by A. D. Ryan
Dad and Owen will still have a lot of work to do to get even close to where their relationship was before all of this happened, but I’m more confident now that this is an attainable goal.
I slip my keys into the locks and disengage them before letting myself into Owen’s condo. He’s there almost immediately to greet me, coming from the living room where I assume he’s been watching television.
“You’re back,” he says quietly, pulling me into his arms and lifting me off the ground. He presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck before releasing me.
“I am, and I’m so happy to be,” I reply, letting my hands slide down his chest, my fingers curling into his shirt. I’m about to step up onto my toes to give him a proper kiss after being apart for the day when I see a nervousness in his eyes that I can’t explain.
Before I can ask him what’s wrong, though, I hear footsteps coming from the living room behind him before a woman says my name. Slowly, I lean to the left to peer around Owen’s body, and my mouth drops as my eyes widen in surprise.
25. Through the Grapevine
Making Amelia go see her dad is what’s best. I hate that I’m not going with her, and a part of me does believe that showing a united front might make Alan see our relationship for what it is. However, I think she might stand a better chance of getting him to listen if she’s alone. My presence will only upset him further, and I really want to avoid repeating the events of the other night.
I walk Amelia down to the parking garage and kiss her before she climbs behind the wheel of my car. The roads aren’t nearly as bad as they were the other day, but I still tell her to drive safe. This is really just something that everyone says; I know Amelia will drive safe. She’s always been a cautious driver.
We never discuss how long she’ll stay away, because we honestly don’t know how long her talk might take. Of course, I want her back in my arms tonight, but I can be patient. If she needs more time with Alan, then I tell her to take it. She’ll call me if she decides to stay the night, so I don’t worry, but aside from that, I urge her to not stress about updating me and I’ll see her when she comes back to the condo instead.
I go about my day as I would any other—only perhaps a little more withdrawn. My thoughts often drift to Amelia, and I wonder how she’s making out. In an attempt to keep my mind off things, I call Stephen to see if he’s heard from Gretchen or her attorney.
“Nothing new, I’m afraid,” he tells me. “She’s holding out for some kind of payout.”
“Is there anything we can do to speed this up? I just want to put this mess behind me,” I groan, sitting on my couch and laying my head against the back of it. I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, and try to keep my anger at Gretchen from escalating. It only sort of works.
“You should know she’s trying to claim you were seeing someone while the two of you were together,” Stephen informs me. “As your brother-in-law, I know that’s not something you would do…but, as your lawyer, you know I need to ask.”
“No.” I pause, wondering if sleeping with Amelia over Thanksgiving could be held against me if it came to light. “Amelia and I… I mean, I hadn’t legally filed for separation when we…shit.”
“But you’d left and told her you were going to? And your marriage was already circling the drain, was it not?”
“You know it was. Stephen, did I fuck this up? Amelia and I…we didn’t think this would go beyond Thanksgiving.”
Stephen sighs, and I hear the clicking of his computer keyboard in the background. “We’ll work it out. Does she know you and Amelia are together?”
“No,” I respond. “She showed up and suspected—but that was before we even were. And I filed for separation almost the minute I got back in the city.”
“Right. Well, we’ll figure it out.” Stephen stops talking, seemingly distracted, before coming back on. “Hey, your sister’s here to go to lunch. I’ll talk to you later?”
“Sure.” Before he hangs up, I say, “Have you told her?”
“Not my place. She knows I know something, and she knows it has to do with you and who you’re seeing, but she’s not pressing me.”
“Okay. Well, if she does, don’t lie to her. Tell her the truth. I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to her in the next couple of days. Once things settle down with Amelia and her dad.”
“I take it he didn’t handle the news so well?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I tell him, my jaw still bruised and throbbing at the memory of Alan’s right hook. “Have a good lunch. Tell Jules I say hi.”
“Will do. I’ll call you if something else comes up.”
“Perfect.”
After hanging up with Stephen, I decide to clean the condo and do a bit of laundry. This only keeps me busy for a few hours, and then I’m instantly bored again. It’s now three in the afternoon, and I’m back to wondering how Amelia’s conversation with Alan is going. She should have arrived shortly after noon, which means she’s been there for about three hours. This has to be a good sign, right? That’s a pretty lengthy conversation between two people who are on the outs.
Yeah, I’m going with this being a good thing.
I decide to prepare myself a snack, and while doing so, decide to make dinner for Amelia and myself. I still don’t know if she’ll be home tonight, but I could at least have a meal ready for her in case she is.
I won’t have time to properly thaw anything in my freezer, and upon looking in it, I realize I don’t have much in there, anyway. I take a cab to the market, welcoming the menial task of grocery shopping because it keeps my mind occupied. Most of the time.
An hour later, I return home and begin organizing the food after putting a roast in the oven. I pour myself a glass of wine while the roast cooks and head into the living room to watch some television. I flip through the channels despondently, unable to find anything that holds my interest for more than a few minutes, when my telephone rings.
Someone’s at the front door.
Amelia has a key, so it can’t be her.
Gretchen? Julia? Alan should be with Amelia, so I doubt it’s him…
“Hello?” I say, bringing my phone to my ear.
“Owen, it’s me,” a familiar voice says. “It’s Samantha. Can I come up?”
Samm? How random, considering she lives in Texas with her second husband.
“Owen?”
“Sorry, uh, yeah,” I stammer, hitting the pound button to allow her access.
What the hell is she doing here? Are she and Will having problems? Wait…if that’s the case, why would she come to me and not Amelia?
Because Amelia’s not home right now, and Samm probably just flew into the city for the night, I tell myself, feeling pretty stupid.
Having been friends almost as long as Alan and I have been, Samm and I have always been close. Even when she and Alan split when Amelia was younger, we stayed in touch. Will is a good guy, too, so I’m shocked that they might be having issues.
There’s a knock at my door, pulling me from my musings, and I go answer it. Samm hasn’t changed much, her light brown hair cropped to her shoulders and framing her face, making her blue-gray eyes stand out. I’d forgotten just how much Amelia resembled her. She’s wearing a heavier jacket than what she’d be wearing in Austin, which makes sense given the climate difference, and she’s got a small carry-on sized bag in her hand.
“Hey,” I welcome her, opening the door further and pulling her in for a hug. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“Is it?” she asks, her voice kind, but the question confusing. “Surprising, I mean?”
I take a step back and silently offer to take her bag and jacket from her, all the while eyeing her with confusion. She accepts before carrying on. “Alan called me the other night.”
A lead weight forms in the pit of my stomach, but this doesn’t stop my nausea from crashing around it. “He did.” This isn’t a question. Even though I have yet to confirm this with him—or Ame
lia, considering she’s probably going to learn about this at some point during her talk with her father—I don’t doubt it. I’d have included her mother in on this if I’d been blindsided like him, too. “He didn’t say anything.”
“What the hell is going on?” she demands.
I lead her through my apartment and into the living room where I offer her a seat. “It’s a long story. Would you like a glass of wine? Coffee, perhaps? Maybe tea?”
Samm ponders her options for a second before requesting wine. I go to the kitchen and pour her a glass, returning to find her with her legs pulled up comfortably beside her as she rests against the arm of my couch.
I sit on the other end of the couch, and she shifts slightly so she can look at me while we talk. “So?”
“What did he tell you?”
Samm sighs, looking down into her glass. “I don’t even know if I understood him. He sounded loaded. I’ve known him to drink and to even get a little carried away, but he sounded…”
“Destroyed?” I finish for her, my guilt over everything that’s happened overwhelming me.
“For one,” she replies. “He kept saying something about Amy dating an older man. Your name came up a few times, too.” Samm sighs, shaking her head. I can see that she’s come to the conclusion about Amelia and me dating, but she’s still confused and maybe in a state of denial. “I hate to even suggest it for fear of offending you…” She bites down on her lower lip, something Amelia picked up from her. “Are the two of you…you know…together?”
My silence is all the confirmation she needs. “Seriously? Didn’t you just get separated?”
“Almost two months ago, yes,” I reply, my voice hoarse. “Look, Samm, we didn’t intend—”
“To fall into bed with each other?” she asks, a disbelieving smirk on her face. “That doesn’t just accidentally happen, Owen.”
I have to bite back a smirk of my own and a quip about how that’s actually exactly how all of this began—our falling into bed while intoxicated being the event that sparked our relationship. Instead, I shake my head. “I get that, but that’s not what I was going to say. Neither of us saw this turning into something worth having to explain to anyone.”
“So you planned to just sleep together?”
“Don’t cheapen it,” I say defensively. “It was a mutual decision between two consenting adults.”
Samm sits across from me, staring at me in silence for a minute, and I can actually see that she doesn’t seem nearly as upset as Alan. Actually, she doesn’t seem upset at all. Just confused and curious.
“Owen,” she begins, “I didn’t come out here to give you a hard time. Lord knows I have no room to judge a relationship with an age gap, given my husband is seven years younger than me. Alan’s phone call was confusing, and quite honestly, it scared me. I’ve never known him to be that angry or hurt by anything—not even when we divorced—and I worried. I care about him, and I love Amy…and you. I needed to know if I was understanding him correctly, and if I was, I wanted to be there for him.”
“So, you’re not mad?”
“Mad? No. A little bewildered, maybe, but not mad.”
“Have you talked to him since?” I ask. “What about Amelia?” It’s probably a stupid question, because surely she’s tried to call Amelia.
“I called Amy’s phone earlier this morning, but she didn’t answer. I also stopped by her place first, but she wasn’t home. I figured, if I was right, I’d find the two of you together.”
After taking a sip of wine, I tell her, “She’s with Alan. I loaned her my car and told her to go talk to him.”
“Was that a good idea with him being as upset as he is?”
“He won’t hurt her,” I assure her.
“Not intentionally,” Samm says softly. “But you know as well as I do that Alan has two methods of coping: overreacting—which I’m guessing you’ve experienced first-hand based on that bruise—and withdrawing. His silence could hurt her worse than anything he might say.”
“Well, she’s had enough of his silence over the past few days. She needed to try and break through,” I explain, setting my glass on the coffee table.
Accepting this, Samm nods. “Is it serious?”
“I’d say the situation is pretty serious, yes.”
Samm laughs lightly. “No, doofus. You and Amy. Is it serious?”
It’s definitely weird talking to Amelia’s mother about our relationship. Though, I suppose as long as she’s not asking for details or punching me in the face, I should be okay.
“Yeah, it is. Like I said, we didn’t expect it, but it happened.”
“As long as she’s happy, then I’m happy.” A pause falls between us again before the mood in the room turns deadly. “But, so help me, Owen, if you hurt her, I will end you.”
Swallowing thickly, I nod, my eyes widening as I take in the serious tenor of her tone. “Noted.”
“Does Gretchen know?” Now there seems to be a lilt of humor in her tone, momentarily giving me emotional whiplash; Samm’s always hated Gretchen. I really should have picked up on this before marrying her. I probably could have saved myself a lot of heartache and money.
Of course, on the flip side, had I never married Gretchen, I could have met someone who made me happy and then I’d still be married and not with Amelia. Somewhat of a Catch-22, I suppose.
“Not really,” I reply. “She knows I’m with someone, even implied it was Amelia before we’d decided anything. But she doesn’t know who.”
Samm seems almost disappointed. “Pity.” Yup. That’s disappointment. “Can you imagine the look on her face when she finds out?”
I shake my head at Samm’s positive outlook. Her view compared to Alan’s is refreshing, yet somewhat off-putting; but it’s also very Samm. She’s always been a pretty free spirit, never seeing a person’s age as a reason why they can’t be with someone. Which I suppose makes sense given her husband, Will, is almost a decade younger than her.
“It should be interesting,” I agree before we fall into a comfortable conversation. Wanting to steer the topic away from Amelia and me—mainly because I don’t feel right having this discussion without her here—I ask about her vacation with Will, and she tells me that it was wonderful, though she hated not being able to attend Alan’s party. It wasn’t often she and Will took him up on the invite, but every once in a while, they were able to make it. I always admired that she and Alan had remained close after their divorce. I know this isn’t something Gretchen and I will be able to pull off, and it only makes me more thankful that we’d never had any children. It makes for an exceptionally clean break.
So long as she signs the damn papers without much more trouble.
We catch up over the next hour and a half, when suddenly we’re interrupted by the sound of a key slipping into the lock. There’s only one other person with a set of keys to my place. At first, I’m elated that she’s decided to come home tonight, but then I wonder if that’s a good sign or a bad one. Does this mean that her conversation with her dad didn’t go well?
I excuse myself from the living room and round the corner to the entryway just as Amelia slips through the door. She smiles upon seeing me, and there’s something in her eyes that tells me things must have gone well.
Relieved, I pull her into my arms and lift her up until I’m kissing the side of her neck. “You’re back.”
Slowly, I lower her back to the floor, remembering that her mother is just in the other room. I’m just about to fill her in as her hands slide down my chest and her fingers curl into my shirt, but she speaks before I get the chance. “I am, and I’m so happy to be,” she replies, moving up onto her toes to kiss me.
Then she hesitates, looking deep into my eyes, searching. She must see how nervous I suddenly am about our unexpected company.
Then, just as I’m about to try to tell her again, Samm enters the equation. “Amy?”
I can tell the instant her voice registers with Amelia, bec
ause her eyes widen and she slowly leans to the left, keeping her hands on my chest as she peers around me. “Mom?”
Her confusion is obvious as she looks back and forth between us, trying to assess the situation, but soon enough it disappears, and all I see is fear and anxiety.
“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asks, looking back to me for answers, but before I can say anything, Samm walks around me and pulls Amelia into her arms.
“Hi, baby. It’s so good to see you,” Samm croons.
Amelia’s arms wind around her mother as they embrace. I can tell that Amelia’s still stunned, her wide eyes looking up at me for some kind of explanation.
Before I can say something, though, Samm releases Amelia, holding her at arm’s length by her upper arms. “You’re not happy to see me?”
Instantly, Amelia’s worry disappears, and it’s replaced by guilt and remorse. “Oh, no. Just surprised. I’m sorry.” Nervous, Amelia eyes me and then her mother again. “And not to make it sound like I’m contradicting that, but…what are you doing here?”
Before Samm can answer, I rest my right hand on the small of Amelia’s back. She jumps slightly, almost recoiling. When her eyes meet mine, I see fear.
She still isn’t aware that her mother knows. Which only makes sense given she just walked through the door.
Offering her a warm smile, I rest my hand on her back again. This time she doesn’t pull away, but she does glance quickly to her mother to make sure everything’s okay. “Why don’t you and your mother go to the living room and talk?” I suggest. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine.”
“O-okay,” she stammers, still clearly confused.
From the kitchen, I hear them settle on the couch. One glimpse into the living room, and I see that Samm has picked the armchair while Amelia is sitting in the centre of the couch. I’ve just finished pouring Amelia’s wine when the timer on the stove goes off, signaling our dinner is ready.
