Adam rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn as he sat in the hospital room at his wife’s bedside. He hadn’t gotten enough sleep the past couple nights. Now he scoured his mind trying to think of a safe topic of conversation, but he was finding it difficult to concentrate. The topic dominating his thoughts was not one he intended to discuss out loud. It had been two nights now since he and the nanny had their little music lesson in the library. “Just one kiss,” he’d promised himself. But, of course, it wasn’t a promise he’d been able to keep. He couldn’t suppress the memory of it now, playing over and over in his mind.

He had kissed her gently at first, half expecting her to pull away, but she’d wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against him. He’d tilted his head and deepened the kiss, and she’d opened her mouth, following his lead. They’d ended up on the loveseat, silently making out for what seemed like hours – like a couple of teenagers who’d just discovered kissing for the first time.

He probably should have let it begin and end there, in the library, fully clothed. That would have been a good idea. Good ideas didn’t really seem to be his forte these days. Instead, he’d stood up and taken her by the hand, and led her through the hall and up the stairs and past her bedroom door. That would have been another good place to stop. Kiss her one last time. Say goodnight. But no, he’d led her right past her bedroom door to his own. And she’d followed him.

“Is this OK?” he’d whispered after he’d led her inside and shut the door. She’d nodded and put her hands on his chest, tracing the shape of his pecs through the fabric of his t-shirt. He’d pulled the shirt off over his head and then put his arms around her waist, kissing her again and backing her up toward the bed.

She’d been a total novice of course. That hadn’t come as a surprise. He’d asked her before if she had a boyfriend, and she’d sarcastically replied, “No, not a lot of boys hanging around at a Catholic girls’ home. Except for priests.” He’d had to teach her everything. Where to touch. Where to kiss. She’d gasped out loud when he finally let her see the full effect she had on him. “Should we stop?” he’d whispered, seeing the shocked expression on her face. She’d shaken her head. “Can I touch it?” she’d whispered back. It had been a long night.

He’d awoken sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the first rays of dawn just filtering in through the window. He’d watched her sleeping peacefully for a moment. Her skin was so smooth and white, like a fresh blanket of newly fallen snow before it’s been all trampled and muddied. He’d run a finger along the edge of her jaw. It wasn’t a beautiful face – not in any traditional sense. But there was something about her mouth, wide and full, that he found irresistibly inviting.

She’d opened her eyes at his touch and looked back at him. “You’d better get back to your room,” he’d whispered. “It would be weird for Adele to find you here.” She’d nodded, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness. She’d looked very young all of a sudden. Young and frightened. He’d put out an arm and touched her hip. “Are you OK?” But that only made her look like she was about to cry.

He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, looking down into her face.

“Are you going to fire me?” she’d whispered tremulously. He’d been shocked at the question.

“Of course I’m not going to fire you! Why would I fire you?”

She’d shrugged and then buried her face into his shoulder. “I don’t know. Because it’ll be weird for Adele?”

He’d put his hands on either side of her face and tilted it back up to look at him. “I’m an asshole,” he’d said with a wry grin, “But I’m not that big of an asshole.” She’d broken into a smile then, and he’d kissed her lightly on the lips. “Let’s just—let’s just see what happens, OK?” She’d accepted his words and crept back to her own room for the rest of the night.

He’d spent the next day going over in his head what to do. It was messy. She was his daughter’s nanny. It was a bad idea. Terrible idea. Not to mention that he was married. Not to mention that she still didn’t know that he was married. Don’t forget that. And now was definitely not the time to come clean about that. No, now that he’d slept with her, he was fully committed to the lie. The best thing to do now was to nip it in the bud. They’d had a good time, a fun night, and that would be the end of it.

She hadn’t come down to the library the next evening. She’d holed up in her room instead after tucking Adele in for the night. He’d waited until late to see if she’d come down, and then he’d finally gone and knocked softly on her door, bracing for the conversation. Letting a girl down easy was never fun – especially if you still had to see her on a daily basis.

She’d opened the door and stood before him in a short, white cotton nightgown. “Listen,” he’d begun, “I—“ She hadn’t waited for him to finish his sentence. She’d slipped the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders and let it slide down the length of her body to the floor. She stood before him naked and raised her eyes to meet his, vulnerable and unsure, offering herself to him, waiting to see if he would want her. And dear God, did he want her. They’d ended up in her narrow twin bed, and he’d been the one who had slunk back to his own room in the middle of the night. So much for nipping it in the bud. No, he was in it up to his neck now. One night could be chalked up to bit of fun between friends, never to be repeated. Two nights… that was a different story.

Now here he was, sitting silently in his wife’s hospital room, feeling guilty as hell. The iPod was playing as usual, and he could only laugh at the song that came up next. How appropriate, he thought. The song he’d written to commemorate all the sorry lines he’d uttered to women over the years, to mark the permanent end to his long career of commitment-phobia.

I'm not a fortune teller.
I won't be bringing news
Of what tomorrow brings.
I'll leave that up to you.

I'm not a fortune teller.
Don't have a crystal ball.
I can't predict the future.
Can't see nothing at all.

***

Jane lay motionless in the hospital bed, willing her hand to move. She’d been wiggling her finger earlier this morning, and she’d been conserving her energy all day waiting for Adam’s visit. But now that he was here, all the progress she’d made seemed to have vanished, and she found herself helplessly paralyzed again. She could have screamed in frustration.

Adam seemed unusually quiet today. Subdued. It wasn’t like him. It worried her, but she tried not to think about what it meant, listening to the music instead. Fortune Teller was playing. He’d laughed that ugly, bitter laugh when the song had come on just now. That worried her too.

She tried to reassure herself, thinking back to the time when he first wrote the lyrics. It had been just before their wedding. They’d decided to write their own vows, and she’d been working on hers for days, but he hadn’t breathed a word about it in weeks. She was starting to worry that he’d forgotten.

Unable to fight the curiosity any longer, she’d snuck into his bedside table, searching for evidence that he’d at least started thinking about it. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when she found the sheet of notebook paper folded in half. WEDDING VOWS, he’d printed in his most careful handwriting. PRIVATE.

Of course, she hadn’t been able to resist looking. Just a peek. It was supposed to be a surprise, but he would never know the difference. She’d unfolded the paper and skimmed her eyes over the words. Song lyrics, clearly, but not the kind of song she was hoping to hear:

I don't like watching TV.
I don't know what it all means.
And your American dream,
Baby, it just isn't me.

I know that what I'm thinking
May not be on your mind.
I know the song I'm singing
Is not your favorite kind. 

It doesn't mean I'm afraid
Of all the things that you say,
But I just think we should stay
Stuck in the moment today…

She’d refolded the paper hastily and jammed it into her pocket, feeling her stomach churn at what she’d just read. What did it mean? Was he getting cold feet? She’d spent the whole day in agony, wondering what to do. Should she say something to him? Should she confess that she’d been going through his things?

In the end, she’d decided to confront him. It was too important. If he wasn’t ready to get married, better to hear it now than when she was standing up in front of all those people, getting jilted at the altar.          

She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she was expecting from him when she finally pulled out the piece of paper and showed it to him. Maybe anger. Maybe guilt. Definitely not that broad grin he’d flashed at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“What?” he’d asked her innocently. “You don’t like my vows?”

“Adam, what does this mean?”

He’d started singing those noncommittal lines before trailing off into laughter.

I'll never know
How the future will go.
I don't know what to tell you,
I'm not a fortune teller…

“This isn’t funny!” She’d felt tears pricking her eyes. Was he telling her the wedding was off?

He came and took the paper out of her hands then, struggling but not quite succeeding in wiping the smile off of his face. “Little girl,” he said, taking one of her hands and looking down into her eyes. “You don’t think I’d leave my real vows there for you to find, do you?”

“What do you mean? This isn’t it?”

“Seriously? ‘And your American dream, baby it just isn’t me’?”

“So what is this then?”

“This,” he said, folding up the piece of paper again and holding it out to her, “This is your punishment for snooping.”

She tried to be annoyed, but she’d only felt an overwhelming sense of relief. “You knew I’d cheat?” she asked him with a sheepish smile.  

He was chuckling again as he put his arms around her. “So predictable,” he’d said. “Anyway, I needed another song for the album.”

“So is this even about me?”

“Nah.” He’d shrugged, still grinning at her. “It’s pretty much a compilation of all the bullshit I’ve ever used to string along women who were trying to get me to commit.”

She’d wrinkled her forehead at him in confusion. “You don’t have to commit,” she said. “You proposed to me, remember? This was your idea.”

“I know.” His face was growing serious now. “And I’m ready.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’m positive.”

“And you have other vows?”

“I’m good to go,” he’d said, smiling again. “Give me a little credit, please.”

She should never have doubted him. The wedding was a little over a week later, and the real vows had been a showstopper. He hadn’t been content just to say some words to her, of course. Not Adam. Not Adam up on a stage in front of a crowd. He never had met a stage he didn’t like. She’d said her piece and then he’d turned to his best man. Jesse was ready with the acoustic guitar. They must have hidden it up there ahead of time. Somehow she hadn’t recognized the song until he started singing the words, and then it hit her. Of course. It was the cover from the latest Adele album that she’d been so obsessed with. It was Lovesong.

Whenever I'm alone with you,
You make me feel like I am home again.
Whenever I'm alone with you,
You make me feel like I am whole again.

It wasn’t the song that was playing on the iPod now, but she could hear it anyway inside her head. She could see the look of certainty in his eyes as he’d faced her and sung those words, and she’d listened to the vow that they contained.

However far away, I will always love you.
However long I stay, I will always love you.
Whatever words I say, I will always love you.
I will always love you.

Those were the only words that mattered, she tried to reassure herself, as she struggled again in vain to move her hand. That was the commitment he had made to her.

She only hoped to God that he had meant it.