by Noelle Adams
This whole thing already hurt enough.
He’d not been out and about, so he hadn’t seen her around. But there was a wedding coming up in a few weeks that he knew she’d be attending. He was invited too, and he’d been planning to go, but he was torn now about whether he should.
He couldn’t hide from her forever, however. It would be easier to just get the first encounter over with. He wouldn’t put her on the spot. He wouldn’t act like he was hoping for more from her. He’d act like his normal self—cool and distant and unconcerned—and they’d both go back to business as usual.
That was what he should do, and after the wedding it would all be easier.
“Nothing important happened,” he told Taylor, clearly and with his typical composure. He felt better now that he’d made that decision. “My heart isn’t broken. I promise.”
She peered at his face. “Really? Then why did you stop dating?”
“I don’t know. I just haven’t been in the mood. I’m taking a break for a while, but I’m really fine.”
“Okay. I hope so. I just wanted to...” She shook her head roughly. “I just wanted to say that Amanda is amazing. And I know she’s my friend and it’s a little weird that you’d... I mean, you’re older, but you’re not that old. And if that’s the reason you think you can’t... I mean, it’s fine with me. If you want to... Oh shit. I’m shutting up now.”
Despite the weird twisting in his chest and gut, he couldn’t help but chuckle dryly about Taylor’s garbled but sincere proclamation. “Thanks, Taylor. Seriously. I appreciate it. But I’m fine. And I’m not heartbroken or anything close.”
“Okay. Okay. I get it. I’ll stop prying and go back to what I do best. Minding my own business.”
She smiled at him, and he walked her back to the door.
Despite her words and the way they’d left things after his assurance that he was fine, Robert wasn’t sure she’d believed him.
THE SATURDAY OF SHELLY’S wedding turned out perfect. An ideal day in May. Sunny and warm with a light breeze to keep it from becoming uncomfortably hot. It was perfect for a garden wedding. The flowers were blooming, the bride and groom were happy, and the bridesmaid dresses were a hit.
Amanda should have been pleased. She should have been having a very good time. And she would be if Robert hadn’t shown up and wasn’t currently acting like she didn’t exist.
It shouldn’t have been a surprise that he was invited. His family was good friends with Shelly’s family, just as Amanda’s was. But she wasn’t sure why he’d decided to come since he wasn’t close with either the bride or the groom. And if he did insist on coming, why couldn’t he act like a decent human being and maybe smile and say hello to her?
He did neither. Through the whole ceremony and most of the reception, he studiously avoided her.
Either he was doing it on purpose or he genuinely cared nothing about her at all.
She’d hate for it to be the latter even though the former infuriated her.
She’d been good to him during their night together. She’d been as generous in bed as he’d been—as generous as she’d known how to be. She thought she’d treated him pretty well.
She hadn’t done anything to deserve being ignored this way.
For a while she’d thought she was wrong about him, but she hadn’t been after all.
The man was truly an asshole.
She stewed about it during the ceremony as she kept a wide, pretty smile on her face. And she stewed about it as they took endless photographs afterward. And she stewed about it when they went over to the reception, which was taking place in the garden’s reception room and patio.
She stewed about it so much that she eventually had to act on it, so she started strategically placing herself right in Robert’s path.
Just to see what he would do.
He made a detour to talk to the bride’s parents to keep from encountering her by the bar. And he made a U-turn to keep from running into her at the restrooms. She really thought she had him when he came to get a piece of wedding cake, but he pretended to get a call and walked out onto the patio to “take it.”
She stared out the french doors at him.
The absolute bastard.
What kind of childish move was that?
If he didn’t want to talk to her or see her again, he could just say it right to her face.
Amanda had always had a quick tongue, but she didn’t have a quick temper. She was usually in control of herself, and she only showed anger when she thought it would do some good.
But she wasn’t doing it strategically right now. She was simply mad. Mad as hell. She’d spent week after week trying to get over Robert. Trying to get him out of her head. And he was acting like this.
No.
No.
She didn’t deserve to be treated this way.
She’d gotten a new glass of champagne a few minutes ago—only her second since she’d learned her lesson about drinking too much at weddings—but she hadn’t had a chance to even take a sip. She carried it outside with her, too distracted to find a place to set it down.
Robert was standing by a railing that looked down on the rose beds. He wasn’t pretending to be on the phone anymore, although he still held it in his hand. He was leaning on the rail, propped up on his forearms.
He looked tired. Exhausted really.
Amanda didn’t care. She was tired too, and she wasn’t the one acting like an ass.
She pasted on her pageant smile as she approached—the smile that was too big, too perfect, too fake. “Important phone call, was it?” she asked in a lilting voice.
He jerked so hard she could see it in his neck and shoulders. His head swung around in her direction. “What? Oh no. It wasn’t anything.”
“Well, clearly it was important enough to keep you from getting within ten feet of me.”
He frowned, straightening up. He had the gall to look confused. “Excuse me?”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Her tone was still sugary sweet. Her mother would be so proud. “I don’t tend to excuse men who fuck me and then treat me like trash.”
“Trash?” He knew what she’d been talking about before when she’d alluded to his avoiding her. She’d seen it in his face. But his reaction now was different. He was surprised. Offended. “I didn’t treat you like trash.”
“Then what exactly do you call this? Acting like I’m invisible. Running in circles to keep from talking to me. How exactly do you think that makes me feel?”
She knew this was a mistake even as the words were leaving her mouth. She never left herself vulnerable this way, never admitted something had wounded her. But she couldn’t seem to help it right now. She had to say it. Had to make him hear it. Had to see what he would say in response. How it would make him feel.
It clearly made him feel annoyed. “I wasn’t running in circles,” he snapped back. “Don’t be ridiculous. I just thought it would be easier.”
“What would be easier? For whom would it be easier? Easier for you, I assume. Because it sure as hell isn’t easier for me.”
“Well, I’m sorry if I did the wrong thing.” He was scowling now. He didn’t know how to do the pageant smile like she did. “You don’t have to attack me for it.”
“Attack you? Attack you?” Her smile finally faded. She was so angry her teeth were actually snapping now. “You think I’m attacking you? By coming over here and trying to have a conversation like an adult? You’re the one who is too scared to even talk to me.”
“Scared? What exactly am I supposed to be scared about?” His tone wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. His mood was evident from the tense set of his shoulders and the flashing of his dark eyes.
“I don’t even know! Maybe you think I’m such a silly fool that I’ve fallen for you or something ridiculous like that. If that’s the case, let me assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. The sex was pretty good, but it takes more than that to make a real impressio
n on me.”
He scowled and took a step back. “Well, thank you very much,” he bit out, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s always nice to know I’ve failed to impress a girl so much.”
“I am not a girl. I’m a fully grown woman who knows what she’s doing. I made a choice to be with you that night, and I would have thought we could interact like adults afterward. But clearly not.”
“Clearly not,” he repeated. “Since you prefer to bite my head off without provocation.”
“Without provocation? You think this is without provocation? I promise you I had provocation. I had nothing but provocation. For weeks now.”
“I haven’t even laid eyes on you since that night.” He pushed a hand through his hair in a distracted gesture that wasn’t at all like him. “How exactly have I been provoking you all this time?” He paused briefly but didn’t leave her enough time to respond. “Unless you’ve been hoping that I’m the silly fool who’s been doing nothing but pining for you? Is that it? Is that what you’re so upset about? Because I’m not falling at your feet like everyone else?”
She was so infuriated she sputtered. She actually sputtered.
She’d never once sputtered before. Not in her whole life.
But the words wouldn’t come. No clever or cutting remarks rose into her throat. It was galling. Maddening. She couldn’t even speak, but she had to let him know how angry she was.
It wasn’t just a wish. It was a bone-deep need.
She wasn’t a violent person. She never would have struck someone. Not even with a fairly harmless slap.
But she had a glass of champagne at her disposal. It was still clutched in her hand.
So she flung it at him. Not the glass itself. Just the liquid. She’d aimed it well, so it went sloshing out in a wet wave right in his face.
He blinked as the champagne streamed down his skin, soaking his collar, his tie, and the lapels of his jacket. Some of his hair was sticking to his face wetly.
“What...?” The word was choked out. He clearly couldn’t believe she’d done it.
She couldn’t believe it either.
But she hadn’t hurt him. She’d only gotten him wet. And if anyone deserved it, he did.
So she turned on her heel and clipped a dignified retreat back into the reception room.
Unfortunately, as she did, she noticed quite a few people gathered at the window, watching her.
Watching them.
It must have been clear they were arguing, and that had drawn a certain amount of attention. Then her tossing a glass of champagne in his face would have gotten even more.
Shit.
Everyone had just seen that stupid, embarrassing fight.
Now they’d all want to know what was happening between them, and Amanda had no idea what to tell them.
Damn Robert anyway.
He’d gotten her into this mess to begin with. Why couldn’t he have kept his dry wit and his cleverly arched eyebrows and his skillful hands and lips and body and his cold, hard heart to himself?
six
“I KNOW, TAYLOR. I KNOW.” Amanda’s tone was maybe slightly impatient as she talked into her phone, but it was the best she could do at the moment. It was less than twelve hours after the disastrous wedding reception yesterday, and she’d had call after call since nine this morning. Some callers had been genuinely concerned about her while others had simply been curious.
Taylor was the former, so Amanda wasn’t really annoyed. Just tired.
So tired.
“I know he’s your uncle and I’m your friend, and you’re kind of stuck in the middle and it must feel awkward, but—”
“Awkward? I don’t feel awkward. I feel freakin’ pissed. I like my little world settled, and this has riled it up in a way that’s highly disturbing. I’m not trying to be a peacemaker here or something ridiculous like that. I just want things to be quiet again. I don’t deal well with people around me being mad.”
Amanda couldn’t help but laugh. When she was emotionally unsettled, she liked mindless tasks, so she’d cleaned her whole house this morning and had moved on to laundry. She put the call on speaker so she could start folding a T-shirt with unnecessary precision. “I definitely didn’t mean to create noise in your world. And I’m not mad at him.”
When Taylor gave a disbelieving grunt, Amanda went on quickly. “Not anymore. I’m really not. I just feel ick about the whole thing. I wish it had never happened.”
“Me too, but sadly that’s not a possibility anymore.” Taylor paused. “Was he really a jerk to you?”
“No. Yes. No.” Amanda groaned. “I don’t even know anymore. He wasn’t before. I mean before yesterday. But it felt like he was yesterday. And I reacted badly. I really don’t know what happened. I never lose my temper that way.”
“Well, Robert has a particular talent for making people snap. But I swear I don’t think he intended it. He feels really bad about it today.”
“Does he?” Maybe she sounded a little bit needy, but that wasn’t something she could help. She really wanted to know.
“Yes. He does.”
“He’s not annoyed with me? Or thinking I’m some hysterical, insecure idiot who—?”
“Amanda, stop. You’re being stupid. He feels bad. I don’t know exactly what happened, but anyone with a brain would know that he must be mostly to blame for it. You’re normally the most sensible, levelheaded person I know.”
Amanda leaned back in her chair, smiling and internally cringing at the same time. “I don’t feel sensible or levelheaded lately. I feel really stupid. But I feel bad about it too. So I should probably give him a call and apologize for the unfortunate champagne-throwing incident.”
Taylor laughed. “That wouldn’t be out of line.”
“Or maybe I’ll just send him a text.”
“That would be okay too.”
“We might as well get things settled in some way. We’re going to keep seeing each other around.” Amanda was reminding herself of that truth as much as she was telling Taylor. “If only at all these endless weddings. He’s going to Michelle’s wedding next weekend. Down at Hilton Head.”
“What? The one on the yacht? Why is he going to that wedding? She didn’t get to invite most of us from school because the guest list is so small. And he’s got no connection to Michelle.”
“I know.” Amanda groaned, cringing about the upcoming event, which she could foresee would be either awkward or painful. “But I guess he’s good friends with Michelle’s fiancé. The man is like fifteen years older than Michelle, and he and Robert went to grad school together. So he’s going to be there. And I’m going to be there. And I won’t have the normal safety net of all our normal people around. I’m seriously considering telling Michelle I’ve taken deathly ill.”
“I’m sure that’s tempting, but you’re a bridesmaid and you’d never shirk your duty that way. I’m glad you’re going to be there since most of us from school aren’t able to go. Why did she feel the need to get married on a yacht? And so far away?”
“It’s not that far.”
“It’s six hours, isn’t it?”
“Yes. A little longer, actually. I’m having to take Friday off from work so I can drive down in time for the rehearsal dinner. It’ll be fine. I’d just be happier if Robert wasn’t going to be there.”
“Well, I guess he will be. And you’re going to reach out to settle things between you guys before then anyway. Right?”
Amanda made a moderately affirming sound.
“Right?” Taylor prompted again.
“Yes. Right. I will. I promise. I’ll text him.”
“Today.”
“Tonight.”
“Okay. Fine. Tonight.”
“I’ll do it. And I’ll let you know when I do. But I’m not sure why I’m the recipient of this lecture. Maybe you should give it to Robert.”
“I already did,” Taylor told her just before she hung up.
Amanda shook her head
at her phone and then put it down so she could fold another T-shirt. She’d gotten three more done before her doorbell rang.
Almost no one stopped by her town house. The most likely reason for an unexpected visitor was a package she needed to sign for. So she got up and glanced down at herself before she walked to the door.
She had on leggings and a T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but hopefully her T-shirt was roomy enough to hide the fact. She certainly wasn’t going to race to her room to put on a bra for a deliveryman.
When she glanced out the window by the door to check who it was, she froze.
Robert.
Wearing khakis and a dark blue crewneck.
Standing right there on her doorstep.
She couldn’t move for several seconds. She had no idea what she should do. What the hell was he even doing here?
“Can you please open the door for a minute?” he said just then. He must have seen her through the window. “I don’t have to come in.”
She took a ragged breath and turned the knob, pulling the door open and staring at him through the storm door before she opened that one too.
His eyes ran up and down her body quickly before they returned to her face. He didn’t look angry or annoyed or unsettled or upset. Or particularly contrite.
He mostly just looked quiet.
“Sorry to just show up like this,” he said. “I kept trying to call, but it felt off somehow. So I finally just came over.”
“That’s okay. I was going to call you today anyway.” Then some instinct caused her to add, “Or text or something.”
He nodded. Opened his mouth but then closed it again. He shifted his weight slightly before he began. “So here’s the thing. I’m sorry. For being an ass. For everything. I promise I wasn’t trying to be. I’m sure you won’t believe me, but I thought I was making things easier. By keeping a little distance. But I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and I realize I was just making things easier for myself.”
