Just a Number

by A. D. Ryan

  We say goodnight to my assistant before stepping into the elevator. I’m still a little anxious about Alan’s visit, but Amelia’s mission to distract and relax me has been a success for the most part. Neither of us know what he’s going to say, but I want to remain cautiously optimistic. We’ve been friends far too long to let this get between us. I’ve only ever wished for his happiness, and I truly hope he’s wanted the same for me all these years—even if his daughter is the one that makes me happy.

  The air outside is heavy with the threat of rain as we step out onto the sidewalk and head to where I parked this morning. With a smile, Amelia loops her arm through mine and falls into step with me as she rests her head on my shoulder.

  Naturally, our day wouldn’t be complete without one more complication, and we don’t make it very far.

  “I fucking knew it.”

  Amelia and I stop walking and slowly turn to find Gretchen standing behind us. Her arms are crossed tightly across her chest, and her eyebrows are pulled together in rage.

  It may not have been how we wanted her to find out—let alone when—but Amelia and I maintain our composure surprisingly well. Amelia stands tall at my side, seemingly unintimidated by Gretchen’s increasing rage.

  My ex takes a step forward, her icy eyes locking on Amelia. “Little tip?” she sneers. “Next time you decide to partake in an illicit office rendezvous, I suggest you don’t leave your fucking jacket draped over the chair for just anyone to see, you little sl—”

  Amelia tenses beside me, but before she can unleash her rage, I step between them. “Enough, Gretchen,” I bark. “What goes on in my life now is absolutely none of your damn business.”

  Ignoring Amelia, Gretchen smirks menacingly. “Isn’t it? I think the courts will be interested to hear what you’ve been up to.”

  “Good luck with that,” I retort. “Nothing happened until after we were separated. And I think you already know that.”

  Her nostrils flare with unbridled anger. “We’ll see about that,” she says through gritted teeth, and then turns and storms off in the opposite direction.

  Next to me, Amelia releases a breath of relief, but I can still see the worry in her eyes. “Are you sure this won’t negatively impact your divorce?” she asks.

  I glance down at her. “Do you regret her finding out?”

  Amelia shakes her head. “Only how she found out. I wanted a little control over that meeting even more than I wanted when we told Dad.”

  Nodding my understanding, I lead her back on the path to my car. “Me too,” I assure her. “But I must admit it’s kind of a relief to be completely open about our relationship now.”

  “That’s very true,” Amelia agrees, and then falls silent for a second, her eyes giving away her awakened worry. “Now we just have to see what Dad has to say.”

  I help Amelia into the car, and then circle around to the driver’s side. With only two hours until Alan is expected to arrive at my apartment, I understand it’s time to get a move on if we’re going to have dinner ready and prepare ourselves mentally for his visit. We’re still unsure what it is he has to say, and I worry that he still hasn’t forgiven me. Repairing his relationship with Amelia will be easy and natural, but he will have issues with ours. There are no blood ties to guarantee we’ll walk away from this entire situation unscathed.

  “Can we stop by my place quickly?” she asks as we pull onto the street. I glance over at her and find her smiling adorably, her cheeks blushing. “I would just like to pick up some clothes so I’m not forced to eat dinner in my jacket.”

  When we arrive at Amelia’s apartment, I wait by the door while she packs a few things. “So, Liz is having her birthday party on Friday night,” Amelia says as she rifles through her dresser and closet.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Uh huh. She told me to invite you…I wasn’t sure if you’d want to hang around with a bunch of twenty-somethings, but I would love it if you’d come and meet my friends.”

  The idea is both appealing and terrifying. I am twice their age; what could I possibly have in common with a bunch of twenty-year-olds? And going to a nightclub just sounds exhausting.

  “What do you think?”

  I think back to my schedule for that day and remember a few appointments I have lined up for that weekend. “Can I keep you posted?” I inquire. “I’m just not certain what my schedule will be.”

  Amelia smiles. “Sounds good,” she exclaims before grabbing a few more things from her dresser.

  The longer she takes, going back and forth between her room and the bathroom, the more I realize that this particular routine could be phased out. Are we ready for that? It’s not like we spend much time apart most days, so maybe this is a good idea. I won’t ask her to live with me; we could start small. With a toothbrush and a change of clothes.

  Amelia emerges with her duffle bag slung over her shoulder. I take it from her, noting the weight of it, and smile. “You know, this is starting to become habit,” I quip.

  She looks up at me, confused. “Oh?”

  I smirk. “Always having to stop by your place or mine before spending the night at the other’s… Seems kind of tedious, don’t you think?”

  “Not if we want fresh breath and clothes that aren’t wrinkled.”

  Her innocence amuses me. “True,” I reply. “Which is why I was going to suggest you maybe leaving a few things at my apartment.” Her eyes widen, and her mouth opens slightly. I can almost feel the panic rolling off her, so I rush to elaborate. “I’m not talking much. Perhaps a toothbrush and a few items of clothing.”

  Her stunned expression turns to joy as she lunges for me, wrapping her arms around my neck and setting us both slightly off balance. The door saves us from toppling over, and we both laugh.

  “So, is that a yes?”

  “Absolutely!” she exclaims, kissing me firmly before sliding back to the floor.

  I breathe a sigh of relief and open the door. “Then, shall we?”

  With an added bounce in her step, Amelia walks out into the hall, and we head to my place, ready to face whatever Alan throws our way.

  Amelia paces the living room nervously, pulling the drapes away from the balcony window and peering out into the night several times. With every minute that passes, she grows increasingly more agitated.

  “Amelia, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” I tease as she looks out the window again. I chuckle as I lift the lid on the steaming vegetables and toss them. “I doubt you’ll see him from this far up no matter how many times you check.”

  She releases the curtain and walks away from the window. Instead of pacing, though, she comes into the kitchen and grabs one of the empty wine glasses and fills it with some of the Pinot Noir we had picked up on our way here. She takes a big sip.

  “What do you think he’s going to say?”

  I shrug. “Hard to say. He’s barely spoken to me since he found out, so I couldn’t even fathom a guess.”

  Amelia sighs. “God, this is so nerve-wracking.”

  I turn toward her and cradle her face in my hands. “Everything will be fine between you two.”

  Her eyebrows pull up in concern. “I know,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “But what about the two of you? God, Owen, you’ve been friends almost your entire lives, and our relationship has put that in jeopardy.”

  I shake my head. “No,” I assure her. “Our relationship didn’t…my dishonesty did.”

  “Our dishonesty,” she amends. “We both lied to him. For weeks.”

  “But you’re his daughter. That bond means more, and I’m okay with that—should he decide to not forgive me.”

  The timer on the oven sounds, so I kiss Amelia’s forehead and go to remove the sheet of beer-battered fish. I’m just setting it on the stovetop when my phone rings. It’s the front door. Amelia looks panicked, but takes several deep breaths as I answer the call.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Alan responds, h
is voice sounding nervous and rough.

  “Come on up.” I buzz Alan up and set my phone on the counter next to Amelia’s after shutting it off; I don’t want any distractions.

  While we wait for Alan to knock on the door, Amelia rushes to finish setting the table, and I put the fish and vegetables on a couple of serving platters. It’s not the most elegant of meals, but it is Alan’s favorite, and I’m hoping to butter him up a little. Once the table is set, there’s a hard knock on the door. Amelia closes her eyes and takes a few more deep breaths before nodding for me to answer the door.

  She waits behind in the kitchen as I make my way for the door. With my hand on the knob, I pause, suddenly needing my own moment to prepare myself in case I’m met with another fist to the face.

  Not wanting to make Alan wait, I pull the door open and offer him a smile. My gesture is not returned, but it’s not met with contempt either. It’s progress.

  “Please, come in,” I say, stepping out of the way and holding the door open so it doesn’t close on him.

  Alan steps in cautiously, looking at me and then ahead where he finds Amelia in the dead-center of the kitchen, wringing her hands.

  “Hey, Dad,” she greets quietly. “How was the drive?”

  Alan’s eyes move back to me, and he sighs. “Long.”

  Awkward silence fills the air. I close the door once he’s inside and wave my arm in the direction of the dining room. “Well, you have impeccable timing. Dinner just came out of the oven.”

  Alan approaches the table and eyes the food before choosing one of the chairs at the end of the table—where he usually sits when he comes over. Amelia grabs the wine from the counter and moves to his side.

  “Do you want a glass? Or…I could get you a beer?”

  “Wine is good,” he says, his tone quiet. “Thank you.”

  Amelia pours him a glass before refilling her own and then mine. She sets the bottle in the center of the table and then moves to her chair. Out of habit, I reach for the back of it to pull it out for her, but one look from Alan and I reconsider. Is it too much? It’s just me pulling a chair out for a woman; it’s not like I plan to throw her down on the table in front of him and make love to her. This was an innocent, chivalrous gesture.

  I decide to go with it and pull out her chair, pushing it in as she sits down.

  “Thank you,” she says softly.

  Alan doesn’t say anything, but he looks like he wants to. Instead, I offer to let him dish up first, and hope that he’ll open up the lines of communication first. It isn’t until the three of us have full plates that Alan speaks

  “I’m not going to even pretend to understand whatever”—he waves his fork between the two of us as we stare at him—“this is. But I’ve had some time to process what I’ve heard, and I’m willing to…I don’t know…entertain the idea.”

  Alan’s eyes hold mine. “I’m still pissed at you—both of you—for lying to me, but I simply can’t ignore just how happy the two of you have been these past couple months.” His gaze drifts to Amelia. “How could I deny you that? It wouldn’t be fair…to either of you.”

  Amelia sets her fork down. “Daddy, it really wasn’t planned.”

  “Amy,” Alan begins, closing his eyes as though to block out something. “I don’t need the details.”

  “And I’m not about to give them to you,” she continues. “All I’m trying to say is that we didn’t mean for this to happen, but it did…and we’re both so happy you’re not going to shut us out.”

  Alan inhales deeply. “I’m still not all the way there,” he explains, “but after talking to you, your mother, and Carla, I understand how irrationally I’ve been acting.”

  “No,” she interjects. “You had every right to feel the way you did, and we both feel awful for keeping something this important from you for so long. We just…we got carried away, and with every day that passed, our fear of what you might think became more prominent.”

  Alan looks at me again. “You love her?”

  I glance toward Amelia as she smiles, and I take her hand in mine. “More than anything,” I reply.

  He seems surprisingly okay with my answer for about a half second before he lifts his fork in my direction. “So help me God, Owen, if you hurt her, I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

  His words, even beneath the threat I plan to take seriously, are all the acceptance one could ask for. He’s acting like Amelia’s father again, addressing me in the same way he would any male suitor. This, in itself, is a huge deal, because he’s acknowledging me as a serious presence in her life.

  Something tells me that everything between us will eventually return to normal.

  30. Do What U Want

  “WHAT?” I shout, trying to be heard over the loud club music.

  Liz leans forward across the table after taking a sip of her cocktail. “I asked if Owen was coming,” she repeats.

  All I can do is shrug, because I honestly have no idea. He told me he would try, but I know how busy he’s been with work, so I’m not holding my breath. He did offer to pick me up afterward if I needed a ride. I would probably take him up on that, because I could only imagine the fun we might have in my drunken state…as long as I don’t overdo it. That’s always a possibility when I’m out with Liz. Matt’s here, too, but he’s not paying attention to anyone but Liz; if she’s not careful, he might just drool all over that expensive new shirt she bought for tonight.

  “Well, did he say he was coming?” she asks.

  “Is who coming?” a deep voice says behind me. Excited that he’s finally arrived, I turn to greet Justin, one of my oldest friends.

  “You made it!” I exclaim, jumping off my stool and throwing my arms around him. It’s been months since we’ve seen each other; apparently going to college in another state makes hanging out with your friends almost impossible. “Where’s Caleb?”

  Justin turns his head and nods toward the bar. “Buying a round for you guys. It’s our way of apologizing for being late.” Taking me by both hands, Justin takes a step back and appraises me. “Damn, you’re looking good, Amy.”

  My cheeks warm, and I’m thankful for the poor nightclub lighting. “Thanks.”

  “I seem to recall never being able to get you into a skirt that short.”

  I glance down at my outfit; I had just bought the short leather skirt the day before, and I chose to pair it with a flowy, low-cut tank top. On my feet, a tall pair of black leather boots.

  “Something tells me you didn’t wear that for Liz.” Caleb shows up just then, kissing Justin. “And I sure as hell know you’re not trying to impress me.” He pauses, his lips quirking up into a knowing smirk. “Who is he?”

  It had been so long since Justin and I spoke that telling him about Owen hadn’t happened. Now that the opportunity to do so is right in front of me, I’m nervous. Why? I don’t know. Everyone else knows—especially the ones who really matter: my parents and Owen’s ex—so why the panic?

  Judgment. Turns out, I am still afraid of my friends judging me, regardless of how happy I obviously am.

  But I have to do it. I love Owen and he loves me, and I decided that outside opinions wouldn’t matter when we entered into this relationship. I owe our relationship this.

  “I’m seeing Owen,” I tell him matter-of-factly.

  Justin looks to Caleb, then to Liz and Matt, his eyebrows pulling together. “Owen? Did we go to sch—” Realization sparks in his eyes, and they widen. “Wait…not…” He takes a step back and reads my expression. “Owen? As in, Mr. Cavanaugh?”

  I bite my lower lip gently and nod.

  He smiles even wider and pulls me back to the table where we sit. “How did that even happen?” he inquires excitedly.

  Relieved that he took the news so well, I relax and tell him the whole story. He hangs on every word and his expression reflects my own happiness. It’s nice to know I didn’t have to be so scared earlier. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, and I really have to wo
rk on it.

  Just as I finish telling the story to Justin and Caleb, my phone vibrates on the table in front of me. The picture of Owen and me in bed lights up my screen, making me smile…the message, however, does not.

  Hey Sweetheart. I’m still stuck at

  the office. Not sure when I’ll be

  able to make it.

  I exhale a sad sigh as I try to think of a response. Am I mad? Meh. Not really. Disappointed? Yeah, a little. I had been hoping that introducing him into my circle of friends—even if he’d met them all at some point or another when I was in high school with them all—would help cement our status as a couple. Now that Dad is on board with this whole thing, I just want our lives to mesh seamlessly, and this had felt like a natural next step.

  Justin taps me on the shoulder. I glance up into his eyes and can instantly tell that he knows what’s going on with me. “I think you should come with me to the bar. We need to order a round of shots for the table.”

  I look behind me to where the waitress is standing two tables away. Justin sees her too, but takes my hand and hooks it into the crook of his elbow. “Come on,” he coaxes, and I comply.

  Justin weaves us through the crowd and we find a spot at the bar. The bartender is down at the end, working his way toward us slowly. Instead of being annoyed, Justin sees this as an opportunity to talk. “He’s not coming, is he?”

  I look down at my phone, still in my hand. “He says he’s stuck at the office and isn’t sure if he’ll make it,” I reply sadly. “It’s not a confirmed no.” Even I don’t believe myself. “I don’t know why I’m so upset. It’s not like I thought he’d feel comfortable around a bunch of twenty-somethings.”

  Almost like he understands, Justin nods his head to one side. “Maybe not, but you want him to be a part of your life, and that includes seeing how he is around your friends…” He pauses, and a devilish smirk crosses his face. “In a way that’s not him chaperoning or babysitting us.”

  I appreciate Justin’s attempt to cheer me up, and I’m so glad it’s working. My phone buzzes in my hand again, and I look down at it.