Henry heaves a deep sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Are you sure you still want to go to dinner? We can stay at the hotel room and talk. Or we can go home. It’s up to you.”
I shake my head and close my eyes as I lean back against the headrest in the truck. “I don’t want to make any more decisions today. You decide.”
“Okay, we’re going home.”
“No! I want to see Senia tonight. Just go to the hotel and we can hang out there until dinner.”
“Anything you want.”
After we check in at the hotel, we go up to our room and curl up on the bed.
“I want to know what it’s like to not feel lost,” I say as I rest my head on Adam’s shoulder and he strokes my hair.
“I don’t know if anybody ever gets there, but we can try.”
“My mom and I used to play this game whenever someone knocked on our front door. She would face the door while I chose one of three hiding places: under the bed, in the closet, or in the nook between the fridge and the wall. As soon as she got rid of whoever was at the door, she’d come looking for me. If I was hiding in the first place she looked, she got to tickle me. I think of stuff like that then I think of the things Henry just told me and I don’t think I ever knew my mother.”
“None of this has to make any sense to you right now.”
“The thing is, it does make sense. She didn’t want to live. I almost don’t blame her for ending her life after everything she went through.” I curl my fingers around a piece of his shirt and squeeze tightly. “The worst part is that I still want her here. Even after everything I’ve learned today. And part of me knows that if I had been braver, if I had called 9-1-1 right away, she might still be here.”
“You don’t know that. You said it yourself; you don’t blame her after everything she went through. If you had saved her that day, she probably would have found another way to do it.”
I don’t say anything because he’s right. My mother didn’t want to live, not even for me.
“I’m just so angry with her.”
“One thing they taught us in anger management—”
“Oh, no,” I mutter.
He pokes my side and continues his pep talk over my laughter. “Go ahead laugh, but I’m serious. I know you like to meditate, but they taught us in anger management class to let go of the anger by imagining what you would say to the person you’re angry with if you forgave them. What would you say to your mom to let her know you’ve forgiven her?”
I pause for a moment to think about this. There are so many things I’d say to her. I’ve spent countless nights lying in bed unable to sleep as I imagine the conversations we’d have if she were still alive.
I sit up on the bed and cross my legs as if I’m going to meditate. “I would tell her that I love her and that I know she did what she thought she needed to do to make the aching go away. I would tell her that I’m sorry about what happened to her and how I wish I was the one who could have healed her.”
Adam sits up and grabs my hands. “What else?”
“I’d thank her for thinking of my future. I’d thank her for loving me and taking care of me the only way she knew how.” I bite my lip as I look up. Adam’s eyes are completely focused, urging me on. “I’d tell her that I miss her so much.”
He pulls me toward him as I sob into his shoulder. “You’re going to be okay,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead. “Because you have a bigger heart than anyone I’ve ever met. And my mom always says that life is a game and he, or she, who has the biggest heart wins.”
I pull back to look him in the eye. “Thank you for everything. For bringing me here, for making me laugh, for knowing exactly what to say. Thank you for loving me.”
He smiles as he shakes his head. “You’re going to be thanking me for that for a very long time ‘cause you’re never getting rid of me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Relentless Storm
By the time we walk out of the hotel, the rain is pouring onto the streets of downtown Raleigh. We had planned to walk the half-mile to the restaurant, but that’s not going to happen now. Adam finds a place to park in the parking deck on Blount Street and we race through the rain to meet Senia and Eddie. We pass a crowd of people standing outside The Pour House Music Hall waiting to be let in for the next show.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited a couple of my buddies from Duke,” Adam says as he opens the door for me at Bida Manda. “They’re a year younger than me so don’t hesitate to punch them if they come on to you.”
“Isn’t that your job?” I say as we approach the hostess.
“I’m on probation, remember?”
I sigh as I pull my wet hair into a low ponytail. “Why do I always go for the bad boys?”
The hostess leads us to a table and I immediately spot Senia waving at me from the back of the room where they sit at the end of a very long table. She bolts out of her chair and we run to each other as if we haven’t seen each other in four years instead of just four weeks. We hug and I yelp as she lifts me off the floor.
“Happy birthday!” she shouts.
“Save some of that energy for later, sexy,” I say, and she growls as she puts me down.
“You’re just so hard to resist in your wet T-shirt.” She hooks her arm in mine and waves at Adam as she drags me to the table.
Adam’s two friends are there and so is Eddie. Adam and his friends do a secret handshake before he sits on the end of the table next to his buddies and I sit across from him next to Senia.
“Claire, this is Rolly and Ian,” he says, pointing a thumb at Ian next to him.
Rolly is a big guy, possibly taller than Adam and built like a linebacker. Ian is almost as hot as Adam, with his perfectly symmetrical facial features and icy-blue eyes, though he’s a bit scrawnier. By the time dinner arrives, I’ve learned that Rolly and Ian are stepbrothers who also happen to be best friends. Their parents got married ten years ago and now they share a dorm at Duke. Their dorm was next to Adam’s two years ago and they met when Adam punched a hole through their wall.
Rolly’s chubby cheeks plump up as he grins at me. “But he went to anger management so he’s all better now.”
“She already knows about that,” Adam groans as he reaches for his glass of water and pushes it across the table toward me.
This is our routine every time we go out to eat so it’s second nature to him now. I finish the last two gulps in my almost empty glass and accept his glass.
“Yeah, but does she know about the time you threw Mike’s laptop out the window?” Ian asks, his eyebrows perking up.
“Let’s not go into all the shit the Incredible Adam broke in his fits of rage.” Adam shakes his head in a can-you-believe-these-guys expression.
I smile, but I’m silently wondering how he managed to change from being such a tyrant into the person he is now. We’ve been so busy trying to fix me; we haven’t delved enough into his pain.
The rest of the dinner is fun, and I actually have my first sip of alcohol when we all toast to my birthday. The waitress is in a good mood, so she allows me to use my expired ID when Eddie orders us each a champagne cocktail, which is just champagne with a flavored sugar cube.
“To the birthday girl,” Eddie says, raising his glass and we all follow suit.
Adam turns to me. “To the birthday girl. The girl who stole my heart and my water.”
My first sip of alcohol isn’t so bad, but Adam insists I’m not allowed to drink more than one glass. Within two sips, I’m already feeling warm and frisky. I smile at Adam across the table as my foot grazes his shin. His left eyebrow shoots up and I wink at him. He reaches for my drink and slides it across the table so it’s next to his empty bowl.
“I think you should stick to water.” I slide my foot farther up his leg and he grabs it under the table. “Look at the time. We’d better get going before we miss the show.”
After we settle the check, Ian and Rolly
head home and we head next door. The crowd outside The Pour House is thinning as people hustle inside to get the best view of the stage at this intimate music hall. The outside of The Pour House looks like any dive bar. The inside is dark and crowded with some pool tables and standing room only in front of the stage. I’ve been here once before to watch a local indie band called Death Puppy, which turned out to be three nerdy hipsters performing an acoustic set of their mostly electronic music.
“Who’s playing tonight?” I ask as a pushy crowd herds us toward the bar.
“Chris Knight. It’s a secret performance for his local fans.”
Senia and I look at each other and she immediately throws her arm around my shoulder to pull me aside. Eddie and Adam look on from a few yards away in confusion as she presses me up against a wall and gets in my face.
“You can’t freak out, Claire, or he’s going to know. He’s going to know that Chris is your ex and it will all be downhill from there. No guy wants to find out their girlfriend used to be with a fucking rock star. Don’t freak out.”
My heart pounds against my chest, probably dying to get away from the oncoming musical assault. I can barely listen to his songs when they come on the radio or MTV. There is no way I’ll make it through an entire concert of his music while standing just a few feet away from him.
“Are you seriously implying I need to endure the next three hours of torture? No! I want out of here. What if he sees me?”
“Claire?”
The sound of Joanie Tipton’s lazy drawl makes my skin prickle.
“Claire, is that you?”
I turn to my right and Joanie is with Christa Monk and Veronica Evers. I don’t know if Joanie has shared my secret with her two best friends, but the bored looks on their faces tells me she probably hasn’t. My mind flashes quickly to two days after Joanie saw me in the hospital—the day I finally worked up the nerve and energy to go to Joanie’s dorm and beg her not to tell anybody. The truth was, I really didn’t care what Joanie or any of her cronies thought about me. I just didn’t want it to get back to Chris.
“Joanie,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.
“You’re here to see Chris? Are you two back together?”
Christa and Veronica’s eyes widen at this revelation.
“No, we’re not. I was actually just leaving.”
Senia grabs my arm. “No, we’re not. We’re just getting some drinks. Today’s Claire’s twenty-first birthday.”
She casts Joanie a deadly look, daring her to fuck up my birthday. Joanie sighs, already bored with us, when Adam appears at my side.
“Are you okay, babe?” he asks, and Joanie’s eyes light up at the sight of him.
“I’m fine.”
I can’t leave now. Joanie is bound to run onto the stage and scream my secrets into the microphone if we’re not here to stop her. And she’d love to point out to Chris that I’m here with someone else—not that he’d care. I’m sure he’s moved on—many times.
“I think I need a drink,” I say, looking up at Adam.
He scrunches his eyebrows together. “Are you sure?”
I nod. It’s about the only thing I’m sure of right now.
“Enjoy the show, Joanie,” I say as I push Adam toward the bar.
I don’t want to introduce him to Joanie. The last thing I need is for her to pretend she’s drunk so she can accidentally spill some secrets like she did at Senia’s birthday party our freshman year—before I knew Joanie was only pretending to be my friend so she could get close to Chris.
Adam orders us both a beer then glares at me as he leans up against the bar. “Something’s wrong.”
The impulsive side of my brain is screaming at me to just tell him. This night is going to suck whether I tell him or not. The rational side of my brain is begging me to keep my mouth shut. I finally have someone who makes me feel happy; someone who might understand the mistakes I’ve made if I tell him in a more neutral environment. This is definitely not the place to come clean.
“I’m fine. I’m just really excited.” I take a swig of the beer, which is bitter and kind of gross compared to the sweet champagne.
The sound crew finishes setting up the instruments on stage and I can feel the anticipation building in the crowd.
“Let’s go see if we can squeeze in closer to the stage,” he says, grabbing my hand.
“No!” Senia and I shout in unison.
Adam and Eddie glare at us.
“We should stay next to the bar in case Claire wants to get shitfaced for her birthday,” Senia says.
“Yeah, I may want to get shitfaced.”
Adam shakes his head. “You are not getting drunk tonight.”
“It’s my birthday and I’m twenty-one. I think that’s my decision, buddy.”
He frowns at me. He knows something is up. I’m not acting like myself. I set the glass of beer on the counter and flag the bartender down to ask him for some water.
Adam leans close to me, puts his lips next to my ear, and whispers, “Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”
The bartender looks at me and I shout, “A glass of water, please!”
The bartender looks annoyed at my request, but he quickly fills a glass with some ice and water and slides it across to me. I take a long swig, letting the icy liquid cool the spicy food, and the secrets, burning inside me. I don’t feel well.
I turn to Adam and his nose bumps mine. I can feel the heat of his breath on my mouth and I want to kiss him—not just to make him forget about the question he just asked. I want to kiss him to burn the memory of his lips into my brain because I have a bad feeling everything is going to change after tonight.
“Can we talk about it after the show?” I ask, and my stomach clenches as I realize this is not a stall tactic. I’m ready to tell him. I will tell him everything.
He nods then plants a soft kiss on my lips. I set my glass of water down on the bar and throw my arms around his neck. I need to feel his warmth. He wraps his arms around my waist and chuckles in my ear.
The crowd behind me explodes with cheers and applause and I know what I’m going to see if I let go of Adam and turn around. I tighten my grip on his neck as my heart pounds against his.
“Claire, the show’s starting,” he says, his voice strained from how tightly I’m holding onto him.
I finally release my grip and he smiles down at me as he nods toward the stage. I close my eyes as I turn around.
You can do this. Just open your eyes and get it over with.
I slowly open my eyes and there he is.
Chapter Nineteen
Relentless Music
The blue spotlights cast a melancholy glow over the stage as Chris positions himself on his stool in front of the microphone. The drummer behind him is ready to go. It’s Jake. I turn to the guy holding the bass guitar on Chris’s right and I see Tristan. Jake and Tristan are Chris’s old band mates who he basically dumped to go solo last year. It seems they were able to set aside the colossal grudge they’ve been carrying to play this gig.
Chris finally looks up from his guitar and my heart flutters. He looks exactly the same as he did a year ago. The same messy brown hair; the same dark eyes that turn down slightly at the corners, giving him that lost puppy dog look; the same full lips I’ve kissed a million times. I can’t see if he still has the nose piercing, but I can see the light glinting off a new lip piercing. He’s even wearing a ratty black UNC hoodie he wore when we were together. I don’t know why I expected him to look different. I’ve been carefully avoiding his music videos and magazine articles, though I did read the Rolling Stone article only because it was in the employee restroom at the café for weeks and I was feeling a bit masochistic that day.
I glance around the room and everybody is so excited. You can feel the energy in the air shifting, as if everybody in this room is holding their breath waiting for those first few notes. The ticking sound of Jake’s drumsticks tapping the rim of the drum
focus my attention back on the stage.
Finally, Chris brings his lips to the microphone and speaks in that soothing voice with just a hint of a rasp. “What’s up, Raleigh?”
The crowd cheers and some people shout back, “What’s up, Chris?”
I feel as if I’m fifteen again and watching him play on the living room floor for the first time when he played In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel. Chris was always light-years ahead of his band mates—an old soul. He loved classic rock and blues. He made me listen to Miles Davis’ greatest hits over and over until I could name each song just from hearing the first few notes. He was obsessed with music and that obsession made his dreams a reality.
A tear slides down my cheek as my heart swells with pride. I made the right decision breaking up with Chris. If he had stayed in Raleigh, none of this would have been possible.
The first notes of the song play and it’s an up-tempo song about a girl who writes love notes. This song is not about me and, though I know it shouldn’t matter, I really don’t want to imagine it’s about a real person.
Adam slips his arms around my waist and I smile as I lean my back into his chest. He kisses the top of my head as the song changes and I hear the first few notes of “Sleepyhead.” I clench my teeth together and take a deep breath. If I can make it through this, I can make it through the rest of the night. Adam deserves it.
“You’re shaking,” Adam says in my ear, and I can barely hear him over the music.
“I’m fine!” I yell, but I don’t turn my face toward him. I’m afraid he’ll see what I’m feeling.
I do still miss Chris. This is why I never watch MTV or listen to the radio. It’s why I deleted all his songs from my music collection and stashed everything that reminds me of him in boxes that are now collecting dust in Senia’s parents’ garage. I miss him. Every day.
I close my eyes and take another deep breath as he belts the chorus with so much emotion in his voice; it’s no wonder all these girls are in love with him.
Adam leans down and presses his lips to my ear. “Remember the excuse you gave me when you rejected my offer to take you on a date?”
I think about the day he almost ran me over with his truck when I was running away from the party, and Joanie, five weeks ago. I told him I couldn’t go to lunch with him because I was sleeping in late.
It dawns on me that he’s listening to “Sleepyhead” and thinking of that day.
I turn around and face him because I can’t watch Chris and listen to this song and listen to Adam say this all at the same time. Adam lifts my chin and his eyes search my face for something. He knows something is off, but he can’t quite figure it out. I force a smile, but he doesn’t look convinced. I guzzle down the rest of my glass of water and finally the song ends. I let out a deep sigh as I turn around again.
The rest of the set is comprised of songs I don’t think were inspired by me and a few covers. I’m feeling really good about myself for making it through the entire concert until the last song starts.
I’ve never heard the title track of Chris’s album, Relentless. The single hasn’t been released yet, but as soon as I hear the first few lines, I know it’s about us.
“We kissed under the trees, and talked about missing things. I wish I could have held you in; held in the heat of your breath; held onto you and I at our best.”
I do the one thing I think can save me from this moment. I spin around, pull Adam’s face to mine, and kiss him. Not a hard, hungry kiss, but a slow, sensual kiss. The kind of kiss that makes time stop and everything disappear. All I can feel is the curve of his mouth as it fits into mine. All I can smell is the faint hint of beer on his lips. All I can taste is the slightly sweet alcohol on his tongue.
“Having fun?” Joanie shouts.
“Ouch!” Adam yelps as I accidentally bite down on the tip of his tongue.
“Sorry!” I stroke his cheek and kiss the corner of his mouth, trying to ignore the fact that somewhere behind me Joanie is watching us.
“I’m okay,” he says, then licks my cheek to prove it.
“Ew!” I squeal and he laughs.