Page 87 of The Law of Attraction
That was why it hurt so much to find out he’d gone to Gavin behind her back. To be reminded of how strong his dislike of her had been, and how little he’d cared for her feelings.
Adam had changed his mind about her so fast—in just a couple of days. It was too fast. If he could do a complete one-eighty that easily, what was stopping him from doing it again?
Would he realize in another week he didn’t like her so much after all?
Olivia sat up and leaned across the bed for a tissue. After she’d finished blowing her nose, she reached for her phone, intending to call Penny. But it was the middle of the day, and even though she teleworked, Penny still had to actually do work when she was supposed to be working. Plus, Olivia hadn’t talked to Penny all week, so she’d have to start from the very beginning of the story. She’d have to explain how she and Adam had gotten together before she could explain why she was upset now.
The thought of it exhausted her. She wasn’t up to that much talking right now. She wasn’t up to anything.
Instead of calling her best friend, she switched her phone to Do Not Disturb and climbed under the covers to take a nap.
When Olivia woke a few hours later, it felt like her eyelids had been welded shut. She’d fallen asleep with her makeup on—after crying half of it down her face—which she never, ever did.
She pushed herself upright and groaned when she saw she’d gotten smears of black eyeliner and dark red lipstick all over her pillowcase. A halo of yellow-orange light glowed around the blinds in her bedroom. It was nearly evening; she’d slept away the whole day.
Feeling like she’d been hit by a truck, she went into the bathroom and scrubbed her face clean. Her skin looked raw and ruddy in the bathroom mirror. The skin under her eyes was so translucent they looked hollow and sunken, like a skeleton.
She hadn’t just fallen asleep in her makeup, she’d fallen asleep in her work clothes. Her bra was like a band of nails around her rib cage and her shirt had turned into sandpaper. She clawed at the offending garments, stripping them off like they were trying to kill her.
Her suitcase lurked in a corner of her bedroom, still waiting to be unpacked, so she dug through her dresser until she found an old T-shirt and a pair of plaid boxer shorts she’d had since college.
In the kitchen, she was confronted by the remnants of the takeout she and Adam had ordered last night, and it felt like a punch to the chest. Ignoring the mess and the pain in her heart, she poured herself a glass of water and guzzled the whole thing down.
She’d just started cleaning up the takeout containers when there was a knock on the door. That was when she remembered her phone was still on Do Not Disturb—and discovered all the text messages from Adam she’d missed.
I’m sorry.
Are you okay?
Are you there?
Are you ignoring me?
Olivia, please.
I’m coming over, okay?
I hope it’s okay because I’m on my way to your place right now.
She wasn’t sure what to expect as she went to answer the door. Would he be angry? Worried? Relieved? Happy to see her?
The one thing she hadn’t envisioned was what she got: total blankness.
His face betrayed no detectable emotion. He stood on her doorstep wearing an expressionless mask, the one he used at work and around people he didn’t want to engage with.
It hurt. She felt it like a needle sliding between her ribs—and not a tiny little flu shot needle you could barely feel, but a big-ass scary needle, like the one they used on Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction.
But even while it was hurting her, she felt a little twinge of familiarity. This was the Adam she remembered, the one she’d known for the two years before last week. Oh, hello, she thought. There you are. You’re still in there after all.
He was still capable of being that Adam with her, rather than her Adam.
But then he spoke, and his voice was so quiet and unsteady she knew it was all an act. He was hiding behind his mask, pretending not to feel anything, but the emotions were leaking out through his voice.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” he said, betraying himself. In those six little words she could hear reproach and relief, trepidation and a hint of resentment, and over all of it a layer of exasperation.
“I had my phone off. I was sleeping.”
“Can I come in?”
