Until Dark - Mariah Stewart [51]
“Didn’t love enter into this at all?”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “I depended on him a great deal. Cared about him so much—I still do. He’s a very good man. But no, I wasn’t in love with him, and it occurred to me that I never would be. Once I realized that, it seemed that the best thing I could do for him was to leave while we were still friends.”
She toyed with her napkin, realizing that she’d never put it into words so succinctly before. She wondered if Adam thought she was shallow and callous, and was just about to ask, when she looked up at him.
“What did he say, when you told him you were leaving?”
“He said okay, he understood.”
“That’s all?”
“Pretty much.”
“Just, okay? You can leave?”
She nodded. “Why?”
“If you were my wife,” he said as he reached over and touched the tips of her fingers with his own, “you’d have to do a hell of a lot better than that. I would never give up on you that easily.”
His hand tugged on hers, then covered it. “I would move heaven and earth to prove that you were wrong, if you were my wife.”
“Adam . . .” she whispered, surprised by his admission.
“Sorry.” His face colored slightly as the waitress appeared with the check and handed it to him. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. And I shouldn’t have asked about your marriage. It’s none of my business. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“I didn’t think you were prying,” she said in his defense. “Look, I probably should have gotten in touch with you and explained what was happening back then but everything happened so quickly and—”
“No explanations owed—then or now. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” His smile was terse as he removed several bills from his wallet and left them on the table. “You ready to go?”
She followed him to the cash register, waited while he paid the bill, and politely thanked him for dinner as she followed him out into the cool April evening.
“Adam, I really want to . . .” she said as he opened the car door for her.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to. . . . Look, we’d only had a few real dates. I didn’t even know if you were interested back then.”
“I should have called you. I wanted to call you. It sounds weak and stupid now, but I just got swept up in everything after my mother’s death. I was depressed and scared to death, and as hard as it is for me to admit it now, I needed someone to take care of me, Adam. I was at a very low point in my life.”
“I would have happily done that.” He was close to her now, close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. “I’d have taken care of you.”
“No, you wouldn’t. At least not for long. It’s not a healthy kind of relationship. I know. I’ve been there. Not just with Greg, but with my mother. After my brother’s disappearance my mother just collapsed emotionally, and hung in that state for months. I took care of her, totally, for all that time. It was as if our roles were reversed. As if I was the mother and she the child. I grew very dependent on that role, Adam, and it wasn’t healthy. I almost resented her when she started to come out of it and do on her own, for herself. It was hard for me to go back to being the child again. And let’s not talk about how I felt when she told me she was going to law school, or that she was getting married again.”
She reached her arms up and drew him closer. “That’s not the kind of relationship I would have wanted with you. It’s not a relationship that can grow into anything good.”
“So you’re saying it’s either a good relationship or no relationship?”
“Well, why would anyone want to get into a relationship that—”
His mouth silenced hers, softly at first, then more insistently. She remembered what it had been like to kiss Adam. Had never forgotten. And he didn’t disappoint.
When she could catch her breath, Kendra leaned back and said, “And just for the record, I was interested. I was very interested.”
“You were?”
She nodded. “I still am.”