You Lost Me When You Found Her

THE PROMISE

When I was seven, I believed Adrian Cole would marry me. It wasn't a strange belief because everyone around us seemed to think the same thing. Our mothers had been best friends since college, our fathers had known each other for years, and Adrian and I had practically grown up in each other's homes.

Whenever our families gathered, someone always made the same joke about us becoming husband and wife one day. I used to blush whenever they said it. Adrian never did. He would roll his eyes, complain that the adults were being ridiculous and drag me away before I could defend myself. But when we were alone, he was different.

At eight, I asked him if he really hated the idea of marrying me. We had been lying on the grass behind his house, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky. Adrian had his hands tucked beneath his head and seemed far more interested in the clouds than in my question.

When I nudged him, he finally turned to look at me. You're annoying, he said. I frowned and told him that wasn't what I had asked. For a moment, he seemed to think seriously about it.

Then he smiled. Fine. If we're both still single when we're thirty, I'll marry you. I sat up immediately. Promise? Adrian laughed at my excitement, but he held out his little finger. I hooked mine around it without hesitation. Promise.

It was a silly childhood promise between two children who knew nothing about marriage or love. At least, that's what Adrian would probably say now. Back then, however, I treasured it like it was the most important thing in the world.

Twenty-three years later, I was standing in Adrian's kitchen wearing one of his shirts and waiting for the coffee to finish brewing. The shirt was too big for me, the sleeves covering half my hands while the hem fell dangerously close to my thighs. Adrian had complained about me stealing his clothes countless times, but he had never actually stopped me.

That was Adrian. He complained about everything, but somehow always let me have my way. I heard footsteps behind me before his arms slipped around my waist. He rested his chin on my shoulder and pressed his face against the side of my neck. You're wearing my shirt again. I glanced at him through the reflection in the glass cabinet and told him good morning.

He hummed against my skin, and I tried not to smile. It was difficult. Adrian had always been like this with me. Affectionate when he wanted to be, protective whenever he needed to be and completely impossible to understand whenever I tried to figure out what we were.

For two years, we had been sleeping together. Two years of shared meals, late-night movies and waking up tangled in the same sheets. Two years of whispered I love yous, secret touches beneath dinner tables and Adrian driving me home whenever it rained. We acted like a couple in every way that mattered, yet whenever I tried to give what we had a name, he found a way to avoid the conversation.

I had convinced myself that Adrian simply needed time. Maybe he was afraid of ruining what we had. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment. Maybe one day, he would look at me and finally realize that the girl he had grown up with was also the woman he loved. I had believed that for so long it had almost become a fact in my mind.

Adrian pulled away and reached for the coffee. What are you smiling about? I told him it was nothing, but he immediately called me a liar. I took the cup from his hand and turned to face him. You're just jealous because I look better in your clothes.

He gave me a slow once-over and said I looked like a child who had broken into his closet. I threw a cushion at him, but he caught it easily and laughed. The sound warmed something deep inside me. This was us. This was the relationship I had spent years believing in.

After a while, Adrian stepped closer and brushed his fingers against the side of my face. The teasing smile on his lips faded, and for a brief moment, the room became quiet. My heart began beating faster. Even after two years, Adrian could still make me feel like a girl experiencing her first crush.

He leaned down and kissed me, and for those few seconds, I forgot every question I had been carrying in my heart. But when he pulled away, I found myself looking at him for longer than I should have. Adrian.

Hmm?

Do you ever think about us?

His expression changed. Only slightly, but I noticed. I always noticed everything about Adrian. He moved away first and reached for his coffee. What do you mean? I forced a laugh and told him I didn't know. Us. What we are.

He sighed. Elena. The way he said my name made my chest tighten. I know what you're going to say. Then you should know I hate repeating myself.

Adrian looked at me with a calmness that made me want to scream. We're fine the way we are. I stared at him. Fine? He nodded, as though that single word explained everything. We're best friends. We get along. We have fun. Why do we have to complicate it?

Because we sleep together, I wanted to say. Instead, I looked away. Adrian walked over and pulled me into his arms from behind. Don't overthink things, Jerry. He only called me Jerry when he wanted to soften me, and despite everything, I still allowed myself to lean against him. For a moment, I forgot the conversation and let myself believe that perhaps I was simply being impatient.

Then Adrian spoke again.

By the way, my parents want me to meet someone this week.

I opened my eyes and slowly turned my head. Someone? He rested his chin on my shoulder, completely unaware that the warmth had already begun to leave my body. A girl from college, he said. My fingers tightened around the coffee cup. What's her name? Adrian smiled, and there was something in his expression I couldn't quite understand. Isabelle Laurent.

I didn't know the name, but I knew the look in his eyes. It was the same look Adrian wore whenever he talked about something he truly wanted. I stared at him silently, trying to convince myself that I was imagining it. After all, Adrian had just told me we were best friends. He had said our relationship was fine. He had told me not to overthink things.

But for the first time in two years, a frightening thought began to take shape in my mind.

Maybe I had been the only one treating us like a love story.