Leaving Amy (Amy #2)

by Julieann Dove

  “Are you saying we’ve got a chance at getting back together?” He looked over at me with his brown eyes in begging fashion.

  And then the train stopped. All the good thoughts chugging through my mind came to a complete halt. I could hear the brakes screeching, smell the smoke burning… Back together?

  “Wesley—”

  “Amy, just give it some thought. This could be us. We could live out the life our parents started.”

  My mom and dad. Now he’d made it about them. We were officially hitching them to the proposal of getting back together. Like couples do for the sake of the children. Mom and Dad. I tried to put the image out of my head. There were so many things swirling around now about them. Broken vows and lies. But wasn’t that what my life had become, too? Wesley’s broken vows to me? Was Mom looking the other way and accepting my dad had cheated? Did she know? Maybe know all along? What if they never crashed? What then?

  “Wesley, I think you need to put all your focus on passing the exam. Not on us getting back together.”

  “Will you just have an open mind to it?” He tilted his head and gave me a big frowny face. The kind that gets a kid a triple-scoop cone of ice cream. Even if they just pinched you and made you cry.

  “Sure.”

  I don’t know whether I was just saying it or I’d have the open mind. I never liked to let someone down, especially when he was so genuine. And needed my help in pulling off this practice takeover. I needed time, though. I just broke up with Mark. And although I did feel a few sparks fly when Wesley wore his heart on his sleeve, talking about touching me and other things, I wasn’t rushing into any decisions. I needed a clear head and time to think about this seriously.

  “Do you want to stay at our house?”

  Red flag number one. Our house? Our house became merely 5421 Finley Avenue the moment he left and flew away to Nevada. With slow-flower-grower girl.

  “No, that’s okay. Remember? I don’t live there anymore. You can drop me back at the hotel and I’ll drive to my apartment.”

  “But aren’t you supposed to be out by the end of the month? You can move back until we figure out the next step.”

  Red flag number two. The next step. No, thank you; I can do the figuring out somewhere else…by myself. With no type of Wesley-like distractions. No I love you and I was a big fat jerk. No I’ll digress to being a toilet bowl wiper and never soar to being an attorney if you don’t come back to me. I just needed time…and lots of space to figure this out.

  He parked next to my car and the silence was deafening. I could imagine myself seeing his Jeep in my rearview mirror and all this awkwardness behind us. But what to do in the meantime?

  “Do you have any plans for Saturday night?”

  Hello? I just broke up with my boyfriend. Give me some time to have the usual week of guilt-free ice cream, breakup songs, and wondering what I’ll ever do without seeing that smile on Mark’s face ever again.

  “I think I’m going to be doing something.” How lame. Couldn’t I have just said learning crochet or washing my hair?

  “Amy, I want to take you out on a date.”

  “Duly noted, Wesley. But I’ve just ended a relationship. Don’t you think it’s bad form to be seen out dating someone else so soon?” I was not sincere. I hope he picked up on the sarcasm.

  “Out with someone? I’m your husband, Amy.”

  “And what were you when you were living with what’s-her-name?” Cheap shot, I know. But he asked for it. Don’t use titles only when it’s convenient.

  “Fine. But can I call you next week? Will you consider a date in the near future?”

  I had zero ability to dash someone’s hopes. I even let the mothball guy from work continue to bring me pieces of sponge cake for lunch. He’d smile as I force-fed it to myself, just so he wouldn’t feel bad. I swore that was the reason I got diarrhea that next week. It usually takes some types of mold time to regenerate in the system before being purged. From there on out, I’d hide under my desk when I heard the scuffing of his big black shoes come near my door.

  “Okay, Wesley. I’ll consider a date.”

  A smile lit his entire face. I hadn’t seen that much teeth since someone forced him to smile for a picture ad they took out in the paper for the law practice to drum up new clients.

  Chapter Twelve

  I was never so glad to be walking up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. The same stairs I grumbled on while having to carry ten bags of groceries because I was determined to make it in one trip. Home sweet home! Even if only for another week. And sharing space with packed cardboard boxes. It was indeed my private spot in the world. The only one I could lay claim to for the moment.

  I flung the door open and felt for the light switch. I flipped it up. Nothing. My eyes widened, trying to see through the darkness. What was going on? I got out my pocket flashlight. Yes, I had one. It was attached to my mugger alarm and pepper spray. This girl was ready, but this girl didn’t want problems. Luckily, the pepper hadn’t been squirted, the alarm only once hit for testing purposes, and now the flashlight was earning its space in my purse.

  I walked through the haunted-like mausoleum of my cardboard box sanctuary. Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse. Thank goodness; I feared I’d see some in this place. Especially living across the way from Mr. Bender. Strange odors always wafted to the breezeway when he was home. I was sure it would draw rodents, as it did well to deter me from walking near his door.

  I tried another light switch. Nothing. And then it hit me. I had the electric shut off, thinking I’d be moved in with Mark by now. I was just going to pay a fee to the super to have the place cleaned if needed. I’d pretty much already done all the work myself, though. Oh well, that certainly didn’t work in my favor. With the holiday weekend here, I was pretty sure no one was at the electric office, waiting on pins and needles for a call requesting electricity. What to do?

  There was only one thing to do. When I picked up my car from the hotel, the parking lot was packed. Everyone was visiting relatives and the lucky ones had reserved themselves a room. With no vacant hotels in the vicinity, Tom was my last resort. Funny thing about Tom; he was always my last resort. Always there. I’d just drive over to his house, plead to stay until I found my way out of this horrific jam, and hunker down with a gallon of ice cream and two spoons—lactose-free, of course. I’m certain he didn’t finish off the last gallon I stocked his freezer with a few months ago. Teaching that man to keep groceries on hand was a chore.

  I pulled up to his house and could’ve sworn the electric company had a conspiracy against me. No lights were on there, either. I turned off my car and walked to the door. I had a key still on my chain from the days I lived there. You know, when I couldn’t go home to Wesley and I had ended it with Mark. Nope, nothing new here!

  I called out to him as I flung open the door. It’s only natural. Entering someone else’s house and all. I flipped the light switch. Thankfully it worked. I kicked my shoes off and walked to the kitchen. Suddenly I remembered him telling me about having Thanksgiving dinner at his friend’s house. He went every year. They took pity on this homeless man and offered a hot meal on this one day that was nationally recognized for not being alone. I’d just wait for him in the living room. I didn’t want to presume he’d let me stay. I wanted to ask before taking a shower and filling the closet once again with my clothes. Crap. I had to get my life together better than this.

  Waking up with a crick in my neck and feeling as though I was being watched was certainly not what was intended when I closed my eyes to rest them for a second. I must’ve gotten too comfortable in that instant, or too warm after I pulled an ultra-soft blanket from the back of Tom’s chair and laid it over me. The next thing I knew when I opened one eye, Tom was staring at me.

  “Good morning.” His smile spread slowly on his lips as he held his coffee cup.

  I squished my eyes together tightly and opened them up again. “Oh my gosh, Tom. What ti
me is it?”

  He looked down at his watch. “It’s a little after eight. Wanna tell me anything?”

  I stretched first and then sat up, pushing down my hair from all sides. I could only imagine what I looked like.

  “It’s too long of a story.”

  “Lucky for you I’ve got time. My office is closed until Monday.”

  Of course, it was still the dreaded weekend. Still only hours after my relationship ended, and a day after my husband asked me back. Was there a universal fast-forward button and only the privileged knew about it?

  I took a deep breath. “Well, in a nutshell, the whole fairy-tale ending thing I was going for with Mark is over; I spent the night—well, not technically—with Wesley; and now I’m temporarily working for the foundation that operates the nonprofit charities my mother helped bring into existence. For which I have no clue how to do, but I’m helping out a dear friend while she goes on hiatus with her dying husband. Who, incidentally, is one of my father’s old law partners.” I took a breath. “Oh, and now Wesley wants me back. It seems it’s over, as well, with the bimbo he left me for and he wants to give it the ol’ college try with me again.”

  “Wow.” He seemed stunned, not really moving for a minute or two.

  “So, do you mind if I take a shower? I feel really disgusting.” I pulled at my shirt. A puff of stale air wafted from it.

  “You don’t have to ask. You know where your room is.”

  I threw the blanket back and stood. My back screamed a bit. “Thank you, Tom. Once I get the last few days washed off me, I’ll make more sense.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  I found Tom scrambling eggs when I made it back to the kitchen. A plate of buttered toast sat next to the skillet, waiting for the accompaniment of the yellow fluff.

  “Tom, what are you doing?”

  “Amy, I’m making you breakfast. If I know you the way I think I do, you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

  This man had an innate ability to know me. And I liked to think I knew him as well. “So where were you last night? Dinner went on past ten o’clock?” I sat down on the stool. “Must’ve been good.”

  He handed me my plate of goodness. Steam lifted from the eggs, and the toast was the perfect shade of tan. I tried not to salivate like an animal before I took the fork he handed me along with it.

  “I went to Grady’s. He and his wife always have room at their table for poor bachelors like myself.”

  I scooped egg into my mouth and followed it with a bite of bread. The combination was tasty. Salty and sweet. My favorite, blackberry preserves, was lumped on top of the bread. He handed me a bottle of water and took it back to open it first.

  “So it was good?”

  “Yes, but let’s get back to you. How is it that you technically spent the night with Wesley? How exactly is that accomplished? Where were you that this was even a possibility?”

  Right. I hadn’t really mentioned much about Wesley and his treasure trove of problems. I kept most of my drama contained to Mark and me. I was so engrossed with him moving and leaving me, Wesley had become background noise. Funny how Tom picked up on the fact I slept with him.

  “Well, I had to show up at Thanksgiving as his wife so he could get the rest of his trust fund. Then I went to an old friend’s house, got a bit drunk, and Wesley put me to bed…with him.” I put up my hand to clarify. “But not ‘with’ him. Nothing happened.” I finalized the image with air quotes.

  Tom seemed confused. I continued on anyway. With all the time I knew I’d be staying there, he’d eventually have all the dots connected.

  “And now he wants you back?” He set down his mug and leaned on the counter.

  “Yes.”

  His eyes looked aimlessly around the room. “So you broke it off with Mark?”

  “Yes.” I shoveled in some more egg. Only tiny scraps were left. Too small not to slip through the slats of my fork. If I was alone, I would’ve licked them off the plate with my tongue.

  “So he’s off to Chicago then?”

  “Yes.” I chugged some of my water. My life could be a reality television show. But with very little sex, and almost no fashion, it probably wouldn’t get picked up after the pilot aired.

  “This Wesley is the same guy who left you for another woman?” He shifted on his other elbow.

  I looked at him and bit my lip. Why does everyone always throw that up in my face? I was there; I’m well aware of his transgressions.

  “Yes.” I looked over my nose in a want-to-make-something-of-it look.

  “Just keeping it straight.” He walked off to rinse my plate.

  “Yes, well, that’s what he’s hoping.” Emphasis on the hoping.

  “And how do you feel about him?” He turned his head so I could hear him over the running water.

  I took in too much air to be believable that it didn’t cross my mind.

  Tom turned around. “Amy…don’t tell me you’re considering it.”

  I put my head down on the counter, avoiding his full-of-disdain stare. He was too close by and wearing it all too well.

  “I told him I needed time.” I peeked up my head a bit. “But it isn’t likely I can say no. Especially now that we need to man up and take over the law firm. It’s not something only one person of the couple can do alone, you know. It takes two. There’s the parties, the fundraisers, and not to mention the client dinners. Still, I need time by myself to think this through.” I lay back down on my folded arms.

  When I didn’t hear a response, I raised my head again. He had walked to the kitchen window and stared outside.

  “What? I do need time. I’m definitely not making any decisions as fast as he’d like me to. He wanted me to come home with him last night.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” He still wasn’t looking at me.

  I couldn’t take his disappointing body language. Didn’t ordinary friends just stand by and let you do stupid things and just stare at you blankly, completely on the fence of whatever made you happy at the time? He was not participating the way he should. Give me some ice cream and say “You go, girl.” Then when it turns out crappy, still hold out that ice cream and call out the jerk for hurting me.

  “Tom, you’re not being on my side.”

  “What side is that, Amy?” He turned around and I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted him on my side. “If you don’t recall, I was with you all those nights when you cried and felt like a failed wife, like a stupid jerk for not seeing him as he was. Like you were betrayed by Mark when he found Wesley’s mistress without so much as telling you about it before ambushing you in the hospital room with her. Yet you took him back. I’m sure you’ll take Wesley back, too. It’s too convenient not to.”

  Whoa. I never saw this side to Tom. What kind of food did they serve at that place last night? Instead of mad cows, was it mad turkeys?

  “Tom, I know I cried on your shoulder. And I told you I’d never be that stupid…and I’m not. This is different. Wesley recognizes how broken we were. It wasn’t all his fault.”

  Tom turned around quickly. “Oh, then he wasn’t the guy sleeping with another woman on the weekends and then coming home to you through the week.” He smoothed out his mustache. “Sorry, I guess I’m a bit confused.”

  I got up and walked over to where he was standing. “Okay, you know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Obviously you have a very closed mind about him. Furthermore, I’m aware of what happened. We’re different now. Don’t you think we all get second chances? He got what he deserved with her. I don’t think he deserves me throwing sand in his eyes when he’s still kneeling from the beating she gave to him.”

  Tom was practically breathing on my neck with how close we stood to one another. I saw him swallow. “You’re right. Just promise me you’ll take it slow.”

  I found it weird he was seconds ago flinging grenades and now retreating. But whatever—I’d take the peace. “I promise.”

  I turned
around to get my water and a card caught my eye on the counter. It was pink, standing out starkly on the dark granite countertop. It was none of my business, but I grabbed it anyway. Hey, he just verbally whipped me for talking nice about my ex-husband. Soon-to-be… whatever.

  Tom was pouring himself another cup of coffee and didn’t see me. I was shocked to find it was someone’s phone number. Kate, to be exact. I couldn’t help myself.

  “And who is Kate, pray tell?”

  He reached for it. “Give me that. What are you doing?”

  I handed it over freely. “Well, who is she?”

  “Someone who my dear friends invited for dinner last night. I think they had hopes of a love connection.” He slipped the note in his pocket.

  “And was it?”

  “She was nice.” He almost left tread on the tile with how fast he walked out of the room. I followed.

  “Nice? Is that code for ‘I’ll never use that number’?”

  “Amy.”

  I laughed as I stood next to him staring out the front window. He probably couldn’t even tell me what was out there. He was trying so hard to avoid this little interrogation about Kate.

  “Tom. Now I bled about my stupid life and all its new drama. It’s your turn.”

  “We have a date for tonight, if you must know.”

  Not what I was expecting. Tom had a date? I didn’t take this information lightly. He hadn’t been out on a date since we’d become friends. I was the one who’d gone with him to all the charity events, commerce mixers, and office things. And I really didn’t count because we were friends.

  “Wow! Tom is going out on a date.”

  “I’m canceling.” He turned and went back toward the kitchen.

  I continued to follow. I could do this all day. It took the focus off my failed relationships.

  “Why would you cancel? Don’t you like her?”