Page 14 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
Adam’s lips twitch. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” I admit. “I’m also exhausted and we haven’t unpacked the kitchen.”
Adam reaches for his phone. “Chinese? There’s a place a few blocks away that delivers.”
“Perfect.”
As Adam calls in our order, I survey the chaos around us. Boxes everywhere, furniture haphazardly arranged, the beginnings of a home but not quite there yet.
“Food will be here in thirty minutes,” Adam says, putting his phone down. He looks at me. “You doing okay?”
I nod, not entirely truthfully. “Just tired. And maybe a little scared.”
“Scared?” He steps closer, concern replacing the frustration in his eyes. “Of what?”
“This.” I gesture around us. “Us. What if we drive each other crazy? What if I can’t stand the way you load the dishwasher, or you hate the way I leave half drunk cups of coffee everywhere?”
A smile tugs at his mouth. “I already hate how you leave half drunk cups of coffee everywhere.”
“See?” I throw up my hands. “It’s starting already.”
He laughs then, a deep, genuine laugh that breaks through the tension. “Caitlin, every couple argues about this stuff. It’s normal.”
“I know, but—” I hesitate, not sure how to explain the knot of anxiety in my chest. “What if normal isn’t enough? What if we’re not enough?”
Adam’s face softens. He closes the distance between us, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”
I do, meeting his dark eyes.
“We’re going to argue about stupid stuff like where the couch should go. We’re going to drive each other crazy sometimes. That’s just how it works.” His thumbs rub gentle circles on my shoulders. “But at the end of the day, I’d rather argue with you than get along with anyone else. That’s how I know this is right.”
The knot in my chest loosens a little. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.” He presses a kiss to my forehead.
Neither of us have the energy to clear the boxes off the table so we end up sitting side by side on the kitchen floor, surrounded by boxes, passing cartons of lo mein and kung pao chicken back and forth.
We eat in comfortable silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the city filtering through the open windows along with a cooler evening breeze.
“You know what this kitchen needs?” I say suddenly, setting down my carton.
“What’s that?”
“Music.” I reach for my phone, scrolling through until I find the perfect song—something slow and sweet, with just enoughrhythm to dance to. The first notes fill our empty apartment, bouncing off the bare walls.
I stand, holding out my hand to Adam. “Dance with me.”
He looks up at me, surprise in his eyes. “Here? Now?”
“Yes, here. Yes, now.” I wiggle my fingers at him. “Come on, Kelley. Show me what you’ve got.”
He sets his food aside and takes my hand, letting me pull him to his feet. “I should warn you, I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I,” I say, placing his hands on my waist and looping mine around his neck. “But that’s not the point.”
We sway together in the middle of our half-unpacked kitchen, surrounded by boxes and the remnants of our meal. Adam pulls me closer, and I rest my head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.
“So,” he murmurs into my hair, “couch under the windows, huh?”
