Page 59 of Love, Second Chances and Other Nonsense
“Stronger,” I say without hesitation. “Bourbon, if you’ve got it.”
“Coming right up.” He positions himself between me and the rest of the room, his back to Millie as he pours. “How’s work?” he asks, though I get the feeling he doesn’t care about the answer. It’s just noise to fill the space.
“Fine,” I say, accepting the glass he hands me. “Busy time of year.”
Lauren catches my eye from across the room, where she’s sitting with Jake on the loveseat. She gives me a small, encouraging smile. I return it, drawing strength from our shared secret. Jake nods at me, a solidarity I never expected but deeply appreciate.
“Adam,” my mother’s voice cuts through the momentary peace. “Come say hello to Rhonda and Millie.”
I take a fortifying sip of bourbon before turning. My mother stands with her arm linked through Rhonda’s, both women watching me with expectant smiles. Millie hovers next to them, looking both hopeful and nervous.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, keeping my distance. “Nice to see you all.”
“Oh, get over here and give me a proper hug,” Rhonda insists, breaking away from my mother to engulf me in a cloud of floral perfume. “We’ve missed you so much.”
Over her shoulder, I see Millie waiting her turn, and something cold slides down my spine. The last time she touched me was on the cruise, when she pressed herself against me and kissed me. The memory still makes me feel vaguely ill.
Rhonda releases me, but before Millie can move in, my father appears at my side again. “Adam,” he says, his voice jovial but his eyes serious, “Lauren was just telling me about that property on Maple Street. The one with the frozen pipes?”
It’s a lifeline, and I grab it. “Right, yes. We should probably discuss that.”
I allow my father to lead me over to Lauren and Jake, feeling Millie’s disappointed gaze boring into my back. Something’s off about my father today. This protective hovering isn’t like him at all. Usually, he’s content to let my mother orchestrate her little schemes without interference.
“Thanks,” I mutter as we reach the loveseat.
He just nods, his expression unreadable.
Lauren gives me a knowing look. “That wasn’t very subtle,” she says, her voice too low for anyone else to hear.
“Better than the alternative,” I reply, settling into the armchair beside them.
My father excuses himself, returning to his own seat where Hailey perches on the arm, tapping away at her phone. She looks up as my father sits, her eyes finding mine across the room.
“So, Adam,” she calls, loud enough to ensure everyone hears, “first Christmas as a single guy, huh? How’s that going for you?”
The room goes quiet. I feel several pairs of eyes on me: my mother’s, calculating; Millie’s, hopeful; my father’s, concerned.
“The woman I wanted to marry dumped me, Hailey,” I reply, the words bitter on my tongue. “How do you think I’m doing?”
“Geez, you don’t have to be so gloomy,” Hailey presses, with a glint in her eye that reminds me uncomfortably of our mother. “If you’re lonely, there’s plenty of people here who would be happy to keep you company and distract you.” Her gaze flicks meaningfully toward Millie.
“Hailey,” my father says, his tone sharp. “That’s enough.”
I stare at him, surprised. My father rarely contradicts anyone, least of all his daughters or wife. He’s always been the peacemaker, content to let others set the agenda while he follows along. But there’s an edge to him today that I don’t recognize.
“I was just saying,” Hailey mutters, returning to her phone.
An uncomfortable silence descends, broken only when my mother claps her hands together. “Well, why don’t we enjoy some appetizers before dinner? Rhonda, will you help me bring out the trays?”
As my mother and Rhonda head toward the kitchen, Millie makes her move. She crosses the room with determined steps, sinking into the chair next to mine. “Hi,” she says softly. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
I take another sip of bourbon, letting the burn distract me from the irritation rising in my chest. “I’ve been busy,” I say, not looking at her.
“Too busy to return a call?” Her hand lands on my arm, her fingers curling around my wrist. “Adam, I’ve been so worried about you. After what happened on the cruise—”
“Nothing happened on the cruise,” I interrupt, pulling my arm away. “Nothing is going to happen, Millie, ever. I thought I made that clear.”
Her face falls, those familiar blue eyes filling with tears. It’s a look I’ve seen a thousand times, one that used to send me rushing to fix whatever was wrong. Now it just makes me tired.
