Aching for Adam

Chapter 13

I made it to the pharmacy a few minutes before it closed. I'd chosen one outside of town. I wasn't sure why—maybe I just felt better about it. For some reason, it felt like I was doing something wrong. I was terrified of bumping into someone I knew while holding a pregnancy test in my hands.

I wandered through half the aisles before finding them, then froze, staring at the endless boxes. Overwhelmed. I had no idea what to pick.

What am I doing here? Am I actually possibly pregnant? With Adam's baby? How did I get here?

My breathing quickened. I knew I had to calm down before I spiraled into a full-on panic attack.

"It's just a test," I whispered to myself. "I'm probably just late. It's happened before. It's fine."

I fanned myself with my hand—until I heard a soft chuckle behind me.

"Kind of confusing, right?"

I froze. My stomach dropped. I knew that voice instantly. Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I cursed myself for not sticking to my usual pharmacy. Slowly, I turned around.

"Suz, hey," I said, forcing a brightness I didn't feel.

Uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Suzie knew things hadn't been going well with Rick, so the idea of me being pregnant could only feel awkward, not exciting. What she didn't realize—and what no one could possibly know—was that if I was pregnant, the baby wouldn't be Rick's at all. It would be Adam's. Adam was private, and I was almost certain he hadn't told anyone about our night together.

"What are you doing all the way down here?" she asked gently, pity softening her tone.

"I, uh—I had a client meeting at the café down the street and figured I'd stop in." My words tumbled out too fast. "How was the honeymoon?"

"Amazing. We really had a great time," she said, adding details about Fiji that I tried to focus on. But all I could think about was how to escape this aisle with some shred of dignity. Could I claim I was buying a test for a friend? Pretend I was looking at something else nearby? Nothing sounded convincing.

"Here, this one," she said suddenly, holding up a box. "It's the one I used when I thought I was pregnant last year." Her smile was half-hearted.

"Thanks." I swallowed. "Uh, look—I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone. I don't want to make things awkward." It was a long shot, but maybe she wouldn't suspect anything.

"Of course, Elle. I just want you to know I'm here for you, even if we don't see each other as much. Anything you need, just let me know." She gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thanks, Suz. I'm probably just late." My chuckle came out thin, unconvincing.

I needed to leave.

"Anyway, I'll just go with this one." I grabbed the box she'd pointed out and headed for the register. "Have a good night."

"Elle—" she called, but I was already gone.

I paid and bolted, gunning it home as fast as I could.

ADAM

After Jasmine left, I hadn't bothered to clean the apartment. At all. It had been weeks. 

Today felt like the day to finally do it. A spring cleaning. Get rid of any trace of her and maybe I could pretend it never happened. Move on. Harsh, maybe—but easier.

Not that there was anywhere I wanted to go except back to Elle.

The voice in my head reminded me: I'd left her after our night together, without so much as a goodbye. Pathetic. I'd told myself it was because she said her boyfriend's name in her sleep. But she had just spent the night with me, giving herself to me again and again, for fuck's sake.

The truth was uglier: I couldn't face the chance of getting hurt again. The gaping hole she'd left in me never healed. Not even a little.

I regretted not going after her. Always had. Not following, not even trying. It had been a great opportunity for her, sure—but I hadn't even considered moving. Too stubborn, too comfortable. Pettily angry that she'd chosen her job over me. And by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late.

I could have quit. Found another finance job near her. I wasn't tied to my work. I liked it, but it wasn't a dream. I just... hadn't done it.

Instead, I tried to move on. A string of women I compared to her. None of them measured up. Then Jasmine—good woman, steady, someone I thought could help me let go. But I never really did. The regret never left.

And now? Now I actually had a second chance—and I was blowing it. Again.

I pulled open the drawer of my bedside table, clearing out junk. My hand stilled on a small box. My chest squeezed tight. I opened it.

The ring shimmered in the light. My grandmother's ring.

She had given it to me after a single month of dating Elle. She told me that the way I looked at her was the same way my grandfather once looked at her. She'd slipped it off her own finger, tears in her eyes, and pressed it into my hand, saying it would bring us luck. She died a year later, never seeing it on Elle's finger.

I'd been planning to give it to Elle the night she told me about the job. But when she shared her news first, I froze. It hadn't felt right. Especially when I sensed she might be leaving me. So I held back.

Looking back, that was the moment I should have done it. Engagement would have bound us, forced us to fight harder instead of letting go.

Stupid. That was the word I'd carried with me ever since.

I clenched the ring in my hand.

I'd be damned if I let her slip away again. Not this time.

The thought surprised me. I'd never been the possessive type. But losing her had burned something into me: she was mine, always had been.

I'd promised myself long ago that if I ever got another chance, I wouldn't waste it.

And now, as the resolve surged through me, I leapt to my feet, ring in hand.

I had to see her. Now.