"I'd still like you to model it for me," he says, sitting down next to me. "Even if the proceedings got a little out of order, back there."
I open the box, and peer inside, pulling back the tissue paper. Whatever it is, it's a very small scrap of fabric.
Pulling it out, I watch it unfurl, and suddenly remember what the cashier at Diva's, the plus-sized boutique, said to me.
Nightie is a generous description for it. The fabric is sheer, and the matching bubblegum-pink G-string isn't exactly going to leave anything to the imagination, either.
I pick up the little embossed card from among the tissue paper, even though some part of me already knows what it's going to say.
Diva's
"Do you like it?" Adrian wants to know.
"Does that really matter?" I glance at him. "You shop at Diva's a lot?"
"Yes, it matters," he says, frowning a little. "And no, only once. For this."
I'm still holding it, letting the fabric run like water through my fingers. "I got all my Natalie clothes there. The cashier recognized your name, from your credit card. And she asked me how I liked the nightie you bought me."
His face blanches.
"Before Valentine's day," I continue. "She was very clear about that. So, I'm forced to draw the conclusion that you bought this for me four months before there was even a hint that we'd ever be sleeping together. Or, you bought it for someone else and re-gifted it."
He sighs, slowly. "Well, first off, the cashier at Diva's should learn to mind her own fucking business." Clearing his throat, he glances at me. "So…is 'hopeful' not an appropriate reason for buying lingerie, then?"
"Nope, not really." I'm laughing, in spite of myself. "I guess I should feel flattered. What, were you just going to drop it on my desk and run away?"
"I didn't have a plan," he admits. "I just saw it, and I thought of you."
"Bullshit." I'm really laughing now. "Why were you in Diva's in the first place?"
"Well, I was going to get you a gift," he says, defensively. "Just - not a gift like this, until I saw it. It was just too perfect."
"It is pretty nice," I admit. "And since when do you buy me gifts?"
"I thought I'd start," he says. "See, I was working on turning over a new leaf even before we slept together."
"You sure know how to spin it," I admit, getting to my feet and letting my bathrobe slip off my shoulders. "Hell, I guess it's been waiting around long enough. Let's find out how it fits."
His face, when I look for his reaction, is much too serious. "You know we don't have to go to that conference," he says. "I just thought it might…well, if you do want an excuse, we can, but I can see why you'd rather just pick your battles with that woman."
"We can talk about it later," I tell him, sliding the nightie over my head.
"Yes," he agrees, his eyes widening. "We can."
Chapter Fourteen
The next night, after work, Adrian comes over.
This time, he warns me beforehand. I tell him that the coast is clear, but that I can't guarantee my parents won't drop in unexpectedly. I already called my mom and left a voicemail telling her I'd be coming to the family Thanksgiving, but I'm thinking I might still cancel last-minute. I'll just wait until she's out of town, and she's made all her plans with the rest of the family so she can't come after me.
Until after the holidays, that is. I'll deal with that when the time comes.
This time, he doesn't bring any lingerie, and he doesn't even make any comments about what varietal of wine my pussy tastes like. He does bring dinner, from some fancy Italian place I've never dared to set foot inside, and for the first time since we kissed in the pool, I actually feel like we might be dating.
I'm not sure how that grabs me.
"So far, so good," Adrian says, pouring himself another glass of red that is not Beaujolais nouveau. He's referring to the fact that my mother hasn't knocked on the door yet, and I hush him violently.
"Don't tempt fate," I hiss at him, like fate can't hear me if I'm whispering.
He shrugs. "I'm not superstitious."
The doorbell rings.
"Welcome to hell," I mutter, as I go to answer.
My mother gives me an icy smile. "I see you've rethought your holiday plans."
"Yeah, well, I guess you were pretty persuasive." I stand in the middle of the doorway, attempting to block her path. "I'm kind of in the middle of something right now."
"Nonsense. You can always make time for your mother when she's visiting from so far away." She pushes past me, and stares Adrian down as she pulls out a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Well. Seems like you've taken the news rather well, unless she's saving that for pillow talk."
I grit my teeth. "It's fine, Mom. Really. I already told him I'm not going to do it."
"Yes." She grimaces slightly. "But you're going to anyway. I can see it in your face. You've always been a terrible liar, for such a deceitful little witch."
In that moment, I think I actually see Adrian's jaw unhinge in disbelief. Or perhaps in preparation to swallow his prey whole; it's always hard to tell, with him.
"Are you laughing at me?" my mother hisses. I realize that mental image has brought a pretty inconvenient smile to my face, but I don't particularly feel like hiding it. With Adrian beside me, I feel a strength and steadiness at the center of my chest.
"No," I tell her. "There's nothing funny about you, Mom."
Adrian clears his throat. "Don't speak to her like that."
Vicious anger flashes in my mother's eyes. "She's my daughter, Mr. Risinger. I'll speak to her however I like."
"You're very skilled at bullying, Mrs. Burns," he says, his voice deadly quiet. "It takes one to know one. You may have a few decades of experience on me, but I promise I don't back down easily."
She just quirks an eyebrow at him. She's not taking him seriously - not yet.
"I'm not terribly pleased with the way you've taken over my daughter's life," she says, daring a response.
Adrian's fingers are tapping out their slow executioner's beat on the table. My mother's eyes snap to them, staring, her lips going thinner and thinner as she stares.
The look on his face is terrifying. It's also the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"At least I appreciate her," he says, his voice quiet and even and calm. "Your daughter is brilliant, and beautiful. I think it's very sad that you can't see that. But I think it's reprehensible that you talk to her like she's a disappointment. Mrs. Burns, quite frankly, I don't care about your guilt trip. An animal can give birth to a child and raise it, so that doesn't particularly impress me. I don't know how Meghan turned out the way she did, but all I see is you trying to intimidate her into being a scared little girl again so you can feel important. I won't hear this. I've said what I have to say, and if Meghan is determined to allow it…well, there's nothing I can do about that."