Stay With Me ~ Kristen Proby

by Kristen Proby

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I reply, and then turn to Anastasia, who seems a bit more reserved. She’s beautiful, like her sister, but more simple. No makeup, casual clothes. “Hi, Anastasia.”

  “Hello,” she says with a short smile. “How long have you known my sister?”

  “A few days,” I reply.

  “So, you’ve made time for a stranger, but not for your family,” Anastasia says, and Amelia immediately shuts down. Watching the shutters slam shut is fascinating.

  “We can talk about this later,” Amelia says. “Wyatt, maybe we should take a rain check on dinner.”

  “Not at all,” I reply. “Why don’t we all have dinner together?”

  “Oh, I don’t think—” Amelia begins, but her mom interrupts.

  “That would be lovely, Wyatt. Thank you. Is that your house?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  And just like that, Sherri is in the lead, guiding us back to my house, with the rest of us in tow.

  “I’m famished,” Sherri says. “What were you planning for dinner?”

  “We were just going to have takeout,” Amelia replies. “Wyatt, do you mind if we sit outside?”

  “Not at all. I have a nice, covered patio this way.”

  Once everyone is settled with a cold drink, we decide on pizza from a place in town I haven’t tried before and then settle in to talk.

  Amelia is wound up tight, and if I’m not mistaken, nervous.

  I don’t sit directly beside her, even though I’m dying to touch her again. But I don’t want to complicate things further with her and her family.

  So, I hang back, playing the part of her friend.

  “Have you always lived in Seattle, Wyatt?”

  “Most of my life, yes. My family is here. I went away for college and then moved back to work. I’m an architect.”

  “How nice. Being near family is so important,” Sherri replies. “Anastasia has just moved home, and Archer, my son, lives nearby. Now, if I could just talk Amelia into moving back permanently, I’d be a happy woman.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Amelia says with a sigh.

  “You’ve recently moved back?” I ask Anastasia, taking the focus off of Amelia.

  “Yes, I’ve opened a wedding cake business over in Bellevue,” she says with a nod. “I just signed my first contract today, in fact, so I’m officially in business.”

  “That’s so great,” Amelia says, a big smile on her face. “Way to go.”

  “Thanks. I tried to call you, but your phone was off, so Mom and I decided to just come over and surprise you.”

  “Especially since you didn’t seem to be in a hurry to see us,” Sherri adds, making Amelia scowl again. “I spoke to Jules the other day when I saw her at Gail and Steven’s house, and she told me you were here.”

  “Mom, I’m sorry. It’s been a busy week. I was planning to call you tomorrow.”

  “I was anxious to see you,” Sherri says with a smile.

  Man, parents sure can lay on the guilt trip.

  I wonder if they offer a class for that when you’re going through birthing classes because my mom is also the queen of the guilt trip.

  “So, tell me more about the wedding cake business,” I say to Anastasia, earning a scowl from Amelia. What did I do wrong?

  ~Amelia~

  Why am I always attracted to men who flirt with anything in a skirt?

  I blow my nose for the sixteenth time in about five minutes and hang my head in my hands. I feel like my face is going to explode.

  And I’m moody as fuck.

  Perfect time for my phone to ring.

  “Heddo.”

  “Lia?” It’s Jules. “Are you okay?”

  “Caught a cold,” I reply and wipe my already red and swollen nose. “God knows where.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you need juice? Soup? NyQuil?”

  “I’ve already ordered all of that. Should be delivered sood.”

  “Well, you sound miserable, honey. I hope you feel better for girls’ night on Friday.”

  “I will,” I promise her. “What’s up?”

  “Well, your mom called my mom, who called me. And your mom likes Wyatt.”

  “I’m sure.” I blow my nose again and then feel my stomach sink, the same way it did yesterday when we were over at Wyatt’s house. “But I’m not so sure that I like Wyatt right now.”

  “Why?”

  “Vinnie was a fucking flirt, Jules. He would flirt with anyone. But he had a habit of flirting the most with Anastasia.”

  “I remember. The slimeball flirted with me, and I thought Nate was going to take his testicles off. But what does that have to do with Wyatt?”

  “Well, Wyatt insisted that we have dinner with Mom and Stasia, which didn’t thrill me. I mean, he’s not my boyfriend, and he’s new. I wasn’t exactly ready to introduce him to my family. But it happened, so whatever. But when we were all together, he kept flirting with Stasia. Asking her all about her job and paying way more attention to her than I was comfortable with.”

  “Well, she was new to him, so maybe he was just making small talk?”

  “Maybe, but it felt way too similar to Vinnie, and anything that reminds me of him turns me off.”

  “As it should,” she assures me. “Is it worth having a conversation with Wyatt to tell him that? Or will you just move on?”

  “Right now, all I want is a fucking nap,” I reply. “So, I think when the delivery arrives, I’ll take some NyQuil and sleep the rest of the day away. Then I’ll think about Wyatt and why all men feel the need to be charming.”

  She chuckles in my ear. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Hey, were you calling for anything specific?”

  “Not really. I was going to suggest lunch since I’ll be out your way later today, but we can do it another time. Get some rest, and don’t worry about the man across the street.”

  “Thanks, girl.” I hang up and blow my nose, just as there’s a knock on the door. It’s my grocery delivery, thank God.

  But I don’t even have the opportunity to take the cold medicine before my phone pings with a text.

  From Wyatt.

  Please come help me. I think I’m dying.

  I frown, still irritated with him. But I like him well enough to not ignore a cry for help. So, I load my sickness supplies back into their bag and walk across the street.

  “Heddo?” I call out as I walk through the front door. “Wyatt?”

  “In here,” he replies from the living room. I walk in and stop cold, taking in the scene before me. Wyatt’s lying on the couch, one arm flung over his face. There’s a pile of used tissues on the coffee table, and a box of clean ones on his belly.

  “Hi,” I say simply. He moves his arm and peeks at me.

  “Are you here to save me?”

  “From what?”

  “Death.”

  I smirk, walk to him, and press the back of my hand against his forehead. His nose is red, but his cheeks are pale. “No fever. You’re not dying.”

  “I feel like I’m dying,” he says and sits up, then immediately reaches for another tissue to blow his nose. I snag one for myself. “Did you catch this?”

  “Have you seen me?” I ask and then raise my eyebrows when he looks up at me. “Clearly, I did. I don’t usually sport the red nose.”

  “You look beautiful,” he murmurs, then sneezes into his tissue. “Can you please make me some soup? Do you have soup?”

  “Actually, I did bring my soup over to share,” I reply and walk into his kitchen. “It’s just out of a can.”

  “Perfect,” he says. “Thanks. Are you okay?”

  “I don’t feel great,” I reply. I’m not in the mood to discuss dinner last night. I’d be happy to never have to discuss it again. “But I’ll be okay.”

  “Well, you’re doing better than me because I’m not entirely convinced of my survival right now.”

  “God save me from the man cold,” I mutter as the soup
heats up on the stove.

  “Is it cold in here?”

  “A bit,” I reply and walk over to fetch a blanket that’s folded on the back of a chair, then drape it over him. “Here, this will help.”

  “Thanks.” He pulls the blanket up under his chin, and I roll my eyes as I walk over to dish up the soup for both of us.

  “Soup’s on,” I announce as I carefully carry a bowl to him, setting it on the coffee table.

  “No crackers?”

  “I don’t use crackers, sorry,” I reply. If you want crackers, buy your own fucking crackers.

  But I don’t say it because he doesn’t feel well, and neither do I, so I’m probably just overly touchy today. Dramatic. On edge.

  Just as I sit to eat my own soup, he scowls.

  “This is too hot.”

  And, we’re done here.

  “You know what, fuck this.” I set my bowl down and stand, reaching for my grocery bag. I open the NyQuil and take half the pills out, setting them on his counter. “I’m sick too, Wyatt. And I can not deal with your man cold today. So here’s some medicine, you have your soup, and you can just deal with the rest of it on your own. I don’t particularly want to hang out with you after yesterday anyway.”

  “What do you mean—?”

  “No. I’m out of here. I need a nap, my own bed, and I need to be alone. Goodbye.”

  I march out of his house and over to mine. My phone is ringing in my hand, with Wyatt’s name flashing, so I decline the call and put my phone in airplane mode.

  I want everyone to leave me the hell alone.

  Once I’ve taken my medicine and crawled into bed, sleep comes swift and hard.

  I slept for six hours. It was marvelous. My head is still packed, and I think I might resemble Medusa with the flying hair and crazy face, but at least I got some sleep.

  I turn my phone on and sigh at the nine texts and two calls from Wyatt, not to mention the six hundred notifications on social media.

  Six. Hundred.

  I need an assistant.

  I don’t check any of it. Instead, I set my phone aside and pad into the kitchen for some orange juice. I left my soup at Wyatt’s, so I don’t have any of that, but I do have crescent rolls in the fridge. I’ll just bake those up and eat them all.

  Carbs don’t count when you’re sick.

  I do thumb through some of the social media messages while the rolls bake. Some are from trolls, and those get deleted immediately. I answer a few of the easy questions and then set my phone aside again when the rolls are done.

  I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Just as I set them all on a plate with a side of marinara, my doorbell rings.

  If it’s Wyatt, he can just turn around and go home.

  I open the door, only wide enough for my eye to peep through, and scowl.

  “Hello, Wyatt.”

  “I’m here to apologize for being a prick,” he says and holds up some beautiful flowers. “Please, let me in.”

  I open the door and walk to the kitchen. I hear him walking behind me.

  “I brought you soup, from Lily’s.”

  “Lily’s, the deli?” I ask, my interest piqued.

  “Yes, ma’am. I also brought ice cream.”

  Okay, maybe he can hang out with me for a while. “What kind?”

  “Cookies and cream.”

  I turn to look at him. His nose is still red, and his eyes are tired. But they’re also full of hope and apology, and that’s what gets me.

  “The flowers are pretty.”

  “Also for you,” he says with a half-smile. What is it with men and their half-smiles that get a girl every time? “I truly am sorry. I was a complete baby, and that’s not okay. Ever, but especially when you’re also sick.”

  “It’s not okay, ever, Wyatt. It’s not sexy, and it’s not fun. I was married to that for far too long, and I hated it.” I bite my lip. “But I also overreacted, probably because I’m also not feeling well, and I’m sorry for being short with you.”

  “I understand,” he says with a nod. “I can promise to be an adult when I’m sick in the future.”

  I take the flowers and put them in water, quiet while I work. “I don’t know if this should continue,” I finally say and turn to face him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Seeing each other.” I bite my lip as he frowns. “Not just because of today. I mean, the man cold is annoying, but if it was a deal-breaker, relationships wouldn’t last through flu season.”

  “So why then?”

  “You’re nice. The sex is fun. I like being around you when you’re healthy.”

  “Yes, I can see why we should stay far away from each other.”

  I laugh and push my hands through my hair, reminded that I need a shower. “Okay, I’m going to be real with you because I don’t feel great, and I don’t have the brain space to dick around.”

  “Excellent. Always be real with me, Amelia.”

  I seriously love the way he says my name.

  “I didn’t like the way you were talking to my sister yesterday.”

  He frowns. “How was I talking to her?”

  I sigh, realizing that this sounds absolutely ridiculous. Crazy, even. “Okay, backstory. My ex flirted with everyone. My family included. Especially my family, probably because he knew it drove me nuts.”

  “I wasn’t flirting with your sister,” he says, frowning.

  “You took a lot of interest in her,” I reply. “And please understand, I don’t think you were hitting on my sister not even thirty minutes after you’d been intimate with me. I don’t think you’re a monster.”

  “Well, that’s encouraging.” His eyes are narrowed now, and he looks genuinely pissed off. “I was engaging your sister in small talk to take your family’s focus off of you, Amelia. They were both hell-bent on making you feel like shit for not calling them the minute you got to town, and I could see how uncomfortable you were.”

  “Oh.”

  I hadn’t considered that.

  And I feel ashamed. Deflated. And honestly pissed because, again, I let my past relationship influence my reactions to a man who has been nothing but wonderful to me.

  “I don’t know your family dynamic, and it’s honestly none of my business, but it frustrated me, and I was trying to help, not piss you off.”

  “I wasn’t pissed.” It’s a total lie.

  “Yes, you were. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be talking about not seeing me again.”

  I shrug. “Okay, I was pissed.”

  He walks to me and folds me in his arms, holding me close. He presses his lips to my forehead.

  This is unexpected. I tell him I can’t see him anymore, and he holds me?

  “I have baggage,” I murmur into his chest. “I guess I didn’t realize how much.”

  “We all have baggage,” he replies and nudges my face up to look at him. “But don’t run from me, Amelia. Talk to me. Let me help, or apologize, or work on it. Don’t run.”

  “This is still new, Wyatt.”

  “And it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. I’m not afraid to admit that.” He kisses my forehead again. “Now I know what one of your triggers is, and I can make sure you aren’t uncomfortable in the future. You just have to tell me, baby.”

  “Are you for real?” I stare up at him, completely surprised by him. “You’re not a robot, are you?” I pinch him.

  “Ouch.” He rubs his arm. “A robot wouldn’t have been a whiny baby over having a cold.”

  “Ah, yes. You’re real. I’m sorry for the way I acted. Truly.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  I stand on my tiptoes to kiss his chin, then turn to the soup he brought. “I’ll share my soup with you, but not my crescent rolls.”

  “Greedy,” he says with a smile, watching me. “Let me stay tonight.”

  “There will be no sex tonight, Wyatt.” I can’t help but laugh. “I’m way too sick.”

  He drags his hand
down my back. “No, but there can be cuddles and Netflix.”

  “Netflix and cuddle sounds better than Netflix and chill,” I say with a happy sigh. “Okay, I’m in.”

  “Oh my God, this is so good,” Samantha Nash says after the first bite of a lemon cupcake. “Seriously, Nic, they just get better and better.”

  “The recipe doesn’t change,” Nic replies with a laugh.

  “I can’t get enough of them,” Sam shrugs.

  We’re at Succulent Sweets, Nic’s bakery, for girls’ night out. Jules and Natalie are arranging fruit, nuts, cheese, and meats on a board. There is a pink cocktail being poured, and gorgeous women surrounding me.

  I hope I remember everyone’s names. I do remember whom each of them is married to, so I silently go around the room, committing faces and names to memory.

  Nic is married to Matt. Sam is Luke’s sister and is married to Leo freaking Nash. As in the lead singer of Nash. As in one of the most famous rock stars in the world.

  I met him at Will’s wedding and almost made an absolute fool of myself.

  Alecia, the curvy blonde laughing with Sam, is married to Dominic, and that’s a whole crazy family story. But I love both of them. Dom is calm and broody, and so smart, and Alecia is his perfect match.

  Of course, Meg is here, drinking her pink cocktail and talking with Meredith, who is married to Sam and Luke’s brother, Mark.

  This is so fucking confusing. I need a roadmap.

  “Where are Stacy and Brynna?” Nat asks.

  “They both have sick kids at home,” Jules says. “Speaking of which, how are you feeling, Lia?”

  “So much better.” I accept the pink cocktail and take a sip, then feel my eyes go wide. “Oh, this is good.”

  “Be careful, you’ll get hammered fast,” Sam says with a wink. Sam is also blond and super petite. She has a runner’s body. “So, tell me why we’re at the bakery instead of one of the fun bars downtown for girls’ night.”

  “Because,” Meredith says, “we’re too old to go clubbing. This way, we can drink and eat and talk without the crowds.”

  “It’s quieter,” Alecia adds.

  “We’re old women,” Sam mutters but reaches for another cupcake. “But I guess if I can have leftover cupcakes and cocktails all night, it’s not so bad.”

  “Not to mention,” I add with a smile, “we don’t have to close down at two. We can party all night if we want to.”