I put my arm around her and kiss her forehead to make my allegiance clear. She relaxes against me, and gently changes the subject when the dark-haired twins pelt her with questions about pole dancing and strip club auditions.
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We're lying in bed. Our bodies are warm and connected. She strokes my face, and I pull her closer.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," she whispers. "I should have told you I used to be a stripper."
"Nonsense. It doesn't matter." I kiss her neck and feel her squirm against me.
"It does to me," she says. "I want you to know that I'll never strip again. My grandmother won the lottery, and she's going to pay my tuition."
I feel a surge of goodness and rightness as I taste Amity's mouth, bruising her lips until she moans. I know I've done the right thing. My burden of guilt is suddenly lighter—light enough that I could carry it for the rest of my life. I wonder if I can really have this lightness and Amity, too.
Then Amity rolls on top of me, and I lose my doubts in her curtain of sweet-smelling hair. She covers me with kisses and gazes into my eyes. Her pupils are wide with excitement, and her cheeks are flushed from exertion. Her voice is husky and breathless.
"There's something I should tell you about the last time we were together," she says. "I really should have said something earlier, but I didn't want to scare you away."
I have no idea what she's talking about. At this point, nothing about her could frighten me. "It's OK, Amity. You can tell me. You're safe here."
"I was a virgin. I know twenty—almost twenty-one—is kind of old to have virtually no experience. I didn't want you to think I was some kind of freak, so I didn't say anything. Can you forgive me?"
A virgin? I had no idea, and now I feel a thousand times worse for how I handled things afterwards. "You're the one who should forgive me," I say, wrapping my arms around her, and pulling her head to my chest. "Did I hurt you at all? Physically? Or emotionally?"
"Maybe a little from column B," she says softly.
"Let me make it up to you now."
Then I forget all about the accident, my guilty conscience, and everything else except Amity. My Amity.
/////////////////////////
We're drifting off to sleep when we hear the soft rumble of a text alert. Amity reaches for my antique nightstand where our phones—identical models—are resting against each other. She hands my phone to me. "It's for you," she says in a low, sleepy voice.
I type in my pass code, dread blooming in my chest. It's Ember. Shit. I'm going to have to deal with her tomorrow.
Chapter 23: Amity
I wake up next to Laird, drifting on a gentle wave of pure contentment. I snuggle against him, luxuriating in the warmth of his body. I stretch slightly and notice my back and legs are sore. I blush furiously, remembering how we took each other again and again, ravenous for each other's touch. My lips are bruised from too much kissing, and I feel pleasantly tired, like I've just finished running a race.
The sun is just starting to come up, and soft light is shining through the small crack between the thick, floor-length curtains covering Laird's wall of windows. I feel happy and relaxed, like I'm exactly where I belong. The last time I was here in Laird's bed watching him sleep, I was prickly with fear and uncertainty. But not today. Instead of running out like I did last time, I'm going to stay right where I am and watch the room get bright. When Laird wakes up, I'm going to look into his eyes and smile.
I wonder if Laird sets an alarm or lets himself sleep until noon. If he's a late sleeper, I'll bring some schoolwork next time. I could study while he sleeps, memorizing chemical formulae while basking in the afterglow of another wonderful night. For this morning, I'll have to content myself with the basking. Laird murmurs in his sleep. I wonder if he's about to wake up, but he quiets as fast as he stirred. He shifts position slightly, and I sit up, so his head is resting against my side.
Last night with Laird was so different from the night I spent with Joe or whatever his name was in the city. I feel oddly guilty that I didn't tell Laird about it. Some part of me feels that I shouldn't have given up on him so fast, that I should have been at home studying and patiently waiting instead of out having fun. But I know that's ridiculous. As far as I knew, Laird and I had had a one night encounter. Besides, my night with Joe or whoever really did mean nothing, and I used condoms every time—with Laird and with Joe.
I glance back down at Laird's face. His eyes are half open, and his mouth shapes itself into a sleepy smile. "Amity, you look serious. What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing," I say, stroking his hair. "Nothing at all."
/////////////////////////
Breakfast at the house is an informal buffet. The only thing that strikes me as odd is the pledges wearing frilly pink aprons and cooking breakfast foods to order. At least, I think, they're friendly.
A tall, scrawny pledge with a spray of acne covering his right cheek greets me. "Mistress Amity, how are you?"
"Oh fine," I reply, and then it clicks. He was leading the group that tackled Ethan. "Thank you again," I add.
"No problem." He smiles broadly and points at several covered hot plates. "Bacon, sausage, or ham?"
I get a few slices of each. Laird asked me to make plates for both of us. I pass through the rest of the buffet and return with a tray covered with a little of everything—eggs, meats, and toast for Laird, and pancakes, strawberries, and Belgian waffles for me.
When I return to Laird, he's dismissing the pale-haired pledge master who once asked me to spit on the pledges. He reminds me of a weasel. I'm glad when he slinks off, leaving Laird to me.
Laird grabs a slice of bacon. "That breakfast looks awesome." He beams as if I'd made it myself instead of just assembling it.
"Thanks," I say, popping a strawberry into my mouth. It's surprisingly ripe, and I lick my lips to keep the berry juice from dripping down my chin.
Laird inhales sharply and whispers in my ear. "Do you want to go back upstairs? I have the energy if you do."
I giggle and let my hair fall into my face to hide my reddening cheeks. I'm about to take him up on his offer when his friend Teo appears by our table wearing a white bathrobe.
"Hey, Amity. Do you mind if I borrow Laird for a few minutes? We have a Code Five." Teo is smiling, but there's something tense in his expression. He obviously needs Laird's help with something important.
I smile back at him. "Not at all. You two kids have fun."
"You better leave some bacon for me!" calls Laird as he follows Teo into the lounge area.
I polish off the Belgian waffle while Laird does his frat president routine with Teo. I am happy and stuffed and pleasantly drowsy. I decide this would be a great time to give Maggie a rough outline of what's been happening with Laird. I've kept her in the dark for too long.
I run upstairs to get my phone. On the way, I pass a few brothers who look surprised to see me and murmur something about a Code Five. When I get to Laird's room, I notice the door is ajar. I step inside slowly and cautiously. The bed is made, and someone is sitting on it. That someone is a compact, curvy blonde with a turned-up nose and bright, wild eyes.
"Hi," she says in a clear, bell-like voice. "I'm Ember. You must be Amity."
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Ember is smiling, but her girlish voice drips with poison. "Do you think you're Laird's girlfriend?" she asks.
"N-n-no, er, I don't know. We haven't talked about it." I am stammering badly, and I desperately want to run away from this pretty little doll who reminds me of every mean girl from high school.
"You're not delusional. That's good to know. So, has Laird told you about me?"
"N-n-no." The blood rushes to my head as if I've been turned upside down. I'm ninety-nine percent sure what she's going to say next. I'm already cursing myself for believing in Laird. He was obviously too good to be real.
Ember's smile widens, as if she's drawing str
ength from my disillusionment. "Laird and I have a long history together. I was his first girlfriend and his first love. I was there for him when his mother died. We've been through a lot together, and we're trying to work things out, if you know what I mean."
I nod, and my eyes burn with angry tears. "I'm sorry. I d-d-didn't know he had a girlfriend. I'll leave him alone." I grab my phone and my small overnight bag, and prepare to leave. My toothbrush is still in the bathroom, but I don't care. I'll buy another one.
"Not so fast," says Ember, who seems almost disappointed that she's won so quickly. "There's something else you should know about Laird. Something that I would want to know, if I were you."
I hang in the doorway torn between my gut, which is screaming at me to run away, and my brain, which is dying of curiosity. After a brief struggle, my brain wins. I step back inside.
"Alright. T-t-tell me."
Ember looks pleased. "Laird was in a serious car accident almost three years ago. He was OK, but the other driver died. She was a pediatric nurse married to a drunk. Can you guess her name?"
My heart is pounding so fast and so loud I can hear it. Laird was the other driver in Mom's accident? It seems so surreal. My memories of those weeks following the accident flash before my eyes—Mom's funeral, finding Dad's body, Dad's funeral, and learning about Mom's affair. I barely even thought of the other driver except as the dark hand of some malignant God. His name must have been on one of the myriad police reports and insurance forms I signed, but I can't remember through the fog of grief.
I struggle to breathe the air in this new, awful reality, but Ember doesn't seem to notice. "Laird has been consumed by guilt since the accident, even though your mother was on pills. He's been trying to do something for you for years. He told me the other day that he found a way to give you money from his trust fund. I think sent it to your grandmother with a lot of paperwork that made it look like a lottery check."
"Trust fund?" I gasp, shaking. "Laird never mentioned a trust fund."
Ember rolls her eyes at my ignorance. "He's the only son of Josiah fucking Conroy. Of course, he has a trust fund. Although I guess you wouldn't know that, coming from Triple Marsh."
I ignore the insults, and try to focus on the facts. Laird was the other driver in Mom's accident. He's been racked by guilt since. He gave part of his trust find to Gran. It occurs to me that he must have lied to me on the day we met at the cemetery by my parents' graves. There's no way Josiah Conroy's wife is buried at Forever Acres. He must have been visiting my mom's grave, seeking some kind of absolution.
In a sick way, what Ember's told me explains a lot. Until recently, he's hovered around the periphery of my life like some kind of guilt-ridden guardian angel. I can't believe he thought that giving Gran money would somehow make everything OK. A wave of nausea threatens to bring up my breakfast onto Laird's forest green braided rug.
I bring my hand to my mouth, still not trusting my stomach. My face and hands are moist with the cold sweat of shock. Ember looks cool and comfortable, like a chilled peach. I want to curse her into oblivion, but I know my stammer won't let me.
I turn to leave, but Ember isn't done. "That's why he hangs out with you. It's guilt. He wants to know that poor little orphan Amity is doing just great without her mom and dad."
That's it. I'm done, even if Ember isn't. I run out of the room and smash right into Laird. When I step back and look into his eyes, I see flashes of affection, guilt, and fear. I will my eyes to stay dry and ask the only question that matters, "Is it true?"
"Yes, but..."
The first syllable is enough for me. I fly down the stairs and out of the frat. I practically run across campus to the vast, deserted biological sciences lab, where I can cry as long as I want without witnesses.
Chapter 24: Laird
"Ember, why did you do that?"
I am too shocked to feel anger. I watch her lounge on my bed, so cool and self possessed. She looks more beautiful than ever. I realize she must have dressed up for this visit, hoping to surprise and beguile me. Her hair is smooth and glossy, and she's wearing a low-cut cream-colored top that brings out the peachy color of her skin. I know her presence here is partly my fault. I shouldn't have ignored all her texts. I should have said something. Anything.
Her face is maddeningly calm. "I thought you were going to leave that girl alone."
"I was," I say, struggling for the right words. "We have a connection. It's hard to explain. Like I told you, she gets me. I couldn't resist her. She couldn't resist me. It just sort of happened."
Ember sighs, and a small crease appears on her otherwise smooth forehead. "Let me see if I understand. She 'just gets you' because she's an orphan. And she's an orphan because we killed her mom, which caused her dad to drink himself to death. That's unbelievably fucked up."
I close my eyes and open them again. I really wish Ember hadn't come here. "I know. Believe me, I know. But that doesn't change what I feel for her and what I think she feels for me. You had no right to interfere."
Ember raises one pale, perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Sounds like you were going to keep sleeping with her without telling her what you'd done. That's wrong."
Finally, my angers stirs, more so because Ember is one hundred percent right. "I was going to tell her. Eventually."
Ember rolls her eyes. "Yeah, sure. When you got tired of boning her?"
Damn her. She's acting like I was planning to use Amity and then throw her away. "No, of course not. I was going to tell when the time was right. For both of us."
Ember's face hardens into a tight mask. "When, exactly, is the right time to tell a girl you killed her mother? You never would have told her. Never. You're father is right. You're just a big pussy."
My hands clench into fists, and my nails dig into my palms. The angry buzzing in my ears becomes a roar. I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood. It helps to clear my head. I am not going to let her turn me into a raging teenager.
I take a deep breath and try to speak calmly and coolly. "The way you told her was cruel. I'm sure you implied you were my girlfriend—which, in case you're confused, hasn't been true for years—and conveniently omitted your own role in the accident."
Ember's mask slips a little, and her eyes moisten with tears. "Yes, maybe I was a little cruel. But I was doing the right thing. That girl needed to know what you did. And you know it couldn't have worked out between you two. You killed her mother. She's not going to let that go. Believe me, I did you a favor."
I sit on the bed next to Ember and take both her hands in mine. Our bond has always been dark and complicated, but now I know without a doubt that it has to end.
"Ember," I say softly. "You'll always be a part of my history, and I'll remember you fondly for the rest of my life. But tomorrow I'm going to call my lawyer and get a restraining order. And if you ever come anywhere near me or Amity again, I'll have your pretty little ass thrown in jail."
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I should be at football practice. Instead, I'm sitting on a bench in front of Amity's dorm. I realize I've never even been to her room, and I curse Ember for probably the hundredth time today. I've got to talk to Amity, but she won't answer her phone, and I haven't seen her on Facebook. I feel terrible that I didn't tell her myself, and even worse that she learned the truth from Ember. I want to throw myself at her feet and beg forgiveness for everything.
I don't know if she's home or not, so I keep my eyes trained on the dorm entrance. If she's out, I'll see her coming in. If she's in, I'll see her coming out. I feel like a stalker—Christ, now I am a stalker—but she's all I can think about. I stare at my phone obsessively. An email comes into my Inbox. The subject line is A gift from Annabel Grant. Annabel Grant is Amity's grandmother. My breath quickens as I read the note. Then I'm gasping for air.
Amity's grandmother has donated two million dollars in my name to the National Cancer Society. I can't believe Amity has already told her who I am and where the m
oney came from. I am shocked that they gave away so much money so fast, just because it came from me. They must have decided I'm tainted. Untouchable. Unforgiveable.
I wonder if the donation can be undone. I've got to convince Amity and her grandmother to keep the money. Even if they hate me, that's no reason for Amity to struggle. I imagine her going back to stripping, her sweet face growing hard under the harsh lights of the club.
I have to make this right, and I can't sit still any longer. I get off the bench and head into Amity's dorm, praying I'll find her there.
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I check the directory in the lobby. Amity's room is on the first floor. As I approach her door, I hear a mellow techno beat coming from inside. Damn it, I think, I don't even know what kind of music she likes. I knock softly and then a little more loudly.
After a moment, I hear footsteps. My heart quickens. The door opens, and icy disappointment floods my chest. The enormous redhead—the one Hoover thinks is so hilarious—looks at me with reproachful eyes.
"I guess you're looking for Amity?"
"Yes," I say, trying to inject that single syllable with all the passionate urgency I'm feeling.
The redhead—I think her name is Darcy—frowns and shakes her head. "She's not here right now. I'll tell her you came by." She moves to close the door.
"Wait!"
The redhead glares at me. "Why should I? I hear you lied to her about some pretty major shit." She sounds angry—almost as angry as I imagine Amity is.
"It's complicated. Really complicated. Can you tell me where she is?" I beg. "Please?"
Darcy folds her meaty arms in front of her chest and scowls at me. "Amity is somewhere in New York City with her best friend from high school, no doubt getting drunk enough to forget about you."
Amends: A Love Story Page 15
