The grinding grew louder, accompanied by a high-pitched whine that made me wince. Adrien guided the car toward the shoulder, but we weren't in a good part of town.
"Of all the nights," Adrien muttered as the car shuddered to a complete stop. He tried the ignition twice, but the engine only coughed pathetically before dying entirely.
I pulled out my phone. "I'll call a tow truck."
"At midnight? In this neighborhood?" He was already scanning the street, his protective instincts kicking in. "We would be waiting at least two hours, probably more. And I don't like the way those guys are looking at us."
"There," Adrien said suddenly, pointing down the block. A sign read "STARLIGHT MOTEL" in faded blue letters, half of them burned out. It looked like the kind of place that rented rooms by the hour, but right now it looked like salvation. "We get a room, wait until morning, then deal with the car."
The motel lobby smelled like cigarettes and Pine-Sol. A bored elderly man sat behind bulletproof glass, watching a small television that played an infomercial for kitchen knives.
"Two rooms, please," Adrien said, sliding his credit card under the glass partition.
The clerk didn't even look up. "Only got one left. Construction convention in town. Every cheap place is booked."
My stomach dropped. I saw Adrien's shoulders tense.
"One room," the clerk repeated, finally glancing up at us with rheumy eyes. "Take it or leave it. Won't find anything else around here this time of night."
Adrien looked at me, and I could see the conflict in his face. Stay in the car in a dangerous neighborhood, or share a room with his ex-wife while engaged to another woman.
"We'll take it," I said before he could argue. "It's just for one night."
"I'll sleep in the chair," Adrien said immediately, dropping his bag and eyeing the worn armchair near the window.
"Don't be ridiculous. We're both adults. We can share a bed for one night without" I stopped. Without what? Without remembering what it used to be like? Adrien ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration I knew intimately. "Fine. But I'm staying on my side."
The tension in the room was thick. I grabbed my bag. "I'm taking a shower first."
When I put on my sleep clothes, yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, Adrien was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his phone with a frown.
"Sophie?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
"She's called three times." He set the phone face-down on the nightstand. "I texted her that we're following a lead and I would call tomorrow."
When he put on his track pants and a fitted t-shirt, his dark hair still damp and curling slightly at the ends, my breath caught. He had always been beautiful, but there was something about seeing him like this, unguarded and domestic, that transported me back to a thousand other nights.
"I'll take the left side," he said quietly. "You always preferred the right."
The fact that he remembered shouldn't have meant anything. But it did.
"Do you remember that road trip we took to Maine?" I finally asked into the darkness, unable to bear the long silence any longer.
I felt Adrien shift beside me. "The one where we got lost because you insisted we didn't need GPS?"
"The scenic route is never really lost," I defended, and was rewarded with a soft huff of laughter.
"We ended up in that tiny town," he continued, his voice warming. "With that bed and breakfast."
We both fell silent again, but this time it felt softer. Witthout meaning to I shifted slightly toward the center of the bed.
"We were happy then," Adrien said quietly.
"Yes."
Then Adrien cleared his throat and rolled onto his back, deliberately creating space between us again. "We should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow."
"Right." I turned to face the wall, my heart hammering. "Goodnight."
But sleep wouldn't come. I lay there in the darkness, hyperaware of every sound he made, every shift of the mattress. After what felt like an hour, I heard his breathing change and he was still awake too.
"Elena?" His voice was soft in the darkness.
"Yeah?"
"Why did you really leave?"
The question I had been dreading. I rolled onto my back, staring at the water-stained ceiling. "That's a complicated question."
"We have all night."
I took a shaky breath and continued "After we lost the baby, I fell apart. You saw it happening, but I don't think you understood how bad it got."
"Tell me," he said, and suddenly his hand found mine in the darkness, his fingers threading through mine with heartbreaking familiarity.
"I started having panic attacks," I whispered. "Horrible ones. I would lock myself in the bathroom and cry until I threw up. Every room in that penthouse felt like a memorial to what we had lost."
I sat up, needing distance, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed with my back to him. "
His hand touched my shoulder, gentle.
I should have moved away. Should have maintained the distance. Instead, I turned to face him, and suddenly we were too close, our faces just inches apart in the dim light filtering through the window.
"For what it's worth," I whispered, "leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life."
His eyes dropped to my lips. I saw him swallow hard. "Elena..."
"I know," I said quickly. "Sophie. You're engaged. I'm not trying to"
"I miss you," he interrupted, the words seeming to escape against his will. "God, I shouldn't say that. But I miss you."
"I miss you too."
We were leaning toward each other, drawn by gravity and memory and three years of longing. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb brushing away a tear.
Then his phone buzzed, shattering the moment. We both jerked back as if burned.
Adrien grabbed the phone, glancing at the screen. "It's Sophie. Again."
He stood abruptly and walked to the window, putting the width of the room between us. He stared out at the parking lot, his shoulders tense, the phone clutched in his hand.
"You should call her back," I said.
"It's after midnight. I'll text her."
I watched as he typed out a message. When he was done, he stayed at the window, his back to me.
"This is a mistake," he said quietly. "Being here together like this."
"We didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." He turned to face me, and the look in his eyes made my chest ache. "I can't do this, Elena. Whatever I'm feeling right now it's not fair to Sophie. She deserves better than a man who's..."
"Still hung up on his ex-wife?" I finished for him.
He didn't deny it. "I should sleep in the chair."
"Adrien"
"Please." His voice was almost desperate. "I need the distance."
He grabbed a pillow and the thin blanket from the bed and settled into the uncomfortable armchair.
I lay back down, pulling the covers up to my chin, and stared at the ceiling. Across the room, I could hear Adrien shifting, trying to get comfortable in a chair that was never meant for sleeping.
"Adrien?" I said after a few minutes.
"Yeah?"
"I am really sorry. For everything."
"I know." His voice was soft, tired. "Me too."
An hour passed. Then two. I could tell from his breathing that Adrien wasn't sleeping any better than I was. The chair creaked every time he moved.
"This is ridiculous," I finally said. "You're going to be useless tomorrow if you don't sleep."
"I'll manage."
"Your back is going to be destroyed. Just... come back to bed. We'll keep to our sides.
For a long moment, he didn't respond. Then I heard the chair creak as he stood. The mattress dipped as he climbed back into bed, but this time he stayed as far to his edge as physically possible.
"Thank you," he muttered.
"This is absurd," I said after a while. "We're both adults who used to be married. We can share a bed without" "Without what happened before?" Adrien interrupted. "I'm not sure we can, Elena. Being this close to you..." He took a shaky breath. "It's harder than I thought it would be."
My heart was racing. "For me too."
Another beat of silence. Then, almost against my will, I asked, "Do you love her?
Sophie?"
I felt him tense beside me. "That's not a fair question."
"I know. I'm sorry. Don't mind me."
"She's good to me," he said after a moment. "Patient. Understanding. She doesn't deserve" He stopped abruptly.
"Doesn't deserve you still thinking about your ex-wife," I finished quietly.
"Yeah."
But even with our backs to each other, with the deliberate space we created, I could still feel him there. In that run-down motel room where circumstances had forced us together, the only thing I could think about was the man lying inches away from me, close enough to touch but infinitely far away, and the marriage I had destroyed, and whether some broken things could ever truly be repaired.