The Foxe & the Hound

  My cheeks now resemble the red brick wall beside us.

  “Damn! I knew he had it in him. No one looks that good and doesn’t know what he’s doing in bed. It would be such a waste of—oh! Speak of the devil!”

  I turn over my shoulder and spot Adam strolling into the coffee shop in workout shorts and a t-shirt. I mentioned to him last night that I had a standing coffee date with Daisy on Saturday mornings at Hamilton Brew. I’m sure he’s here on purpose, and when he scans the room and finds me, his smile confirms it.

  “Did you invite him?” Daisy asks, curious.

  “No.”

  Yes.

  “Huh. Then you must have been pretty good too. He can’t stay away.”

  But he does stay away. After he orders at the counter, he picks up a newspaper and takes his coffee to a table across the room, near the window. I find it incredibly annoying. Surely he came for me…right?

  Daisy thinks he’s doing it on purpose. “It’d be weird if he came and interrupted our coffee date. Maybe he wants to see you, but doesn’t mind waiting until I leave.”

  “Then leave!”

  She stands and steals back the last of the muffin. “For that, I’m eating this. Have fun with Mr. Audi.”

  Everyone at the surrounding tables hears her—hell, Adam probably hears her—and it takes all my willpower not to trip her on her way past my chair. The only reason I resist the urge is because she could be pregnant.

  “I’ll call you later,” I promise.

  She waves at Adam as she walks out and then he glances over to my table. I tilt my head and nudge Daisy’s empty chair. He stands, collecting his coffee and newspaper.

  “Just passing by?” I quip as he takes her seat.

  He smiles. “I was in the neighborhood.”

  “Mhm.”

  “I hope I didn’t cut your coffee date short.”

  “Nah, we’ve been here for a while.”

  It’s true. That was our second round of muffins for the morning.

  “Then I don’t feel so bad.”

  I don’t think he feels bad at all.

  “Daisy thinks you can’t stay away because last night was so fun.”

  “Which part exactly? You straddling me in my car?”

  I swear the woman sitting behind us gasps under her breath.

  I roll my eyes. “Yes, that part.”

  “Maybe I just wanted coffee.”

  “Or maybe you couldn’t stay away.”

  He tilts his head, studying me. “Maybe.”

  I smile. “Figures.”

  “What are you doing after this?”

  “Taking Mouse to the park. It’s pretty out and I’ve been promising to throw the ball with him for the last few days. Want to come?”

  “Can I finish my coffee first?”

  I nod and stand. “Yeah, I need another muffin anyway.”

  …

  Three days later, I have to take Mouse back to the clinic for a round of shots. I have exactly thirty minutes to get in and out, drop Mouse back home, and make it to work on time. Adam doesn’t care about my time crunch. We’re in the exam room where he’s supposed to be inoculating my dog, and instead, he’s pinning me against the door, sliding his hand up my dress…like any proper vet should.

  “Do you do this with all your patients?” I tease, only halfheartedly batting his hand away.

  There’s not enough time for this, not to mention I have no brush, no makeup, nothing to touch myself up with if he decides to ravish me before work.

  He strings kisses down my neck and my eyes flutter closed.

  “Adam.”

  Someone knocks on the door of the exam room and we fly apart. It’s just his assistant, coming in with the shots for Mouse.

  I brush my hand across my neck, which is definitely pink from his lips, and take a seat in one of the chairs.

  “How are you today, Ms. Thatcher?”

  I smile at the assistant. “I’m good.” I tug down my skirt that’s riding a few inches higher than it should be. “Good, yeah. How are you?”

  She tries in vain to quell her smile. “Great. Dr. Foxe has been in a really good mood lately.”

  Adam is busy administering the shots and then showering Mouse with treats. Still, I can see the smile he’s trying to hide.

  When the assistant makes a move to exit the room, I stand. “Is that all? I’ll follow you out to handle the bill.”

  The assistant glances between Adam and me. “Oh, he didn’t tell you? You get the family and friends discount.”

  I arch a brow at Adam. “Lucky me.”

  When I leave a few minutes later, every pair of eyes in the reception area is trained on me. The gossip is going to get around town quickly enough, and though I should mind, I don’t—not one bit.

  Tonight, Adam is going to make roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes, and then after, I’m going to seduce him on my couch. I’m not sure which part I’m more excited about.

  No, the chicken.

  Definitely the chicken.

  …

  Adam closes on the farmhouse a week later. We spend all morning at the title company as he signs the documents and finalizes the last few loose ends. I can hardly sit still in my chair knowing I’m seconds away from carrying a commission check to the bank. I have it all planned out: I’m going to pay my rent (and take care of all my overdue payments), sock away some money into savings, and maybe, finally take my car to get fixed. I don’t know who’s more excited about the last thing, Adam or me.

  I offer to help him move in; he doesn’t have much since the house he was renting came fully furnished. There are a few boxes filled with his clothes and personal items, and even still, transporting everything only takes us two trips. We drop the boxes in the living room, stacked out of the way, and I take a second to inspect the empty space.

  It’s a dream house—my dream house—but I haven’t said that to Adam. It seems like a strange thing to announce to a man you’ve just started dating. Oh, by the way, the house you just purchased is exactly the type of home where I want to raise my future family. Cool, huh? I might as well slip him a piece of paper with my ring size on it. It’s too much pressure. We aren’t even officially dating. Daisy asked about it last night.

  “He’s not my boyfriend, per se,” I explain.

  “What do you mean? You guys have been inseparable lately.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s still new and there’s no rush to stick a label on it.”

  She hums like she doesn’t quite believe me. “Do you want to avoid labels or does Adam want to avoid labels?”

  “Me. Adam. We both do, I think.”

  “Don’t you get confused?”

  “What’s confusing?”

  “Are you guys exclusive?”

  “I am.”

  “And Adam?”

  I sigh, trying to convey how freaking annoying she’s being. “I don’t know, Daisy.”

  “YOU DON’T KNOW?!”

  “I haven’t seen him with anyone else! And to be honest, I don’t know how he’d have the time. We’re together every day.” I’m 99% sure he isn’t seeing anyone else, but I haven’t asked. It seems like such a heavy and awkward conversation to have this early on.

  “Sounds like you’re setting yourself up for a lot of miscommunication.”

  “Weird, I think I’m missing some communication right now. The signal is breaking up. Gotta go.”

  “Tell your boyfriend—oh, I mean your friend with no labels and no strings attached—that I said hi.”

  I hang up on her.

  Now, 24 hours later, I’m annoyed to find that Daisy’s seed has taken root in my thoughts. Are we exclusive? Do I even want to be exclusive? Ha. The girl who has been eternally single for the last few years isn’t sure if she’s ready to settle down; that’s rich. A month ago, I’d have gone on a date with Mr. Boggs had he asked politely.

  I’m pulled out of my thoughts when Adam opens the French doors that lead out to the wraparound porc
h and tells me to wait for him out there. Mouse runs out before me, taking full advantage of the fenced in acres that sit around Adam’s house. The closest neighbor might as well be on another planet. Out here, it feels like we have the entire world to ourselves.

  I take a seat on the porch steps and watch as Mouse tracks a squirrel and takes off. Then he spots a rabbit and doubles back. He is in doggy heaven.

  Adam brings out a chilled bottle of champagne and two plastic cups.

  “Time to celebrate?” I ask, taking the cups so he can pop the cork.

  “Seems appropriate. It’s not every day that you sell a house.”

  I smile. “It’s not every day that you buy a house either.”

  He laughs and pours me so much champagne that it spills over the brim of the small cup. I squeal and lean back, but there’s already champagne on my t-shirt. Adam makes clean work of it, stripping it off over my head “so it can dry” on the porch.

  I laugh as he pulls me in close. “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “It’ll be dry in no time,” he promises, nuzzling against the side of my neck.

  “Oh yeah? And what about my bra?”

  He’s already trying to peel it off me.

  “I think it got a little champagne on it, too.”

  “We should go inside.”

  Those words come out of my mouth, but they’re nothing more than a halfhearted whisper.

  “No one can see us,” he promises, backing me up against the side of the porch. He moves his left foot and then his right, and mine have to follow. Soon enough, I’m caged in.

  “Mouse can see,” I joke.

  His mouth drags down my chest, kissing across my collarbone and then lower still. “He’s too busy with squirrels.”

  No, Mouse wasn’t too busy with squirrels, he was rolling in a puddle of mud. I know because a few seconds later he runs up onto the porch and shakes out all over Adam and me. In seconds, we’re both completely covered. We leap apart and Adam chides Mouse with feigned anger. Mouse responds by running right back off the porch, straight to the puddle, and rolling around some more.

  “Are we sure he’s not part piglet?” I ask, stepping up behind Adam and hooking my arms around his waist. My bare chest presses against his t-shirt and I turn my head, letting my cheek rest between his shoulder blades. We’ve never done this—casual intimacy, cuddling. We were on our way to fooling around on the porch and we will probably continue in a few minutes, but for now, I don’t mind just standing here, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm.

  He laughs. “Right now, I honestly can’t tell.”

  I make a move to step back, and he reaches down to hold my hands against him so I can’t pull away. I’m glad he can’t see how big I’m smiling against his back.

  …

  The next morning, I wake up alone in Adam’s new bedroom. His newly purchased air mattress is set up on the ground, and our blankets are sprawled out everywhere. We went to work christening the space right away. The wall, the door, the hardwood floor—they all played a role in our night. Hell, I’d have probably dangled from the ceiling fan if I was tall enough. I guess there’s always next time…

  But first I need food. All the pizza and champagne we had last night is long gone. I sit up in bed, wrapping the white sheet around my chest. That’s when I hear the voices carry from downstairs, and I can’t be sure…but I think I also catch a whiff of fresh bread. Pastries, maybe kolaches. Oh yes.

  I scramble off the mattress as quickly as possible and throw on the only clothes I have: yesterday’s mud-stained blouse and pencil skirt. I’m tempted to borrow something from Adam, but he’s not here to offer it to me, and I’m not going to assume it’d be okay. Maybe he’d think I was crazy, trying to steal his t-shirts and leaving a toothbrush by his sink—although, a toothbrush would be really nice at the moment. As it is, I squeeze toothpaste on my finger in his bathroom and do a half-ass job of masking my morning breath. I tell myself it’s better than nothing.

  When I walk out of Adam’s room, I verify that there are definitely voices coming from downstairs, and it’s not from the television—I know because we didn’t have time to set it up last night. See: sexual activities.

  I make it halfway down the stairs before I identify who’s talking.

  Adam’s mother.

  Son of a—

  “I was just as shocked as you are. I mean, she just showed up on my front porch! What was I supposed to do?”

  “Put her on the first plane back to Chicago,” Adam responds in frustration.

  I want to scurry back up the stairs, but now I’m close enough to know for sure that there are fresh baked goods in that kitchen. My love of warm carbs outweighs my ability to heed social cues. Maybe they can keep on having their private conversation as I slink in, load up a plate, and slither right back upstairs.

  “Madeleine! I had no idea you were here.”

  I freeze on the bottom stair as Diane takes in my dirty attire, my ruffled hair, and the hickey I just now remembered. I slap my hand up to cover it and she winks.

  “Oh, yeah…” I fumble for a reasonable excuse. “I was just checking up on Adam to make sure he, uhh, knows where all the light switches are.”

  Adam shakes his head and laughs.

  His mom arches a brow, humoring me. “What a fancy outfit for a Sunday morning.”

  I shrug. “Oh, you know, just because it’s the day of rest doesn’t mean you can’t dress for success!”

  I can drop the act. I’m not fooling anyone, not even Mouse. He’s sitting beside Diane, staring at me with what I swear is a knowing grin.

  “I think you have a sock stuck to your shoulder,” she points out.

  It’s actually a pair of socks, and they’re Adam’s. I peel them off slowly and lay them down on the counter. I think momentarily of making a Dobbie is a free elf joke, but I think the timing is all wrong. Instead, I smile awkwardly and shrug.

  “Mom, Madeleine isn’t here on real estate business. She’s my girlfriend. For real this time.”

  GIRLFRIEND.

  Take that, Daisy.

  I offer Diane a smile, but I know it more closely resembles the straight-mouthed, teeth-clenched emoji I employ in moments of panic.

  Diane slaps a hand to her chest and feigns shock. “What?! No. I could never have possibly guessed that.”

  I drop my hand from my neck. There’s no point in trying to keep up appearances at this point.

  “If I’d known you were here, I would have tried to make myself a little more presentable,” I admit sheepishly.

  “I think you look great. My son, on the other hand, could use a shower.”

  I glance over and smile. Adam is leaning back against the kitchen counter in a t-shirt and pajama pants. His light brown hair is sticking up in every direction, and he looks sleepy and adorable. I would maul him if his mother wasn’t standing ten feet away.

  “Long night?” she asks, and I turn into a strawberry.

  “Mom, why do you ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to?”

  “Because I like to watch you squirm,” she says with a confident smile.

  “Could I maybe steal one of those pastries?” I ask, pointing to the light pink box on the counter. If I’m going to be subjected to interacting with my boyfriend’s mother this early on a Sunday, I need to do it while I lick icing off a cinnamon roll.

  She pushes the box toward me and then passes me a paper plate. “Take as many as you’d like. I brought them for you.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t know she was here,” Adam points out.

  Diane grins. “I’m not half as naive as you seem to think I am, son.”

  He nods. “Noted.”

  I take a bite of pastry and silence falls across the kitchen. I’m reminded of the conversation I interrupted with my arrival. After I finish my first bite, I tell them I’ll be on the porch with Mouse. Neither one of them tries to follow me. Clearly, they have something to finish discussi
ng. Unfortunately, even outside, I can hear every word. The French doors do nothing to muffle the discussion about Olivia.

  I gather up the details I missed while I was sleeping. Olivia apparently showed up unexpectedly at Diane’s house last night. Diane let her in and gave her the guest room to sleep in for the night, a fact that makes me want to crush my cinnamon roll in the palm of my hand. I resist, though, because…cinnamon roll.

  “What does she want?” Adam asks.

  “To talk to you, of course.”

  He laughs and it sounds scary, menacing. “There’s a little thing called a telephone. If she wanted to talk, she had the last five months to call me.”

  “She assumed you wouldn’t answer.”

  “Well she was right about that,” he says. “I probably wouldn’t have.”

  “She brought Molly.”

  His beloved dog.

  “Why the hell would she do that? Some kind of guilt trap?”

  His mom tries to calm him down. “I don’t know what she wants to talk to you about, but if you want me to tell her you aren’t open to it, I will. However, I’m going to give you some advice that I think you should take to heart. You and Olivia left things in shambles. There was no closure, no little bow to tie up loose ends. Those are the things that haunt you when you get to be my age. If you want to move on, to leave Olivia in the past, I think you should have a conversation with her, in person. If you react in anger now, I think you’ll regret it down the line.”

  NO. No you won’t!

  I hate Diane. I fling her cinnamon roll out into the pasture—I will not eat the bread of my enemies, and that’s exactly what she is if she wants Adam to sit down with Olivia. He loved her for so many years. God, he probably still loves her. If they see each other, all those feelings are going to come flooding back, and the fact that she brought Molly—that underhanded bitch knew exactly what she was doing. I stomp out into the pasture and kick the cinnamon roll another ten feet. It feels good to demolish something, though I am now admittedly starving.

  A few minutes later, when Adam shouts for me to come back inside, his mom is gone. Her stupid pastries still sit on the counter, but I’m not even a little tempted to take a new one.

  “So apparently Olivia showed up at my mom’s house last night,” he volunteers.