Leaving Amy (Amy #2)

by Julieann Dove

  “Cranberry and vodka, please,” I said to the bartender.

  I felt a hand on the small of my back after I said it. I turned to find Tom.

  “Hold off on the drink, will ya?” he said to the guy who was pulling out the bottle of vodka from the back shelf.

  “Dance with me, Amy.” His eyes were drunk with pleasure.

  I could’ve fallen into them if I stared longer. “Tom—”

  He took my hand and led me to the dance floor. “The Christmas Song” was playing. The saxophone sounded extra jazzy for the number. I melted in Tom’s strong arms as he pulled me close to him. His steady breathing pushed against my ribcage where my heart beat about, banging like a criminal trying to escape. This felt too good for me to ever want to leave it. My body became limper and I rested my cheek against his. Who cares who was watching, as I was sure the Cabrellas might be. They didn’t have a clue what I’d gone through this past year. Wesley’s cheating heart, Mark’s abandonment…Tom’s enduring feelings. Mine for him.

  I was almost seduced by the pleasure of feeling the heat from his face against mine when I saw her. The look in her eyes. The knowing, yet guarded look of figuring it all out. Kate stood at the doorway, people flanked on either side of her. She was locked in a stare with me. My body became rigid and my heartbeat fluttered before it fell back into a normal rhythm.

  “Tom, Kate’s here,” I whispered into his ear, trying not to enjoy the closeness of our bodies any longer.

  “So?”

  I pulled away slightly. The song was coming to an end. So was my dance with him. “So, this isn’t cool that I’m dancing in this way with you. It’s not nice.”

  “Amy, I’m in control with whom I want to dance with. And, I’m holding her right now.”

  I looked him in the eyes, trying to combat the irresistibility of them. “Tom, it’s an honor among woman that if one knows how much the other one wants you, you don’t infringe. Especially if that woman is a widow, trying her best to make the next one be her forever. And I being the girl who will be married and having dinner next week with a client.”

  “Amy,” he said as I pulled away.

  I walked with quick and long strides toward Kate. She looked beautiful. Her black hair was up in a French twist, the emerald gown she wore looked like deep water, and her smile was genuine and sweet. Queen of the prom, valedictorian, and America’s sweetheart rolled up into one.

  “Kate, you look gorgeous.”

  “Thank you, Amy. You look amazing.”

  “Can I steal you away for a second?”

  She looked at the group of friends she walked in with and pointed to me. “I’ll be a minute, guys. I’ll catch up with you. Go and eat something.”

  I didn’t look where Tom had gone on purpose. I needed to stop fantasizing this was a date with my Prince Charming and get to the part where I’d disappear into a pumpkin, or rather a cab, by the stroke of midnight.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” I said, touching her delicate arm.

  “I know. I didn’t expect to be here, myself. But, my wonderful friends had other plans for me.”

  “Well, I’m glad.”

  She played with her necklace. “I did, however, suspect Tom might be here.”

  “And he’s yours for the taking!” I shook a little when I said it. Like one of those tremors after you felt an earthquake seconds ago. What was I doing? The only right thing I should be doing.

  “Amy, I don’t know. He kind of left it as we’re just friends. I don’t want to be pushy.”

  “That’s because he’s a dumb guy. Guys don’t know what they want. And I’d hate to see two very dear people I know in the world be separated by one of them who isn’t sure what I know is certain.” I said this with all the conviction I could drum up. I didn’t believe a word of it; I just hoped she would, and fate would cover the rest.

  “Now, go over there and ask him to dance. He’s shy and won’t come to you. But I know he wants to.” God forgive me if this poor girl gets hurt. But I know Tom won’t do that. He’s a true gentleman. Who, when he wakes up and sees me gone, will have the sense to go and pursue happiness with Kate. She’s a catch by all standards. I know this.

  “Well, okay. That man is the only thing on my mind, Amy.” She had a hurt in her eyes when she confessed it to me. And just to think—I was basking in his arms a few minutes ago. Shame on me. She would be crushed. I had a husband. For better or worse.

  I walked toward the door as Kate was over by the wall, talking to Tom. I pressed out a text message to him that I was catching a cab home. I told him to enjoy himself and not break a girl’s heart.

  Chapter Twenty

  I changed out of my red dress into my pajamas. I was tired from the emotional roller coaster the night had been. The strong winds of Tom blowing me over all night. The fighting of the current to not get pulled into the ocean of all that could be with him. I must’ve dozed off quickly. I heard a loud noise and opened my eyes. Tom had pushed my bedroom door open and stood in the doorway. His tie hung loosely around his neck and his hair was less gelled-looking than before. There was a look of determination in his eyes.

  I scooted up farther toward the headboard, trying to back away from whatever he was about to say or do. I knew I’d pushed my luck with playing matchmaker for the hundredth time with him and Kate. I just never knew he’d wake me up with vengeance.

  “Tom, before you get angry and tell me—”

  I couldn’t get out the rest. He crossed the room in three long paces and was at the side of my bed. He grabbed me up by the arm and pulled me to him. I felt the air press out of me. His stare held me like chains. Then he kissed me with such a fervor that my body went limp. I couldn’t help myself. I was a bundle of hormones. Released finally, I darted here and there, grabbing at his jacket, pulling it off. I couldn’t breathe. He was smothering me with his lips. Then they trailed down to my neck. I heard a moan escape my mouth. Then something else. What was that noise?

  I rose up, gasping for air, looking around through foggy eyes at where I was. My room was dark; only the light from my vibrating cell phone on the wood table could be seen. I pulled it from my nightstand. It was a message from Wesley, telling me good-night. I fell back on my bed and hugged my pillow. Thank goodness it was only a dream. Or was I really relieved? All I knew was that I needed to get out of here and quick. Get some distance and perspective on what was real in my life. And me and Tom was not going to happen.

  I looked at the time on my phone. It was 11:30. I wasn’t sure whether Tom was home or not. The thought of him after having that dream sensation sent chills down my spine. There was no turning back now. I’d had a true-to-life fantasy of that man. A very good one, at that! I couldn’t look at him in the same way. Ever. Okay, a few weeks and maybe he wouldn’t be able to detect my weirdness. Oh my gosh! I was actually breathing heavy. I turned on my light and got out my bag I’d stowed underneath the bed. I threw the things from my drawer inside it. I could not fool myself into thinking any longer that I could play roommates with this guy. Time healed everything, right? I’d just put some space and distance between us, readjust my thinking, and I’d be able to crack jokes without wondering what flavor his lips tasted like. At least I’d try. Moving out was step one. Wesley was away, so I’d have some time to adjust to being “home” again. Yes, all I needed was focus.

  The next morning, I crept down the stairs with two bags across my back and one in my hand. I heard Tom out in the kitchen. I knew this wouldn’t be easy. Especially after I threw Kate on him like a glass of cold water. I put down the bags and semi-crept in.

  “Hey,” I said in a low voice.

  He turned around from where he stood at the sink. After he turned off the water and lowered his dish, he walked over and picked up his coffee. “Hey.”

  “You’re up early.” Making small talk while holding a bomb took some serious talent.

  “Yep.”

  Hmm…not in the mood to talk, huh?
<
br />   I rubbed the counter back and forth with my finger. “I’m going to go ahead and push off now.”

  He shoved his hand into his pants pocket and tilted his head. “Push off?”

  I backed up a step. “Yeah. I think it’s time, you know? Plus, Wesley is out of town, so it’ll give me a chance to clean up the place a little before he gets back.”

  “You’re moving out?”

  He said it as if it was a surprise. Surely he knew this day was coming. And now that there was a new houseguest of weirdness living with us, there was no time like the present to leave.

  “Tom, I’m just leaving a little earlier than we talked about. I have so much to do, and…” And that was all I had. I had so much to do. La-de-da. How lame did that sound?

  “What about staying until the New Year?” His eyes had squinted.

  “I think in light of a few things, that wouldn’t be advisable.”

  “Amy, that’s preposterous. I don’t want you to leave.”

  I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and pretend no one else matters. Pretend Jeff is well and running Daddy’s business the way it should be run, Wesley is fine and doing great, and we can explore whatever is happening between us. That in the end it doesn’t destroy what we have. Oh, and also that Kate has miraculously found someone else to delight her and make all her woes go away.

  “Tom, it isn’t as though I’m moving to Mars. I’ll be across town and only a phone call away.”

  He bit his lip and closed his eyes.

  “By the way, did you find the keys to the moving van?”

  I figured it would be somewhat of a necessity to get the sofa out. And my pots and pans.

  “No. I’ll give Marcella a call.”

  “Don’t bother her on a Sunday. I’ll check back in.”

  “Let me walk you out, at least.” He started toward me.

  “I’d rather go on my own. If you don’t mind.”

  I couldn’t take it if he stood by my car and I watched him in my rearview mirror as I pulled away. I needed to do this on my own. With our friendship still intact. Well, tethered and sputtering in the wind, but a friendship nonetheless.

  “Okay.” He backed up and leaned against the counter.

  “Well…” I slowly turned. “I’ll catch you later, then.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. I just speed walked to my bags, threw them on and booked it to the front door. The hardest thing ever.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I had worked the previous day cleaning the house. Wesley had dirty clothes stretched from the kitchen, oddly enough, all the way to the guest bathroom. At lunch, I took a break and on my way to the grocery store I stopped in at the furniture store. I’m not sure what was going through my mind at that moment, but I ordered a living room set and had it scheduled for delivery as soon as possible. Later, going through the lines at the market, I kept asking myself why. When I had our perfectly good furniture in that moving van, why did I buy another set?

  Well, I didn’t allow myself to face the reason. Instead, I pushed any rational thinking about me returning to my house or buying furniture deep into oblivion. There it would stay. It could keep company with all the thoughts I had about Mark and Tom stored there, too. A psychiatrist would have a field day with that graveyard of repression.

  It was late Tuesday night, long after I’d come home from work and cleaned up the mess I’d made while making my dinner. I knew how long the night had stretched for me Monday, so I’d thought making grilled chicken, a recipe I’d found online, would take up a few hours. It was rather great, by the way. I wanted to text a picture of it to Tom. Again, what was I thinking? What I sincerely wanted to do was actually take the ingredients over to his house and prepare it for both of us, there. But I hoped once Wesley returned I’d stop those wants.

  Anyway, it was around ten o’clock when I heard a loud noise on the front porch. I was upstairs and wondered whether or not to call the police. Instead, I tiptoed down three steps and watched in the dark, as the noise banged against the door. Then I heard Wesley call out.

  “Thanks, man. I’ve got this. See you tomorrow.”

  I ran down and opened the door, only to have Wesley fall inside and nearly knock me over.

  “Wesley! What are you doing? What’s wrong with you?”

  I smelled my answer rather quickly as he leaned hard into me. He was very inebriated. Coors beer seeped from his pores and out his mouth.

  “Amy! My, it’s good to see you,” he slurred and sputtered. His left leg limped forward as his overnight duffel bag slid down his arm.

  I picked up his bag and was walking it to the steps when he pulled me back by the arm. “Where you going?”

  I touched the hand he had on me. “Wesley, it looks as though you need a shower and bed. I thought you were returning tomorrow.”

  “I passed, Amy! I passed!”

  He picked me up and began to twirl me around. Which was probably not a good idea in the state he was in. I nearly didn’t catch myself when he lost footing.

  “Wesley, I’m happy for you. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

  “Sounds good to me.” A grin snaked across his face and his eyes turned beady.

  “Yeah, I meant you. Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Oh Amy, you’re no fun. And that’s always been the problem. You’re never any fun.”

  I tried to ignore his true feelings and assist in getting him up the stairs. Which wasn’t easy. I’d have more success wrangling an octopus through the eye of a needle. Wesley was groping me and staggering every other step.

  “Here, just get undressed and worry about showering tomorrow. You might drown if you get in the water.”

  His hands turned snapper-like and he pawed at my nightgown. “Wesley! I said for you to get some sleep. You know I hate it when you get drunk. Who brought you home, anyway?”

  “Marcus. He’s the other guy from the office who went to the study retreat.”

  “I certainly hope he was in better shape than you.”

  “You sound like my mother, Amy. Why can’t you just be happy for me and be a little more fun?” He came at me again, nuzzling his face into my neck. He smelled of cigarette smoke and stale air.

  “Wesley, just lay down a second. I’ll be back.”

  “But I wanna fool around. Don’t you wanna?” He breathed heavily into my neck. I scrunched up my face in disgust. Did this make me un-fun? Not wanting to be groped by my drunken husband? I’d beg to argue with the first sensible girl who thought this was an attractive scenario.

  I finally got him to lay back and unwound his arms from me. It never took long for him to pass out after a good snoot-full. I didn’t dare attempt to put him in the blankets. He’d get inside them if he became cold enough. I turned off the light, closed the door, and went to the guest room. It wasn’t that big of a deal, seeing that I’d slept in there the past two nights. I don’t know what it was that kept me from sleeping in my old bed. I’m sure it wasn’t anything that a good doctor of the mind couldn’t figure out.

  I went over to the Dockside restaurant after work the next day. It was a busy day at work and thankfully I had dressed up that morning. I had called and text messaged Wesley a few times, making sure he’d gotten out of bed and would make the dinner date he’d set up a week ago with Frank and Susan Cabrella. After the fourth attempt to reach him, he texted and said he’d be there.

  My fears that he wouldn’t make it on time were realized when I walked in the waterfront restaurant and saw the couple sitting by the window at the hostess stand. “Hello. It’s so good to see you both.”

  I shook their hands and they both seemed to be in good spirits, despite my three minutes being late. And my husband being a no-show at this point.

  “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

  Frank’s tummy raised and fell as he chuckled out his answer. “Heavens no. Just got here ourselves.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Susan looked around at the wall, marveli
ng at the string of lights the manager had strung for the holidays. White birds with glittery wings sat on tree branches woven through fish netting.

  Our hostess appeared and directed us to our seats. I felt the need to apologize every other word for my missing-in-action husband. I prayed he didn’t have a hangover when he got there. Surely twelve hours was sufficient time to shed the layer of immaturity he’d stumbled in the house with. Or shall I say, “layer of fun.”

  “Well, look there.” Frank stared off somewhere toward the back of the establishment. “Isn’t that Tom?”

  Just the mention of his name made my hopes spring up and down. I’d gone thirty-two hours without talking to him. Oh, there were moments when I’d type out an entire message on my phone, remarking how I’d seen that dip at the store we loved so much, or inquiring whether the caterer sent over the last menu for the party, or—and this was sad—whether he’d remembered to turn off the coffee pot before going to work. I’d caught it on a few times after he’d left.

  “Tom?” I tried not to seem like an eager puppy seeing where the bacon was hidden.

  “Why sure, over there with that group of people.” He pointed, only to have his wife place her hand over his, as if showing him how to lower his weapon.

  “Don’t point, dear. It isn’t polite.”

  “Well, Tom doesn’t care. That rascal beat me at racquetball before graciously buying me a round of drinks with my associates. He’s good stock, that man.”

  Indeed, he was. Not someone who was late to dinner. I checked my watch under the table. Wesley was five minutes late.

  I tried to change the subject. No need in comparing good stock with the obvious late stock. “So are you two out of that hotel yet?”

  I sat up straight, trying to seem unaffected by Tom sitting twenty or so feet away. I reached behind my neck and pulled at the tiny hairs, trying to focus my attention.