Submit and Surrender (21 page)

And what once felt safe now felt like that great, yawning gulf, opening up inside her. Before it could overwhelm her, Adra smiled back up at him, gave him a peck on the cheek, and went back downstairs.

~ * ~ * ~

Ford ran hard.

He hadn’t taken his truck up to the canyons for a cross-country run in what felt like a long time. He’d gotten everything he’d needed lately from playing with Adra, but today required more, at least if he was going to be able to help the woman he cared about the most.

The sweat poured off him in waves, sucked up greedily by the dry ground as he ran harder and harder.

It was the only way to clear his head after Roman had told him that he was giving Adra an early ride back to Ford’s place. Hell, just running into Adra earlier had put him on high alert, but getting confirmation that there was something upsetting her, something she wouldn’t tell him about—again—just made it worse.

Every time he looked at Derrick Duvall, for example, he wanted to punch that pretty boy through a wall. Ford was self-aware enough to know that wasn’t even about Derrick. Adra was right when she said she could handle him, even though it pissed Ford off that she ever had to.

No, he was pissed off because Derrick knew what was going on. Derrick was still close to her in a way that Ford wasn’t.

It was straight up jealousy. Which was beneath him, and it was beneath Adra, and more importantly: it was fucking dangerous. Ford had kept it under lockdown, not even letting himself think it. The last thing he wanted was to spook Adra further.

She was already so frightened. So torn up. And so clearly anxious about their arrangement, with those questions about his ex-wife. He could see it—he could fucking
feel
it, like he had nerves tied to hers, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He ran harder.

He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached and thought he might, just
might
, have worked the worst of it off. And by the time he drove home the sun was already setting and he was thinking clearly. His priority was Adra. Which meant he couldn’t take his own baggage into any conversation with her; he couldn’t think about it his own past with a woman who didn’t know what she wanted and eventually left him for another man. He couldn’t push Adra into something because it was what
he
wanted.

He had to be strong enough to wait for her.

Which actually felt easier than it should. Easier than he would have expected it to feel. He thought about that, as he drove through the winding canyon roads, knowing he was getting closer and closer: this kind of situation should be setting off all kinds of alarm bells, reminding him of what happened with Claudia and Jesse, looking like the exact kind of thing he’d always said he’d avoid. It was the reason he’d avoided Adra for a while after she’d told him she couldn’t really be with him. It should have had the same effect now.

Only it didn’t.

He could kind of feel that in the background, weak and irrelevant. But it was like a shadow compared to what he felt when he thought about Adra now.

So much so that he knew he wouldn’t feel good until she did too. Fact. All he wanted to do was help her be happy, and it killed him when she wasn’t.

Yeah, he was one hundred percent, absolutely screwed in love.

And he was happy about it.

So happy that when he got home and found Adra already sleeping, her body curled up into a tiny little ball and her expression anything but relaxed, he knew enough to leave her alone. But he gently, slowly, draped a blanket over her first.

The next day, Adra felt…off.

No, it was the entire world that felt off. Just
wrong
, somehow, like there was a major imbalance somewhere, something that would explain why she kept bumping into things, or dropping things onto other things, or just generally screwing up. Or why she had actually snapped at one of the production assistants.

She
never
did that.

She’d brought the poor kid a cup of coffee later because she felt so badly about it—really, if anyone knew how terribly people were treated at the bottom of the entertainment industry ladder, it was Adra, and she’d always promised herself that she would never treat anyone that way—but she’d still
done
it.

The kid was maybe twenty, and had just looked confused and suspicious when she’d apologized.

It was really not her day.

She tried not to think about why.

So, of course, she pretty much
only
thought about why. She’d realized around two in the afternoon that the previous night was the first night since they’d started having sex that she and Ford…hadn’t. Not even plain old vanilla sex. That was clearly her fault for running away in the middle of the day and falling into one of those deep sleeps she only managed when she was emotionally exhausted, but she still felt the absence.

She’d woken up with a blanket tucked around her and she’d wished it had been him instead.

And then, right on schedule, she’d had a mini freak-out about wishing it was him.

She was actually
incredibly
tired of freaking out. Really, how long could she keep it up? She was only human. It felt very much like she was on some kind of treadmill with an ever increasing speed, and she was reaching the end of her limit.

“Hey, crazy lady,” Lola said. “Whatcha being crazy about?”

Adra turned around to find Lola standing there with a giant, heaping plate of baked goodies stolen from the film catering table.

“That obvious?” Adra asked.

“Mmmhmm,” Lola said. “That’s why I bring you treats. Well, treat, singular. As in one. The rest are for me.”

Adra actually studied her options for a second, trying to make a considered treat-related decision, before Lola burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, I’m kidding,” Lola said. “I can’t make a pregnancy joke?”

“You ordered an entire page of appetizers. Remember that?”

“That was just indecision,” Lola said, waving her hand. “You helped.”

Adra laughed. “You are really milking this pregnancy thing, aren’t you?”

“Hell yes,” Lola said. “Wouldn’t you?”

Adra didn’t mean to give anything away, but she must have. Maybe her emotions were just running too close to the surface. She watched Lola’s expression fall, and felt terrible.

Man, I should come with a warning label today.

“Oh, honey,” Lola said. “I didn’t mean…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Adra said. “And I shouldn’t… I mean, I’m just weirdly sensitive today, it’s not anything you said. I’m just a big ball of feelings lately and I’m starting to feel…”

“Worn out?”

“Yeah.”

They sat down in one of Adra’s favorite little hidden areas, a little nook where you could see over the second floor balcony onto the chaos below and still have some privacy. Plus, the couch was super comfortable.

“So you want a family,” Lola said.

She said it gently, but it was still a statement.

Adra took a deep breath. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“Not really,” Lola said. “I mean, yes, the getting one part is pretty complicated, and so is the having one part, but wanting it…that’s often pretty black or white.”

Adra tried to stare her friend down. She should have known that never would have worked.

“Fine,” she said finally. “Yes, in an ideal world, which this one is not, I would want a family.”

“Of course you do,” Lola said, tearing into a cinnamon roll.

“What do you mean?”

It was strangely alarming to think Adra’s most secret desires, the things she desperately wanted but knew couldn’t have, the things she almost never let herself think about, were totally, completely obvious. Like finding out your favorite dress was transparent in the wrong kind of light.

“You’re the most maternal person I know,” Lola said. She put down the now deconstructed cinnamon roll to give Adra her full attention. “And it’s not just maternal instinct, or whatever. You don’t treat people like children, but you take care of everyone, Adra. All the time. Like it’s your job. Like they’re your family.”

“You guys are my family,” Adra said quietly.

“But you don’t let us take care of you,” Lola said. “So,
kind
of. But it’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Lola, please don’t make me cry,” Adra said.

“At some point you have to let it out, Adra,” Lola said. “Whatever is eating at you, whatever this thing is with Ford—”

“Shit,” Adra said.

“Oh please, you know I know,” Lola said, and shoved a piece of sugared, cinnamoned, doughy heaven at Adra’s face. “Eat before you cry.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Adra said. “Sticky fingers and cinnamon tears. You ready for that mess?”

“Always. It’ll give me practice for the baby.”

Adra laughed until she nearly choked, which, as it turned out, was also a pretty effective way to keep her from crying.

“I hate to tell you this, but I’m pretty sure they don’t smell like cinnamon,” Adra said.

Lola was not deterred.

“You going to tell me, Adra?” she said, serious now. “I worry about you. I worry about you keeping this inside. I worry—”

“I can’t fall in love with him,” Adra blurted out.

There was a silence.

Lola carefully picked out a chocolate cupcake and handed it to Adra.

“And why not?” she said.

“Because…” Shit. This was one of those things, where, when she tried to explain it, she just sounded like an idiot. She’d never been able to put together the words to convey the feelings that came over her when she thought about allowing herself to rely on anyone, or have them rely on her, even though it was probably the single biggest guiding principle of her life. If she could even call it that.

Oh, who was she kidding? It wasn’t a principle; it was a fear. She should at least own up to it.

“Oh damn,” she said, and put down her cupcake. Her appetite was suddenly gone. “Because I’m not really built for it. Other people…I don’t know, they seem to manage it. But I never have. I get left, over and over again, and people in my family, they leave, and they hurt people. And I’m not strong enough for it anymore. I know that’s a pathetic reason, but it’s true, and I just…I would break, Lola. That’s the truth. I’d break, and I’d break him, and it would be awful.”

“That’s…”

“What?”

“I mean, I want to say that’s totally crazy and you’ve just had terrible luck,” Lola said. “But somehow I don’t think that will help.”

“Maybe it’s just bad luck, but it’s made me like this,” Adra said. “I mean, I’ve gotten used to the idea that I’m not able to have committed relationships. Fine. But if I tried it with Ford and it went to hell the way it always does…oh God, it would just destroy me. And I don’t want to lose him entirely. Selfish, I guess, but, well, there it is. So I don’t know how to manage the whole thing.”

“Who would?” Lola said, picking out another cupcake. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“Well, it’s not
all
bad,” Adra said.

Lola grinned in a manner that could only be described as “saucily.”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“There’s actually a
lot
of good.”

“There would pretty much have to be,” Lola said. “Hey, I have a question. If Ford’s your best friend, how come you’re not talking about this with him?”

Well, that broke Adra’s brain.

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. But nope, she still had nothing. Because Lola had a point. If Adra couldn’t talk about this with Ford, he wasn’t really her best friend. It meant she’d already lost him in a way. It meant the current situation wasn’t working.

Lola raised her eyebrows like,
Mmmhmm, I thought so
.

Adra tried to untie the knots in her brain and took another cupcake.

***

It didn’t happen like she planned.

It wasn’t even meant to happen at all.

Adra had gone back to Ford’s early again. She’d paced, and thought, and argued with herself out loud. She’d tensed up when she heard him come home and then she’d waited, both nervous and dying to see him, until she heard his footsteps outside the door of her room. “Her” room—it was
his
house; that she thought of it as her room was kind of ridiculous.

He’d only knocked, and then when she flung open the door, insanely anxious because she still didn’t know what to say or what to do, he’d taken one look at her and asked if she was ok.

“No,” she’d said. “But I will be. Give me time?”

And then he’d asked no more questions, and made her dinner.

Now it was late. It was past late; it was that hour of the night that felt like a separate island from the rest of the world, at least up here in the Hills. Back at Adra’s place, she could always hear some sort of city sounds. But here, in Ford’s private house, she felt like she was in another world.

Maybe that actually helped what came next.