Page 15 of Here in My Heart (Here Together #2)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Sylvie rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squinted at the strange ceiling above.

At some point the previous evening, she’d refilled her wine glass and abandoned all intentions of going home, not wanting to leave Ade to face her fears alone.

She turned, knowing full well Ade would be stretched out, fully dressed, beside her.

Sylvie closed her eyes, unwilling to accept the line she’d crossed by staying over last night.

Her judgment had been way off, and she couldn’t blame the wine.

Ade stirred. Damn. She should’ve left already. She should be out on the street and far away from Ade’s slumbering body, however clothed they both were. The cadence of Ade’s breath faltered, and Sylvie looked away, cringing inside.

“Hey,” Ade whispered.

Her beautiful, sleepy voice cut through Sylvie’s doubt. What was it about that voice, that face, which was so magnetic?

“Good morning.” Sylvie sat up, meaning to gather herself. “I should get going.”

“It’s Friday. We have our regular catch-up scheduled.” Ade yawned, her bare arms popping from her sleeves. “I look forward to it.”

Sylvie averted her gaze, her head spinning more and more with every inch of Ade’s body uncovered from the duvet.

When had they decided to make up the bed?

She shook her head, not wishing to replay the events too vividly.

She’d really tried to keep her distance yesterday, but Ade had been so vulnerable that all her instincts kicked in to protect her.

“You want to get coffee and talk here?” Ade asked .

Sylvie shouldn’t stay any longer. She’d hurdled all kinds of professional boundaries. But Ade scratched at her hair and rubbed her eyes, looking more gorgeous than ever.

“Why not?” The answer slipped from Sylvie’s lips.

“What do you mean?” Ade’s brow furrowed.

“I mean, yes, I’d love to get coffee and talk here.” Sylvie smiled, losing herself in the depth of Ade’s wide pupils. “Do you want to grab them from the bakery while I have a quick shower?” It was presumptive, but Sylvie couldn’t stay without cleaning herself up.

Ade jumped out of the bed and pulled on her shoes. “I’ll go now. Help yourself to whatever you need.” She threw open her closet, revealing a line of identical black T-shirts. “If you need clothes, they’re in here.”

Sylvie drew the line at wearing Ade’s clothes. “And towels?”

“On the bathroom shelf. If they’re folded, they’re clean. That’s the Poole household golden rule.” Ade seemed to come to life with excitement.

As she practically skipped out of the front door, Sylvie breathed a sigh of relief. She’d gotten through the night, and she could come back from this. She’d done what any responsible adult would have done: she’d helped a friend in need. A younger friend, who was away from home and on her own.

Under the shower, she washed away the questions reverberating between her ears: why couldn’t she leave, really? What had her fixed to the spot last night, sipping her drink and gazing into Ade’s eyes while the conversation flowed between them?

“I’m back.” Ade clattered something around behind the flimsy bathroom door.

Merde. She’d hoped to be dry and dressed. The only thing between her naked body and Ade was a six-foot length of plywood and a towel. She peered into the steamed mirror and groaned at her tangled wet hair. Nothing says professional like stepping out of a fresh shower.

Sylvie hopped up and down in the petite bathroom, pulling on last night’s clothes over her damp skin.

She inspected her makeup free face and screwed her nose up at the creases around her eyes.

Ade had no signs of her age. Her skin was smooth and without a single blemish.

Without a face of armor, Sylvie shrank from the situation and snuck back into the kitchen area, not wanting to be noticed.

“There you are,” Ade said, without a hint of self-consciousness.

“Listen, maybe I should head off,” Sylvie said, ducking her head.

“But why?” Ade’s face fell with disappointment. “I have the coffee, and you said we could have our meeting here.”

“I know I did.” She took a cup and perched on the edge of the sofa bed, eager to get it over with. “Let’s do this. How are things going with your group?”

Ade took a deep breath and sat down opposite. “I think I’m making progress, then something happens, and I realize I’m terrible with people.”

Well, that cut to the chase. “You are terrible with people. Sometimes.”

Ade glared at her. “That’s not helpful.”

“You’re right. I’m here to be helpful.” Sylvie smiled. “But the truth is, I’ve seen you at your best. You’re full of empathy. You’re attuned. You’re in sync with what’s around you.”

“What?”

“When you’re with your marine animals— not with your students,” said Sylvie.

Ade crossed her arms, as if she was processing the scale of the insult, then she cracked a smile, and her laughter filled the room. “You’re so right.”

“So don’t beat yourself up about it. Focus on what you’re good at. What you’re pretty great at.”

“Sometimes I don’t feel good at very much,” said Ade. “I don’t feel like I fit in the world.”

Sylvie sat back into the sofa, which had been re-made, and tucked her bare feet under her, just like she was at home. “Have you always felt that way?” She really wanted to get inside Ade’s head for a minute, fascinated by Ade’s complexity and the depth beneath her fragile surface.

“I guess so. It’s been my narrative since I was born, really.”

Sylvie blinked. “Tell me more.”

“When Steph was born, she came out screaming apparently. All legs and lungs.” Ade bit her lip.

“I’ve struggled with everything my whole life.

I was the ‘weaker twin.’” She raised her hands for emphasis.

“According to my dads, I came out after a long-ass labor, and I had to go into the neo-natal unit for three weeks. My dads said I was always the one who needed the most care and attention. Steph practically looked after herself.”

“I doubt that.” Sylvie raised her eyebrow. “You think your birth story sets the tone for the rest of your life?”

“No, I’m not that naive. But it has been the family way of describing us both. Steph can manage things. She’s independent and ambitious.” Ade shrugged. “I need help with everything.”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” Sylvie asked.

“Yeah, but only because my sister brought me over, helped me find an apartment, and settled me in before she left.” Ade tightened her arms across her chest. “I couldn’t even make it through yesterday without you.”

Sylvie sat up. “Hey, not many people would have brushed yesterday off without a little help from friends. Don’t beat yourself up about that.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Sylvie desperately wanted to slip her arm around Ade’s shoulders and draw her into an embrace. She looked so in need of comfort. Instead, Sylvie flashed her biggest smile. “When do you feel at your most confident?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Sylvie’s stomach skipped. Did Ade mean to say when they were together?

Ade blew across her coffee cup. “When I’m with the animals in the lab. Or when I’m out in the water.”

“Right. Yes.” Sylvie nodded. Of course Ade wasn’t thinking of them together. They were just colleagues. There was no “together.” “Why is that, do you think?”

Ade chewed at her nail. “They don’t judge me, I guess. I get a lot of judgment from people sometimes.”

“You do? In what way?”

“Trust me, I’m self-aware enough to know I miss a ton of cues.

You know, the way people look at each other and their tone.

But there are some that are way too obvious to miss.

I see the way people frown at me if I say something wrong.

” Ade dropped her head. “I see way more frowns than anything else some days.”

Sadness washed over Sylvie. “And animals don’t frown?”

“Right.”

“Perhaps that frown isn’t always disapproval or judgment. Sometimes, people might be trying to work out what you mean. Or what they should say.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ade nodded. “Hard to decipher which is which though.”

Sylvie sighed. She hated the thought of Ade feeling so alone. “I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel sad.”

Ade perked up, meeting her gaze. “You don’t make me feel sad, Sylvie. You’re one of the only people I’ve ever met that speaks in a way that I kind of get, most of the time. And your face?—”

“What?” Sylvie recoiled and touched her face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m suddenly talking about your face.”

“Tell me. What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing. Not like that.” Ade laughed. “I just mean that your face is so clear. I know what you mean by looking at you. It’s not the same with other people.”

A contentment flowed deep inside Sylvie.

No one had ever told her that her facial expressions were readable.

It was a weird compliment. But from Ade, it meant the world.

She loved that she could relieve some of the agony of her failed communication, and that she made it a little easier to be understood.

In the silence, the room’s air grew closer, and Sylvie’s cheeks burned with the intensity of the moment.

The electricity buzzed between them and Sylvie found a little something of herself, a meaning she didn’t know she was craving until that very second.

Her ears popped with the pressure when she swallowed.

“I’m glad for you.” They weren’t the words she’d intended.

They fell flat, in a patronizing way she hadn’t meant.

What she’d wanted to say was something like “me too.” But the right formation of sounds and letters eluded her.

She searched Ade’s face for signs of recognition or understanding, but Ade was clearly no mind reader. She’d just admitted she could barely read people’s tone and body language, what hope did she have of interpreting what was left so devastatingly unsaid?

Sylvie rubbed her eyes until all the colors of the rainbow collided inside her brain. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve slept all that well, and the words aren’t really coming to me right now.”

“I get it,” Ade said, with a finality that drew their sweet moment of connection to a close.

Sylvie had wasted the opportunity to mirror Ade’s emotions.

She’d shut the door on her openness and honesty.

Her regret flooded the room, and she stood, her legs twitching with anxiety, wanting to escape more than ever.

“Let’s reconvene when we’re both refreshed and back on campus.

We can go over the schedules and milestones for the next semester. ”

“Absolutely.” Ade nodded, her shoulders dropped as they moved to the door. “Sylvie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Guilt crept through Sylvie’s chest. “What for?”

“For staying with me last night. For helping me at the police station. ”

“No problem.” Sylvie left and wound her way down to street level.

Troubled by the last twenty-four hours, she weaved through the morning rush, sidestepping both the commuters and her feelings about Ade.

Why was she so conflicted? Their friendship was barely beyond the workplace, but there was a hint of so much more.

Was it a threat? Is that why she’d recoiled when Ade had shown so much of herself.

The real question was: what was at risk? Her career or her heart?