“I know.”
“No.” He chuckles. “You don’t and that’s the problem. I’ve been in my own head thinking everyone else is moving on with their own lives while I’m stuck back here in my misery. I’m angry at life, so fucking angry sometimes I take it out on the people that have tried to be there for me.” He pauses so I take my shot as I wait for him to figure out what he wants to say. I don’t want to interrupt him in case he clamps up again. “I’m going to try and be better, I just need time.” At the look I give him, he says, “Yeah, I know I’ve had six years. But I mean some real time. Time to heal properly now my eyes have been opened to the way things have been. I know I can be happy again if I let myself.”
I smile and grasp him on the shoulder. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear those words, so don’t wimp out on me.”
He pushes me away, his eyes lighting up with laughter. “Fuck you.”
I laugh, knowing that’s his way of showing affection right now.
I can’t remember much from the time we finished playing pool—I won of course—to the time my work alarm screamed in my ear.
Drinking on a work night is not big, nor is it clever. But damn it was fun.
I stare down at the message Nate sent me, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip before I look up. Charlotte’s studio sits next to her house, the large window with dark woodwork letting the light into the reception area.
Going out on a second date feels like a big deal; especially as he’s cooking at his house for us. Coming into the city to see if Charlotte can help with an outfit was a spur of the moment thing, but now I’m here I’m second-guessing myself.
Maybe I should wear some of my normal clothes? Nate doesn’t seem to care what I look like or what I wear. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to feel good and look nice.
My hand reaches out, pushing the door open into the reception area. My small boot heels tap against the light wooden floor as I make my way around the large, black sofa, throw cushions scattered along it.
Coming to a stop at the white, streamlined desk, I tap the small bell sitting on top of it.
Sewing machines whir in the next room over and when I lean to the left to see through the door that sits ajar, I get a whiff of fig leaf and elderberry candle.
Heels tap, sounding closer before the door opens fully and Charlotte’s face appears.
“Amelia?” Her brows draw down into a frown. “Is everything okay? The kids? Tristan?”
My eyes widen. “Yeah, they’re all fine,” I rush out and her face relaxes before she takes another step toward me. “Apart from Tris’s hangover.” I smirk as I think back to this morning.
“Never again,” I hear Tris groan as he pushes through the kitchen door.
Turning around, I offer him a small smile, lifting my hands out of the soapy water, the suds dripping down my arm.
“Sore head?” I ask, knowing from the way he’s wincing from my voice and the sunlight that I’m right.
He shuffles across the floor, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and his t-shirt on inside out. Pulling out one of the kitchen chairs, he drops into it, laying his head on the table.
Wiping my hands dry, I open up the refrigerator and pull out a packet of bacon, placing a few rashers on the grill before whisking up some eggs.
With every small noise I make, Tris moans and groans.
“Self-inflicted,” I singsong.
He grunts in response as I turn the bacon over and scramble the eggs on the stove before plating them up and pouring him a glass of orange juice.
Placing them in front of him before patting his shoulder, I tell him, “Eat up, you’ll feel better after you have.”
I sit opposite him, watching as he lifts his head, his murky-gray eyes connecting with mine.
“My head hurts.”
I chuckle as he picks up his fork, his movements slow. “That’s what happens when you drink enough for ten people.”
Shaking the thoughts from my head, I focus back on Charlotte. “What can I do for you then?”
“I erm, I…” I roll my eyes at my stuttered reply. “I wanted to ask for your help.”
Tilting her head to the side, her bobbed hair sways with the movement. “Okay.”
I wrap my arms around my waist, shuffling on the spot as I look around the room, trying to focus on one thing.
“I have a date and I need help choosing an outfit.”
“You have a date?” When I bring my gaze back to hers, I see a huge smile on her face.
“I do.”
She reaches her hand out, laying it on my forearm. “Can I ask who the lucky guy is?”
I was afraid she’d ask. I just don’t know how to answer. There’s no way I can be honest because Charlotte will for sure tell Tristan or even Edward.
“I…”
Pulling away, she waves her hand in the air. “Don’t mind me, I’m being nosy.” I laugh awkwardly before she spins around, heading back the way she came. “Follow me, I have the perfect outfit. It’ll look amazing on you.”
“You do?” Stepping after her, we walk through a room housing six tables, all with machines on top and people sitting or standing behind them, sewing or cutting material.
None of them look up as we walk through and into a room toward the back. “If you’re busy, I can come back,” I tell her, seeing how focused on their work they all are.
“Don’t be silly.” She points to a pink velvet chair off to the side. “Sit.” I go to it automatically, my gaze roving around this room.
Shelves housing heels and boots line the top and bottom of the walls with rails in between, dresses, jumpsuits, and several other things hanging from them.
Charlotte heads over to the one on the left, picking out a white jumpsuit as she hums a tune and reaches above it for a pair of black heels.
Pulling a curtain aside, she places them inside before indicating to me. “Try them on.”
Standing up slowly, I stare at her in bewilderment. How can she know exactly which outfit to choose for me?
I stay silent, not voicing what is running around in my head before I step inside the fitting room, a smaller chair the same as the pink one sitting in the corner and every wall hung with a full-length mirror.
“I’ll wait out here,” s says, pulling the curtain closed.
Getting rid of my clothes, I pull on the white jumpsuit, doing the side zip up and looking into the mirror.
A deep V plunges into my cleavage, covered with a lighter mesh fabric, the white material clinging to my waist and hips before it tapers down to fit my legs and stops just above my ankles.
My bra shows beneath the plunging V. It’s understated sexy, and even though this is something I would never wear, I feel beautiful in it.
Sitting on the chair, I push my feet into the heels, doing the buckles up at the side. Two wide straps slide over the top of my foot, one with a metal V embellishment. They’re higher than anything I’d normally wear because I favor Converse, or flat sandals, or small-heeled boots. But I can’t deny how they make my legs look longer.
“Well?” Charlotte’s voice comes from behind the curtain, and I take a deep breath before stepping out and showing her what it looks like. “I knew it!” She fist bumps the air, her eyes sparkling and her lips lifted into a grin. “As soon as this was made a week ago, I could see you in it.
“You could?”
“Mmmhmm.” She pulls on my arm, bringing me closer and messing with the fabric at my waist and hips. “It needs taking in a little here.” She pulls at the top of the middle of my back before spinning me around to look in the only other mirror in this large room. “See? Maybe an inch, but it’ll make all the difference.” When she lets it go, I can see what she means.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur, not quite believing how I look in this jumpsuit. I have no doubt in my mind that Nate won’t be able to take his eyes off me. At least, I hope he won’t.
“It is,” Charlotte whispers, meeting my gaz
e in the mirror. “But so are you.”
I swallow audibly. Having a mother figure is something I’ve missed over the last six years.
“Thank you,” I finally manage to whisper, pushing back the tears threatening to fall.
Charlotte rubs her hand up and down my back before stepping away. “I’ll grab some pins.”
“Okay.”
She flits out of the room, leaving me standing in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection and wondering if what stares back at me is the truth. The woman in the mirror looks happy, her chocolate eyes deep and shining bright.
“Let’s get this pinned and taken in for you.”
I jump at the sound of Charlotte’s voice, nodding as she steps forward and pulls the fabric, pinning it before stepping back and saying, “Take it off and we can grab some lunch while I get Vanessa to take it in.”
“Oh, no. You’re okay, I can wait.”
“Nonsense.” She waves her hand again in the way she does to dismiss things.
I head back into the fitting room, pulling the jumpsuit off carefully and putting my own clothes back on before heading back out with it draped over my arm.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask when Charlotte has dropped it off at one of the sewing stations.
“What?”
She opens another door, grabbing her purse and tilting her head for me to follow her.
“For the jumpsuit and heels.”
She leads me back into the reception area, frowning as she pulls open the door to lead us onto the sidewalk.
“I don’t expect you to pay for them,” she scoffs. “Give me some gossip about Tris and the kids and we’ll call it square.”
I chuckle, walking beside her, heading into the busier part of the city. “Well, Tris got drunk last night.”
“He did?”
“Yep.” I nod my head. “But it was a good kind of drunk. I think things are finally looking up for him.”
Charlotte looks at me, her face a mask of pure joy before she says, “It’s about time.”
I couldn’t agree more.
After a great night with Tris, I feel like things are finally getting back on track. He messaged me on Tuesday and asked if I was free next weekend. Turns out he’s throwing a birthday party for Izzie; it’s like he’s turned into a new man all because of Harmony.
It gives me hope Amelia and I can finally come clean to everyone about us. Surely he’d just want us to be happy?
I realized after she brought the kids over we’d never actually arranged a second date, so I messaged her and asked if she was free on Saturday—meaning today. She replied she might be if I was still cooking for her.
I had planned to pick her up but I got caught up in a conference call with a client way past the time I was meant to, so I called a car service to bring her to my place. I only had enough time to jump in the shower and start setting the table before it was time for her to arrive.
That thought has me smiling from ear to ear. Not once today have I been nervous. Everything about Amelia and me feels right and easy—apart from feeling like we’re sneaking around sometimes. That bit of the relationship is equally exciting as it is irritating, but it’ll hopefully change soon.
I walk back into the kitchen, checking everything is already prepped so I don’t have to spend a second more away from her than is necessary. I pull out two beers from the fridge and twist off the caps, walking toward the door as I hear the sound of gravel kick up. It’s normally so quiet you can tell when someone is here.
I open the front door and lean against the frame, waiting for the driver to let her out of the car. When he does, my jaw practically drops to the floor. Fuck me! I’ve never seen her this dressed up before.
The white jumpsuit she’s wearing clings to her every curve, the mesh of the deep plunge showing a tiny bit of cleavage. Just enough to tease and have my dick straining my jeans like a thirteen-year-old boy. Being around Amelia and trying to be a gentleman is giving me a serious case of the blue balls.
She smiles wide and I clear my throat as she walks over to me carefully as to not stumble in her black heels. The driver nods at me and climbs back in his car, driving back down the driveway.
My gaze falls back on Amelia, my heart thumping erratically in my chest as she steps over the threshold. “I hope you didn’t mind the car service, I got caught up on a call and didn’t want to be late for you.”
I place the beers down on the table and close the front door behind her, snaking my arm around her waist.
“Of course not.” She rests her hands on my biceps. “Hey,” she whispers, her nerves flowing through her chocolate-brown eyes.
“Hey.” I place a light kiss on her cheek, breathing in her floral perfume. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful.”
“I…” Heat rises up her cheeks. “Thank you. You look…” Her eyes trail over me as she bites her bottom lip. “Sexy.”
I chuckle, plucking the plaid shirt I’ve had for about six years from my chest. “This old thing?”
“The whole boxy thing suits you,” she jokes, a smirk on her lips.
“I’ll try to remember to buy more ‘boxy things’ in the future.” She laughs along with me and I pick up the discarded beers, handing her one. “Here’s one I prepared earlier.”
Her hand wraps around the bottle before she brings it to her lips and takes a pull, nodding her head in some sort of confirmation. “Very sophisticated.”
I lead the way to the kitchen as I say, “What can I say? I’m a very sophisticated man.”
She chuckles and places herself on one of the stools at the island. “So, Amelia…” I shake my head, her name not feeling right on my tongue now we’re way past the boundary of friendship. “We’re going to have to change your name.”
“My name?” She frowns.
I sit opposite her, placing my beer down in front of me and linking my fingers together as if we’re about to have a very serious conversation. “Yep, you need a nickname. Amelia feels too… formal.”
She tilts her head, her eyes wandering off as she seems to be thinking. “Kind of like how Tris calls me ‘A’?”
“Just like that; except I need my own. I’m not recycling someone else's name for you.” She nods and smiles as I think hard. “Hmm. I think I’ll call you different names tonight to see which one feels right. You okay with that?”
“I mean…” She widens her eyes. “It kind of feels like you have a new puppy and you want to see what name I’ll answer to.”
A booming laugh escapes me. “No, I just want to see which name feels right to call you.”
“Hmmm.” She taps her finger against her bottom lip, bringing attention to the fullness. “I don’t mind.” She quirks her lip. “I think I should think of a nickname for you too… but that’s for another time.”
“Sure, Mel.” Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head emphatically. “Nope, I didn’t like that one either, reminds me of my mom.” I chuckle and slide off the stool, walking toward the refrigerator. “Are you hungry now?”
“Starved.” She stretches out the word. “I saved myself for you.”
I cough as I pull out the crab cakes for the starter. “You, what?”
“I saved myself for you.” She rolls her eyes. “You know what I meant.”
“Well yeah, but…” I smirk at her. “Never mind.” I take the Saran Wrap off the dish and pour oil into a deep frying pan, heating it up. “Oh… you’re not allergic to shellfish or anything, are you?”
“No… all good on the food front.”
“I should’ve checked beforehand but I didn’t think.” I turn and drop the crab cakes into the oil. “What are you allergic to if it’s not food?”
She dips her gaze down at her beer quickly before she looks back at me. “Chamomile tea and erm…” Her throat bobs as she swallows. “Latex.”
I almost drop the packet of rocket lettuce I’m holding at her admission. “I, erm… I bet that was an awkward find.”
Annnnd I want to shoot myself for saying that.
“You have no idea.” Her eyes round into perfect circles as she points down. “Let’s just say it felt like I was on fire, and the swe—”
“Whoa, too much sharing! I want to learn as much as I can about you, Melly… nope not that one either… but let’s keep sexual encounters until a later date.” I laugh to show her I’m mostly joking, but the thought of someone else having their hands on her makes my blood boil.
“Sure.” She brings the bottle to her lips, pausing when it’s a few centimeters away. “You know now anyway… there’s special—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head as she sips her beer, her gaze moving to the pan. “What are we having?”
I turn around and flip the crab cakes in the pan, luckily they aren’t burnt. “Homemade crab cakes. The crab was caught fresh this morning.”
“Mmmm.” She lays her arms on the counter, leaning forward as she takes a deep lungful of air. My gaze flicks down to her chest before batting back up. “It smells seriously tasty.”
“I’m hoping they’ll taste just as good as they smell,” I reply as I place them on some kitchen paper to soak up the majority of the oil before putting them on top of the salad and drizzling on some sweet chilli sauce I prepared earlier. “Can you grab us two more beers?”
“Of course.” She spins on her stool, wobbling slightly as she stands. Her hand reaches out on the island to steady herself before I hear her heels clicking against the floor as I make my way over to the table.
I take my beer from her as she sits down, taking a seat beside her. “I hope it’s as good as you’re expecting.”
“I hope so, too,” she replies, a steady smirk lifting her lips as she picks up her knife and fork.
I motion toward her plate, watching her intently. “Dig in.”
Picking up my knife and fork and cutting into one of the crab cakes, I watch her do the same. But I don’t take a mouthful until she does.
“Oh, God,” she moans, closing her eyes as a look of absolute pleasure drifts over her features sending a painful squeeze right to my blue balls. “This is so good.” She dives in for another mouthful, chewing and swallowing in the same way.
Fighting Our Way Page 16