Aching for Adam

Chapter 12

"So, how've you been?" Tam smiled at me, pity etched on her features as if I might shatter into pieces at any moment. But I was fine.

We were at our favorite coffee shop down the road from her apartment. She had been waiting at our usual window table with our usual order: a vanilla coffee with an extra shot or two of espresso, topped with some kind of fancy non-dairy milk foam. I never knew exactly what was in it—Tam just ordered ahead because I was never on time, no matter how hard I tried.

The day Rick and I broke up, I'd spent it with Tam, filling her in on everything that had happened, from Adam to Rick. She hadn't said much for hours, just let me pour my heart out. I thought she would be shocked, but she wasn't. Apparently, she had expected some version of it—just maybe not compressed into twenty-four hours.

As always, she had been supportive, making me feel better about the whole mess. "Elle, you need to let yourself breathe, and live a little," she'd said then, voice serious.

But after Rick left for good and I returned to a half-empty apartment, I had cried until my eyes were raw. I'd given him four years of my life and he was gone at an hour's notice. I wasn't just upset—I was exhausted from the emotional roller coaster and scared of the unknown ahead. I had been fragile, very fragile. But not anymore. 

Two weeks had passed, and I hadn't seen Tamara since. That was probably why she was looking at me like a china doll in the middle of an earthquake.

"Tam, I'm fine. Quit looking at me like that. Really." I placed my hand over hers, hoping my tone sounded sincere.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I just want to make sure you're okay. It's a lot to take in." She smiled softly.

"I know, but I'm telling you. It was just one night with... Adam, and well, I know I made the right decision about Rick." I sipped my coffee.

"Okay, I'll pretend you didn't look like a kid who just lost their puppy when you said Adam's name, and let you continue to think you're not hurt that he hasn't tried to contact you." Her fake smile only made her words sting more.

She wasn't wrong. I did have unresolved feelings for Adam. It didn't help that we'd had one incredible night and then he left without so much as a goodbye. The thought of it still brought a lump to my throat.

I probably deserved worse. I had been the one to leave him four years ago. Leaving the man of my dreams for work seemed insane now, but back then, it had felt like the logical choice.

I had been offered a dream job at a high-profile architectural firm, with an unbelievable salary. A stepping stone. Taking it had given me the skills to manage a team, to see how to grow a business—and how not to. Without it, I wouldn't be where I was today.

But I had resented Adam for not moving with me. Yes, he loved his job, yes, I was asking him to leave friends and family, but he hadn't even considered it. Say what you want about Rick, at least he had followed me when I moved back home.

Adam had done the right thing for himself, and I couldn't blame him. But he couldn't blame me for leaving either.

Still, guilt lingered. Because work wasn't everything. I realized too late that I could have found another way to chase my career without leaving the love of my life behind.

And long distance? Never an option. I had tried twice before, and both times had been disastrous.

I snapped back to reality. "Look, it sucks, sure. But it is what it is, Tam. There's nothing I can do. I'm not going to chase after him, not after he left me like that."

"You're right, sweetie. I'm sorry." She smiled apologetically.

I looked down at my phone. Two weeks, and not a single message.

"I just need to move on, and focus on work for a while," I said, trying to convince myself as much as her.

"Hey, I have someone I can set you up with now that you're single," Tam said, eyes lighting up.

"Tam." I shot her a warning glare. She backed down, chuckling.

Single. The word clanged inside my head. I hated the sound of it.

Chasing away the thought, I wrapped up our chat and headed home, glum about having to move on.

The next morning, I grabbed a coffee before sitting at my desk. Work had been a blessing the past month—nonstop, leaving me little time to think about Adam. I didn't miss Rick at all. Coming home to an empty apartment was liberating. I had spent evenings redecorating, refurnishing, reshaping the space into something that finally felt like mine.

I had a new routine, one that was one hundred percent my own. For the first time in years, I was starting to feel genuinely happy.

Things were good.

And work—work was great, as always. Every day brought new challenges. It was rewarding, energizing—

I lurched forward and grabbed the garbage can just in time to throw up.

"Ugh. What the hell?"

I wiped my mouth as Tiffany rushed in. "Boss, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Tiff, sorry about that," I groaned.

"What? Don't apologize." She darted out, returning a minute later with a damp washcloth and her daily ginger smoothie. "Take this. I haven't touched it yet, promise. It'll help." Her toothy grin was impossible not to return, even faintly.

"Thanks," was all I managed. Normally I'd argue, tell her to keep it, but I couldn't. I sat back, pressing the washcloth to my face. That was when I realized—half the office had seen me. My "glass box" of an office gave me no privacy, and now everyone was watching, offering awkward smiles.

Great.

I escaped outside with the trash, ignoring Tiffany's insistence she do it. There were limits to what an assistant should do, and besides, the fresh air helped.

I sank onto a bench, let the sun warm my face. I hated being sick. Not that anyone liked it, but vomiting was my personal worst. I avoided anything that might cause it: drinking, sketchy restaurants, food past its date.

If you can't fix it, make sure it doesn't happen again, I always said. So what had caused this? 

I pulled out my phone and did a quick Google search. 

Indigestion? Unlikely. Same breakfast every day.
Food poisoning? No.
Motion sickness? No.
Emotional stress? Didn't feel like it.
Pregn—

I gasped.

"Don't panic. No need to panic," I whispered. 

But my period was almost two weeks late. With everything that had happened, I hadn't even realized until now. 

I hadn't slept with Rick in months.

"Oh my gosh. Adam."

If I was pregnant, it would be Adam's. There was no doubt.

"Calm down," I whispered again, though my voice shook.

I walked back inside, gathered my things with trembling legs, and told Tiffany I needed the rest of the day off. After vomiting into my trash can, no one was going to question it.