupid jokes, then one day he just didn't come back. And I remember wondering how two people who felt about each other the way you did could be over with that suddenly."
Lacey listened, realizing that the girls had felt the loss of Adam, too. She'd just been too wrapped up in her own grief to even think about that.
"He was so cool," Ariel grinned. "Those were good times. Going to the playoffs with you, waving our tacky, homemade 'Go Ducks' posters. But he never seemed embarrassed by us glomping him, you know? He always bought us birthday presents…oh, and remember that time he let you borrow his portable CD player, Halen? Back when those were a thing?"
Halen laughed. "Oh my gosh. I thought I was the It Girl. This was back when we mostly still had cassette tapes," she informed Kristy, who looked on with interest. "And I asked him one day if I could borrow his Filter CD. I couldn't believe it but he said yes, and even brought me his portable CD player to listen to it on after I told him Mom might yell if I played it too loudly. Then…"
Lacey winced at the memory.
"...I had it sitting on the bathroom sink while I dried my hair one morning, and accidentally knocked it off into the toilet."
Ariel burst out laughing. "Oh my gosh and you cried like a baby. You were so afraid he'd be mad."
"I was mad," Lacey laughed. "I was going to go to the mall to find one just like it, but it was a little out of my price range…"
"Yeah, so I had to just come clean," Halen was sitting on the edge of the sofa, caught up in her story. "I called him on the phone crying so hard Dad had to dial the numbers for me. Then he stood there and rubbed my shoulders while I confessed to Adam."
"And?" Kristy prompted.
"And he was just so nice and calm about it. He said something to make me laugh…I don't remember what it was…but then he just let it go. I mean, I'm pretty sure he bought himself another one, and I did manage to save the actual CD. But it's those kinds of things I think about when I think of Adam." Halen looked over at Lacey with her big, old-as-the-sky eyes, smiling wistfully. "I'm sure we'd see things differently though had we been older, and had we, you know, actually lived the breakup like you did."
Lacey returned Halen's smile, trying to keep it light. "I'm glad you guys remember the good times."
It was these kinds of things–these memories–that had the ability to snap her heart in half. Sure, they'd been bittersweet for a long time, but now that she'd encountered Adam again and exchanged words with him for the first time in eleven years, she was having to confront a cold, hard reality: he might truly not be that boy anymore that she loved so long ago. People change, and what's worse is, they sometimes become truer versions of themselves. Could it be that his sweet and tender spirit toward her back then was just part of a boyish charm that was inevitably going to wear off?
The Adam Lacey knew might be gone forever. But no one could take her memories of him. She would cling to them, learn all over again to come to peace with them–a cycle she was starting to believe would never truly end–lend her perspective to this new man when she met with him in two days, in hopes that it would help them both come to terms with what happened, and then walk away.
/
Lacey did her best to keep things simple. This was a discussion, not a social call.
She of course made sure the house was clean, but wore her casual clothes and didn't go through the trouble of the things she might usually do for a guest, such as light a candle. She did, however, opt to make some of her amazing hot apple cider. It had snowed off and on the past couple of days, and she wanted to do something at least a little inviting to lend a comfortable, warm environment in which she and Adam could relax. The gesture of goodwill might make a world of difference.
Her heart had pounded out of her chest almost all day. At one point, unable to focus a whit on her case management duties, she took one of her anxiety pills. It had long worn off, however, by the time seven o'clock rolled around that evening.
She took a deep, shaky breath as she saw headlights out the window when Adam pulled up to the curb. He did show up, and on time. Surely that bode well. When she heard his car door slam and imagined he was coming up the walkway, she managed to swallow despite her dry, scratchy throat, and opened up the door.
As he walked toward her, his expensive-looking coat buttoned up against the cold, his expression remained neutral until he reached her. She stepped back, allowing him to enter as she gave him what she hoped was an earnest smile. "Let me take your coat?"
He wordlessly unbuttoned it and let her have it, along with his scarf. Lacey saw that he was more formally dressed, wearing a nice tan sweater with gray slacks, and she was suddenly embarrassed by her jeans and buffalo plaid hoodie, hair in a plain partial ponytail. At least she had on makeup.
"Hope your day went well," she attempted pleasantries as she hung up his things on the rack behind the door. "I'm sure your parents are happy to have you home."
"Yes, they are," Adam replied in a pleasant tone. "I'm not home enough."
Lacey saw him staring around at his surroundings, probably feeling the odd sensation of having been to the house so many times before, yet registering how much it had changed.
"Your dad was really generous to do what he did for my parents. He counted their rent as the price paid for the house. Halen and I rent from them." She stood facing him then, hands folded in front of her.
Adam nodded, one corner of his mouth turning up in a little smile–the first she'd seen from him. "Dad has a great heart. He just doesn't hang it out there a lot."
"Yeah, he's…he's always been a great landlord," Lacey stammered. "Um…" she led him with a beckoning hand toward the living room. "Would you rather sit here, or at the table?"
After looking around some more, he answered, "This is good."
"Okay then," Lacey paused. "Can I interest you in apple cider? I make it with the ultimate recipe."
Oh, but how could she forget he didn't eat or drink sweets? What a dumb idea cider had been.
"I'll take some," he replied, sitting down a little stiffly. Lacey wondered if he was hurting due to the cold.
"Or I can make you some coffee," she added.
"Cider's fine. Though you didn't have to make anything special."
"It's okay, I wanted to," she answered quickly, then worried she might seem a little too eager to please him–which she certainly was not. She was as calm as she possibly could be under the circumstances. In a way, it was hard to think about issuing a bleeding heart apology to him for her part in their relationship's demise after the way he'd acted toward her Saturday morning. But she needed to do this, for her if not for him.
Heading to the kitchen, Lacey took out one of her bigger mugs, hoping it might warm his hands, and poured him some cider before pouring it for herself, too. She breathed a silent prayer as she carried the two steaming mugs into the living room.
She handed Adam his, then sat down.
They were both quiet for a moment as Lacey fished for a good way to transition from small talk to the thing he'd come here for them to discuss.
"Thank you for coming," she began. "I just, um…I don't expect things to change between us. I just feel it would be good for us to talk about what happened so maybe we can let go of…" she remembered to change direction. "...Okay, well maybe not you, but me. I need to let go of the past, and I think this is the way to do it."
Adam took a sip of his cider, then gave a short nod.
"S-so…" Lacey was frustrated at the way she had stammered her way through the exchange so far. Breathing in slowly, she attempted a pleasant smile. "Are you ready…? Because we ca–"
"I'm ready," Adam answered quietly, settling back on the couch caddy corner to her as she occupied the easy chair, on the very edge.
Her hands shook as she set down the mug and clutched them together in her lap, trying to keep it from showing. She swallowed hard before beginning, determined just to get it all out. "Okay. Well… I guess the best way to start is with an apology. For a lot of things, but especially for Albany. You know, I used to let myself believe it was just that specific part of the trip–the last night–that I needed to apologize for, but really, I screwed up with the whole thing. When I got your voicemail the day the towers were hit, I just reacted. I felt like I had to see you, to put my eyes on you and make sure you were okay. I was desperate, because I…" Lacey paused, feeling awkward, but pressed on. "...I still loved you, and I couldn't imagine a world without you in it. Adam, it was never my intention to go there, hook up with you and play with your heart. I was coming as a friend. I truly just wanted to check on your wellbeing. But when I saw you get out of the car after I was almost sure you were dead, I guess maybe I was just overcome with emotion. The next thing I knew, I was in your arms, kissing you. I knew right away that that was my first mistake, but I guess a part of me wanted t-to…feel that magic with you again."
He continued to watch her, his face passive.
"Then, when we got inside and settled in front of the fire to talk, you pretty quickly brought up hockey again. That's how I knew nothing had really changed, and of course we both know it wouldn't have worked if things just went back to the way they were before. But instead of keeping my distance, I fell back into the comfort of us, of what we'd always been. I don't know if you remember what that felt like, but it was…like a warm blanket on a cold day. And that last night, Adam, God help me, but I was selfish and impulsive. I wanted you." She averted her eyes, blushing. It felt strange to talk about something this intimate with this "new" Adam–essentially still a stranger to her. "I should have known what it would do to both of us, but in that moment, I just wouldn't let myself think that far. The next morning was the absolute worst, too, because I felt so much guilt. I'd hoped you'd understand if I told you it had all been a terrible mistake. But you didn't, and I can see why, believe me. Then we got into that horrible fight, said awful things to one another and by then, it had gone too far. There was no fixing it. But Adam," she leaned forward, wishing with all her heart he would show some type of emotion instead of just staring at her flatly. "I've carried this guilt and pain with me for years. I've never been able to truly let it go, no matter how many times I thought I had. It always comes up again. Trust me, even during my marriage, which ended up a dumpster fire, big surprise."
Lacey felt she'd been talking for an hour, even though it had taken her less than five minutes to get all that out. She sat back slowly, spent. "And it's okay if it takes you a minute to process all that."
"I process pretty quickly," Adam spoke, quicker than she expected. His eyes were as blue and cold as fjords as he regarded her quietly for another moment.
She felt uncomfortable under his gaze, uncrossing her legs and crossing the other way, fidgeting with her nails. Was he doing this on purpose?
"Do you feel better?"
Was that a trick question?
"Yes, I…well I think I do," Lacey responded uncertainly.
"Anything else you want to say?"
"No," Lacey heard the edge in her voice and felt her blood pressure rise. If he was trying to "lawyer" her, it wasn't going to work. "I'd appreciate it if you'd say something, actually. Anything so I know you're actually a living, breathing person."
"Right. Then I'll say this." Adam replied in a measured voice. "Even after giving me back the promise ring that morning at my house, effectively sending me into a tailspin that damn near wrecked my junior year, I was ready to go out that very weekend in Albany and buy you an actual engagement ring. I thought I had you back for good, and would have probably put down my hockey stick right then and there if it meant you were ready to commit again. And yeah, maybe I would have resented you for it later, like you said the first time I offered to quit, but that should tell you just how much I–" he stopped abruptly, as though unwilling or unable to say the words that would come next.
She stared at him. "Really? You were ready to do that…?"
"Yeah, I was. But it's a good damn thing I didn't, huh?"
Lacey took a slow, deep breath, trying to figure out what to say back after this revelation. "Adam, I was young. And incredibly stupid. If I'd have played the tape all the way through in my head, I would have known going to Albany after we broke up wasn't smart. I…I guess I rationalized the guilt by telling myself you knew we were just…"
"Fooling around?" His eyebrows arched.
"...Finding comfort in each other, like I said," Lacey corrected, feeling defensive. "It was all too easy to fall back into the way we'd always been with one another, and I guess it proved what I knew all along: that exes could never be friends. But I was stupid, okay? You remember what it was like to be young and foolish, don't you? Or, well, maybe not. You were always nice and responsible. Can we not call it even? I did what I did, and you wrecked your body playing hockey. We wanted what we wanted and didn't think about the future. I mean, we never once talked about the nature of our relationship that weekend and just went on assumptions. Both of us did. Sure, I made my mistake and didn't stop the intimacy, knowing it wouldn't go further, but Adam, you didn't either. You never asked to actually talk before we ended up in bed. So I get it that I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't done it, but I did. But you can't blame all of this on me when you were clearly going on your own hunches."
"Lacey, did you really think I was going to stop it once it started? Yeah, okay, I admit it. I was still hot for you. But at the same time, I…" he trailed off again, rubbing his forehead tiredly, and Lacey saw it finally–the sheer hurt in his eyes that had likely been stuffed down in his soul for years. It was as though he'd stored the entire thing up and it had festered like an infected wound for well over a decade.
Suddenly they were again the twenty-one year-olds they had been in 2001. Their heated conversation had never been finished.
"You know what, it doesn't matter now." Adam scooted to the edge of the couch as though he was going to stand up.
"I didn't know it would hurt you so badly that you'd never speak to me again, never want anything to do with me," Lacey softened her voice.
"Well, you should have." His eyes flashed. "For all your therapy, social work and psychology classes and theories about why people think and act the way they do. You always loved spewing those off."
The remark angered Lacey. "What was that for? Are you poking at my anxiety again, Adam? You clearly never got it. Nobody ever did, but I expected more out of you. I still don't know why you're making me out to be the villain of this whole thing."
"Hey. You wanted to talk it through, get closure. I'm doing just that for you. Clarifying what it was like for me. Sorry if you can't handle it." Adam's smartass tone made Lacey want to slap him.
She wasn't going to let him sit here and make her out to be some cruel human being. So, moving on from Albany, she threw politeness out the window and whipped out the next matter of business. "Well, if we're talking about how we hurt each other here, how about this one: you spite me by sending me my promise ring back right after I got married. Really, Adam? What was that, you trying to make me pay?"
"I told you why I did it! I didn't want it anymore, but I couldn't think of what to do with it. So I just gave it back because it…it seemed like the thing to do. Then you could do with it what you wanted..." Adam faltered during his tirade, but quickly recovered. "And yeah, I gave it to you right after your wedding. That was a poor decision on my part. But I wasn't trying to 'make you pay'," he used air quotes.
"Oh, I think you were," Lacey snorted, feeling her blood surge, sure her cheeks were scarlet by now. "You just don't want to admit it to yourself. You want to hide behind this snide facade, acting like everything that went wrong with us was because of me and my decisions. Must I remind you again, Adam? I was twenty-one years old. I guess I expected more maturity and sharper hindsight out of somebody who's so smart. When I ran into you at that business dinner and then again at the coffee shop, you'd think I was just some dumb, pitiful nobody you barely knew."
"Do you think I want to be this way with you?" Adam shot back. "You think it's easy for me? I have to fight hard to keep you out of my head, out of my life. Because it still hurts. Okay? After fifteen years. You shouldn't have expected we could have a pleasant, charming conversation and I'd forgive you so we could just go on with our lives."
"Yes, I did expect that! It was naive, yes, but…" she let out a mirthless laugh, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "I guess it was another of my hairbrained schemes, huh? Like Albany." Lacey's voice quietened. "I guess I did want to absolve myself. I wanted to apologize, and let you say your piece, which you most certainly have. But isn't it a good thing in the long run, Adam, that I came to my senses and ended it before it started again? Didn't that save us an even bigger heartache? Part of me did want us together again after that night. But then I realized it was all the same thing. You were still addicted to hockey. It was your one dream, but it had effectively torn us apart."
"Lacey, you were my dream," Adam leaned forward, seeking her eyes again. His were still hard and shining with anger, but now also misty.
Lacey went quiet, feeling pressure building behind her own eyes. This was not going well at all, and he was right. It was naive of her to think it would. But what he just said absolutely ripped her heart in half.
He stood up. "I've…I've got to go. But for the record, let me just say. If you think I'm heartless, then you don't know me at all. And all the things you said to me after that last night, when we got into that fight–do you think I forgot them? Just so you know, I laid in bed for an entire week after you left, unable to move and barely able to breathe. So if you wonder why I have so much resentment toward you, why I bristle when I see you, hear your voice, hear your name…then there it is. I hope you get it now."
She swallowed, staring up at him quietly for a moment. "I loved you, Adam. And I wasn't perfect. But I did the best I could for being a flawed human being. If that makes me a bad person, this big heartbreaker you've had to run from all your life, well…"
He looked down at his keys, which he'd fished out of his pocket, but she was determined to beat him to the punch, getting up and heading down the hall and for the door. She could feel her entire chest ache from the tension in her body, and was afraid this might be a night for hair pulling–which she'd not done in months. Burning up hot, despite the cold that was already snaking its way through the closed door, Lacey jerked up her sleeves. No, this had definitely not been worth the emotional torture she'd just been forced to undergo.
She pulled open the door. What she'd just displayed was the last tender compassion toward Adam she would be showing. How dare he act like she was solely responsible for screwing up his emotions?
"Here. You can go. Thank you for coming. Your scarf and coat are behind the door."
He had followed her down the hall, and now slowly went over to retrieve them as she kept her eyes cast down. After he donned them, he came to the door, standing just inches from her. That's when she looked up and noticed his eyes were on her wrists.
Oh no. Not that.
He would definitely not get an explanation for the scars on her wrists that stood out, a glaring purple when her skin became cold.
Adam surprised her by reaching out and tenderly taking one of her wrists, narrowing his eyes to have a closer look.
What was he thinking? Flustered, Lacey put her arm down and pulled her sleeves over her wrists. "It was from years ago when I was in a bad place after my divorce. It has nothing to do with you. Now please. You wanted to leave, then go ahead."
He studied her eyes a moment before she shifted them away again, uncomfortable. She didn't need his pity for anything, but least of all for the harrowing depths to which her mental health had descended after her marriage dissolved.
Finally, blessedly, he moved past her into the snowy night. He turned once, maybe to say something, or maybe to shoot her another of his condescending looks. Either way, she would never know, because she closed the door.
/
Adam wanted just a few things right now:
A hot shower, a beer, and Better Call Saul or Bloodline. What he did not want was more pain: either emotional or physical, as the freezing cold Minnesota weather was already causing him to flair.
Just after the move to Albany came the big nationwide crackdown on narcotics. What resulted from this was Adam's removal from a couple of the pain medications he'd relied on for years, which sent his pain level soaring to unprecedented heights one summer. He'd spent a couple of nights in the ER with pain so severe he'd been administered some medication through an IV, while the doctor sent him home with yet more Ibuprofen. As if something as mild as Ibuprofen was going to help this debilitating agony.
However, his rheumotologist had been proactive in finding alternative treatments (not that, she'd reminded Adam on several occasions, pain medicine ever treated the actual problem), and settled on a class of drugs that was newly emerging, designed to both control pain and slow down inflammation. After some trial and error, they had finally found one that worked, but that Adam had to inject on a weekly basis. This, coupled with another arthritis medication, a pain rub and large amounts of folic acid which helped wipe out the brain fog he was afflicted with when he first started the new meds, had kept things mostly manageable. The doctor did caution him he'd be more at risk for certain infections, and sure enough, throughout the winter months he often kept upper respiratory infections, though thankfully this winter hadn't yielded many as yet, which Adam couldn't be more grateful for. He knew that while he was home, his mom would do nothing but agonize over his coughing, fussing over him like a mother hen.
Adam had had his condition on his mind for months, trying to shove it out with thoughts of work. But the fact was, as slowly as it progressed, his RA was progressing, and with it he would have to make lifestyle changes.
"Which means," Dr. Staynor had informed him gently, "you may want to reconsider your decision to keep playing hockey."
It was heartbreaking for him. He'd stayed away from the game for a long decade before finally allowing himself to enjoy it again. But he had waited too long. Because if he continued to put pressure on his joints the way he was, replacement surgery was awaiting him in the near future. And at thirty-six, he felt far too young to undergo a procedure mostly assigned to fifty and sixty year olds. This meant he may be facing his last season (or next to the last, he kept trying to bargain with himself) of playing hockey.
"Hey, you could coach!" Mendoza had tried to bolster his mood when he relayed his news to his friend. "You have plenty of know-how, and that way you can still be involved in hockey without actually playing."
But the very idea of coaching had caused him to grimace. He loved his brother's children and had wanted his own, but he wasn't sure how well he'd be at keeping other people's in line. And he knew he could play hockey, but wasn't sure he could teach it.
"I don't know, man, maybe I should just call it a day on the whole thing. I had good times, but everything's got to end eventually, right?" Adam had responded to Mendoza's idea.
Mendoza had merely shrugged. "Won't know til you try. If you change your mind and want to move back to NYC, my kid's team needs a coach."
As if Adam would move back to NYC after settling in Albany. This new place was much more Adam's speed, and he'd come to feel at home in his grandfather's house, now his very own. It was too big for him, but better a big house in the suburbs than a cramped apartment in the city.
It was these things that had occupied Adam's mind…until now. Thanks to Lacey.
He had gone to her house impatient to get the discussion over with. The impatience turned to anger soon thereafter, when he was forced to rehash the things that had broken his heart many years ago but which he'd never allowed himself to think about in detail before. But the anger gave way to something else just as soon as he'd seen the marks on Lacey's wrists. Wrist scars like that were indicative of one very obvious thing.
They had glared an angry purple–a series of what looked like stab marks across her wrist and upper arm. He knew she'd never had them before, so this had to have happened sometime over the past decade. How long ago, he wondered? And why had she done it?
Adam knew that psychological issues had long plagued his ex. But he'd not thought about that in a long time and was stunned to see the evidence that things had gotten much worse. Part of him, out of some residual–something–from the past had caused him to instinctively reach out to take her arm and pull it in closely to examine it. But she had pulled back before he'd had the chance, and it was a good thing she did. He didn't need to muddy the waters further by slipping and doing something so intimate.
Well. He wanted to be finished thinking about it for the night, though he had the sinking feeling he wasn't. He did, however, want to bypass entering through the front door of his house to instead go behind it and climb the stairs directly to the guest apartment in order to avoid either of his parents. Adam had no desire to talk to anyone else tonight.
Heaving a big sigh, Adam let himself into his apartment, turned on the lights, and headed straight for the fridge after taking off his coat. But he was dismayed to realize there was no more beer up here. That would mean he needed to go downstairs.
Adam headed down the stairs, hearing the TV in his parents' room, which probably meant they were in there for the rest of the night. Quietly, he made his way down to the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a couple of cans of beer to take back up with him. But, of course, there was none left.
That's when his mother entered the kitchen. "Oh! Hi, Honey. I was just coming in to make my tea." She headed for the kettle just as Adam practically slammed the door to the fridge.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Didn't mean to push it that hard."
But his mom could see through anything. "That bad, huh?" she inquired gently.
His mom had known he was going to see Lacey. He had offered few details to her, only that he had run into her in the coffee shop and that he was going to meet her to talk. When he'd told his mom this, he'd secretly hoped she might have a word of advice for him on how to approach the situation. But instead, she'd only remarked, "Be honest. That's the best way to go."
So given the fact that he had been meeting Lacey at seven and it was now only eight thirty, he was sure she could surmise that it had not gone so great.
Adam shrugged. "I guess it went as well as it could have. I mean, she told me her view of it, I told her mine, we both blamed each other for a whole bunch of stuff, I got up to leave and she opened the door all too willingly. Total waste of time." He found himself opening the fridge yet again in order to find something, anything, to ease his mind.
"I'm sorry." His mom leaned against the counter as her water heated up. "You know, I think what you both are looking for is a way to make it better. You want the pain to go away. But the fact is, it might not. It might always be a sore spot for the two of you, and it's probably best if you stop looking for a way to make it magically disappear."
Adam noticed his shoulders were cramping terribly, and instead of answering his mother, he busied himself doing a muscle tense and release exercise in order to loosen up a bit. "I need a massage," he changed the subject.
"Book one. I can tell you're tense," his mother supplied.
"Mom?" Adam gave up on trying to find something he wanted to eat or drink and let the fridge door close again. "Do you ever talk to Darlene anymore?"
"Occasionally," his mom replied with a smile. "You know, in spite of the way she behaves sometimes, she really is a very caring, good woman."
But Darlene wasn't necessarily what Adam wanted to talk about. "Did she ever say anything about Lacey self-harming, or was there a suicide attempt at some point?"
He felt his heart begin to race when his mother's expression darkened slightly. She turned to her kettle, which now was whistling, and took it off the burner as she readied her tea bag. "It's not really my story to tell, Adam."
"Maybe not, Mom. But I need to know. I saw the scars." Adam took a few steps toward her.
She poured the steaming water in her mug without looking back at him. "She was in the hospital for a week after her divorce because…well, you saw." His mom took a deep breath and turned back to him with a troubled expression. "The divorce wasn't…a pleasant one. Or rather, what led up to it certainly wasn't."
Adam waited, giving his mom the indication he wasn't going anywhere until he knew the whole story.
"Her husband got another woman pregnant." She leaned against the counter again, allowing her tea to cool slightly. "And that's all I feel comfortable saying. I was frankly surprised Darlene told me even that much. She's got alot of pride and is pretty private, you know. But I think the day we discussed it, right after Lacey had been taken to the psychiatric ward, she just needed to unload."
Adam stared at his mother for a full, silent minute before he could speak. "Are you…are you serious?"
"Yes, Adam. Why would I make that up?"
He thought back to the EMBP dinner a few years ago, and remembered what it had been like at Jeff's table. The obnoxious personality, the charm he was laying on left and right…
If only he could go back in time, it all would have ended that night.
Come with me, he now saw himself pleading after colliding with Lacey in that hallway. Don't go back in there, don't waste another day of your life with him.
But with all the anger he'd carried around toward Lacey over the last decade, would she have listened? Or for that matter, would he actually have said that at all?
Yes. A resounding yes was the answer in Adam's head. If he'd had any idea the man was cheating, or about to cheat on her and drag her through an agonizing divorce, he absolutely would have.
"Son?" His mom's voice broke in.
He looked back to his mother. "And so…" he swallowed hard. "He left her?"
"She left him, I think. Why don't you grab some tea too, and we can sit down and talk." Before he could protest, she added, "Not about Lacey if you don't want to. I want to hear about work, and hockey, and just how you're doing."
"Mom, I just…" he reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I want to talk to you about those things. Really. But I don't think I can right now."
She watched him for a moment before smiling. "It's okay. We've got plenty of time before you go back. Raincheck?"
"Raincheck," he winked at her, then turned back to head up to the apartment, heartsick the whole way.
He'd been hard on Lacey, and he'd known it the whole evening. Yes, it was true that just even thinking about, reliving, what had happened in Albany evoked emotions strong enough to practically put him back in his twenty-one-year-old body. But he should have watched his tone, reminded himself that this was over. Truly over, not the "pretend" over he'd been living for years. Why couldn't he have just forgiven her? Said it to her aloud? No ifs, ands, or buts.
Adam ran a hot shower as soon as he reached his bathroom, feeling the ache of muscle and bone and the pain of guilt in his heart. Sure, she'd shattered him when she jerked him around in Albany. But she didn't need to pay for that forever, and it was wrong of Adam to have ever thought she should.
And so, it was while standing there letting the hot water rain down upon his back, the warm steam giving off a cleansing effect, that Adam whispered, "I forgive you. Please…forgive me, too."