We had waited long enough to be together. It was time to stop being stubborn and to embrace the second chance we had been given.
The door opened.
“Adam—”
His name fell like a lump of lead at my feet because it wasn’t Adam that answered the door.
“Hi there, Two-Back Galloway. What are you doing at my house?” Chelsea was dressed in a skimpy slip, her massive boobs spilling over the top. Her blonde hair was tousled in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her collagen-puffed lips were parted in a perfect pout. And she stood there, in Adam’s doorway, like she owned the place. Like she had every right to be there.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, feeling my anger surge. What was going on? I tried to look over her shoulder for Adam but couldn’t see him. I could smell something cooking, and music came from the speakers in the living room. Was he playing Justin Beiber? What kind of fresh hell was this? I noticed several candles lit on the table, giving the space a romantic, ambient feel.
Chelsea put a hand on her hip and flicked her hair back, narrowing her eyes. “I live here, Meg. So I’ll ask you again, Two-Back, what are you doing at my house?”
Her house.
Her house.
No freaking way.
“Does Adam even know you’re here, you psycho?” I seethed, thinking about pushing my way into the house.
Chelsea laughed, an obnoxiously pretty sound. God, I hated her. “Of course he does, you idiot. He’s in the kitchen making our favorite Chicken Marsala.” She leaned in toward me as if sharing a confidence. “It was the meal we had on our honeymoon in Rome.”
This couldn’t be happening. Adam wanted nothing to do with Chelsea.
“Let me speak to Adam. Now,” I barked, getting in Chelsea’s face.
She took a step back, clearly shocked by my aggression. But then she looked over her shoulder and called out, “Adam, there’s someone here to see you.”
And I heard his voice filtering down the hallway, muffled but clear. “What?”
He was there. He was actually there. And Chelsea was with him.
Chelsea, obviously seeing the devastation on my face, had to twist the knife a little bit more. “We’re going to counseling. We’re going to give our marriage another try.” She gave me a simpering smile. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You don’t give up on them. Adam knows we belong together. We always have.” She gave me a once over, her lip curling in disgust. “You can get off my porch now.”
Then she shut the door in my face.
I was left standing there with my two bottles of champagne, feeling like the world’s dumbest person. Slightly crazed, I pulled a piece of paper and a pen out of my bag and quickly wrote a note, then attached it to the two bottles of champagne and left them by the door.
Then I ran back to my car just as the first tears began to fall.
**
I was thankful Mom was out with Adam’s mother when I got home. I didn’t want to have to explain why I was near an emotional breakdown. I slammed the front door behind me and fell against it, sagging to the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest, buried my face in my hands, and sobbed like I hadn’t done since Dad died.
And over a stupid man too.
I felt like the worst kind of pathetic, the kind that wanted to curl into a ball and die because the guy I had pinned my dreams on had turned out to be exactly what I always thought he was.
A grade-A asshole.
I couldn’t get the image of Chelsea’s perfect, slender body in her skimpy lingerie that fit her like a goddamn glove. Then I started imagining Adam taking off that lingerie and putting his mouth on her—
“Arghhh!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, letting it all out.
Whitney appeared in the living room doorway, a pair of earbuds dangling around her neck, seeming perplexed. “What in the actual hell, Meg?” Then she looked closer at my face. Without a word, she took my hands and hauled me to my feet.“Don’t let him do this to you. Don’t ever give a man that kind of power.” She gave me a little shake, her face thunderous.
My lips quivered, and I tried not to sob. God, I hated weakness in any form, and I wanted to slap myself in the face. “I let my guard down, Whit. I let myself love him again.