…
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 porch 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.