“If anyone else checks in. It doesn’t look that way and I have no reservations.”
“Where’s your room?”
“I’m downstairs, behind the kitchen.”
Sy glanced around the upstairs. The last thing he wanted was to chance it. What if some crazy fan ended up sharing the upstairs space or even a bathroom? He had become notoriously introverted over the past few years, preferring silence to people most of the time. The idea of having strangers sharing this upstairs with him made Sy feel twitchy.
“How about I make this easy. I’ll rent all the rooms.”
Amy’s eyes were huge. “What? But that’s over six hundred dollars a night!”
He chuckled. “I can cover it. And then some. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll even tip. I’d also like to hear more about the royalty package that comes with a massage.”
“I was kidding about that. Mostly. But I can’t let you do that, Sy.” He could see the hopefulness in her eyes and wondered if the business was struggling. It wasn’t a good sign that he was the only guest at Christmas.
“Try and stop me. I’m going to put my stuff away and I’ll meet you back downstairs to give you my credit card. Trust me, whatever the cost, it’s worth it.”
Her voice was quiet, but her smile lit up the dim hallway. “Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Think of it as me being a diva.”
“Right. Because you’re such a diva.”
“Maybe I’ve grown into one over the past six years. Maybe a lot has changed.”
“Maybe nothing has.” She blinked up at him with her long lashes, reminding Sy of exactly what had changed. Namely, the thoughts running through his head about her right now.
Sy put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “So, how’s Delia?”
Something like disappointment crossed Amy’s face. She waved a hand. “Oh, you know. Same Delia. Went to L.A. and just came back a few months ago. She’s trying to figure out her next plan for world domination.”
“Is she still mad at me?”
Amy seemed to freeze at the question. “Um …” Her eyes held a slightly guilty look, which Sy took to mean that her older sister was, indeed, still angry.
“Look, one of the things I wanted to do while I was in town was to see if I could get her to talk to me. You know, to apologize.”
Though he knew he needed to apologize to Amy too, but now that he was facing her, he found it just as hard to come up with the words. Delia had been angry, which was much easier to deal with somehow than Amy, who had been nearly crushed with disappointment. She seemed fine now and not angry in the least, but as someone who hid his emotions well, Sy knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
As though trying to read his intent, or searching for something deeper, Amy’s eyes skated over his face. It made him slightly nervous. He’d always felt like she really got the man underneath the football player, even back when she was just a kid. What did she see when she looked at him now?
For whatever reason, what she thought about him really mattered. And he really hoped that she couldn’t sense the attraction drawing him to her.
“Ames?”
She shook her head, a smile settling back down on her face. “Delia will be glad to hear from you. I’ll call her right now. We’re having dinner tonight. I’ll bring you. It will be great. Unless you have plans?”
“Nope. I’d love that. You think she’ll forgive me?”
Amy studied him again, then spoke carefully. “I think it would be hard to stay mad at you.”
“If you’re sure …”
“Yep.” She gave him a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll call and let her know. Be ready in an hour and you can work on winning Delia back.”
Sy watched Amy disappear down the stairs, wondering why he felt so disappointed to see her go.
Chapter 4
FOUR
Of course Sy was here for Delia. Amy tried not to stomp down the stairs. But then, wooden staircases were practically made for stomping down. This staircase was old and loud whether you stomped or not. She gave up trying to hold back.
With every step she took away from Sy, her body seemed to scream in rebellion. Already she felt like she had stepped right back into her Sy addiction after over six years of being clean. It only took one hit. Amy groaned as she reached the bottom floor. How in the world was she going to stay here with Sy right upstairs? It would be pure torture and temptation.
Especially since he was clearly interested in Delia. Not her. Her phone was on the dresser downstairs where she had left it. Amy stared at it before picking it up to call her sister, breathing hard.
You can do this, she told herself. It’s nothing new. You’ve been second place to Delia your whole life.
The moment Sy had mentioned her sister’s name, Amy felt her shoulders sink, and a bitter taste filled her mouth. For just a few minutes as she walked him through the house, Amy had let herself dream about what might be.
Things were different now. Amy wasn’t Delia’s sick kid sister anymore. Sy wasn’t a few years too old and out of reach. But that didn’t matter, since he was clearly still hung up on Delia. This was familiar: for years, Amy had watched Sy who was watching Delia, while Delia was mostly watching … herself.
Amy felt a flash of guilt at the thought, no matter how true it might be. She loved her sister. But Delia did have a tendency toward being self-involved. That wasn’t totally fair. As much as Delia had everything easy in high school, she also had to live with Amy taking up a lot of their parents’ attention. It wasn’t uncommon for siblings of kids with cancer to develop behavioral problems. Delia could have been worse than being a little selfish.
Amy sighed, still hesitating with her fingertips on her phone. She thought something sparked between her and Sy just now. It was in the way he smiled and the way his eyes warmed as they swept over her. Maybe she was imagining it, but he seemed to be flirting. She even thought she caught him checking her out.
But no—he was still interested in Delia, her beautiful older sister who drew men like flies to honey.
Suddenly, Amy was transported back to being that sick girl she once was. The one with the older sister who was literally the epitome of the high school dream: cheerleader, popular, gorgeous, and never without a boyfriend. Not to mention Prom Queen. Even though she had to go solo.
In comparison, Amy was the bald, ugly younger sister who got everyone’s sympathetic looks and pity. Or sometimes looks of disgust. Once, on a rare day she felt like going out, she overheard someone in a restaurant whisper, “She looks like a skeleton. She’s a ghost girl!” Giggles has followed, making Amy’s cheeks burn.
It wasn’t an untrue description. Amy did look like she had one foot in the grave. And next to Delia, Amy was a ghost. Invisible. Except for all the cancer stuff. It hadn’t just consumed her body, but her whole identity.
People congratulated Delia on scholarships or awards and told her how beautiful she was becoming. They often ignored Amy, like it was too hard to know what to say. Or they said things like, “we’re praying for you” and “you’re so brave.”
Amy would smile politely, maybe even say thank you, but inside, she bristled at the comments. She wasn’t brave. She was terrified and exhausted all the time. Not to mention jealous of her older sister.
But you deal with the hand you’re dealt—one more cliché from the vault—and Amy’s hand happened to be cancer. There was nothing brave about it. She simply adapted. There was nothing admirable about it.
That sick, bitter ghost girl still took up residence inside her. Sometimes, Amy imagined herself that way. She wouldn’t even realize it until she passed by a mirror, surprised to see her hair and the healthy curves in her body.
Amy would never be rid of ghost girl, not as long as she had to have yearly checkups and then follow-up calls from the doctor, whose message from today she still hadn’t listened to. She really shouldn’t ignore Dr. Harmon’s. At any moment
, Amy knew she could step right back into that life. In fact, she waited for it. Like the news her cancer had returned was an ax being swung, already in the air. She was just waiting for gravity to make it crash down on her.
Like it just had when Sy asked about Delia.
“You’re not going to cry,” she whispered. Sometimes she talked to herself in the old house when she was alone. It was big and talked to her through the creaks and groans, so it felt only natural.
Sometimes she forgot, and guests would give her strange looks or respond to questions Amy had asked herself. But she was all-too-aware of Sy upstairs and kept her voice down. She stood still, closing her eyes and willing her emotions back where they belonged, imagining herself as a sheepdog, driving the wayward feelings right back behind the gate.
When she could breathe again, she dialed Delia. “Amy!”
Her sister’s cheery voice only increased her bitterness and disappointment with guilt. “Hey, D.”
“Are you still coming for dinner tonight?”
“Um, actually …”
Amy suddenly realized that she didn’t want to tell her sister that Sy was staying with her. When she had first seen him on the porch, she knew that Delia wouldn’t want her to stay alone with a man, an issue that they usually resolved by Delia coming over and sharing the king-sized bed with Amy. No way was Amy inviting her sister here while Sy was staying.
“I’m actually bringing someone to dinner,” Amy said.
“Someone like one of the guys I set you up with on the dating service?”
“Not exactly. It’s a surprise. Anyway, what time and what can I bring?”
When she ended the call, Amy put her head down on the dresser on top of her folded arms. Groaning, she whispered to herself, “Who’s going to kill me first—Delia or Sy?”
A few hours later, Amy fidgeted in the passenger seat of Sy’s enormous car. People didn’t need cars this big. Although he looked perfectly suited to be behind the wheel.
“I know you’re like a giant, but this car! It’s built for actual giants. I think my shirt ripped when I got inside.”
“You mean when I hoisted you inside,” Sy said.
Amy giggled a little, her cheeks warming as she remembered the feel of Sy’s hands on her hips. “Shut up.”
He grinned, flicking a glance at her before fixing his eyes back on the road. Amy’s heart quivered at his smile. She had lived for the moments when he smiled for her and that hadn’t changed. Back then, Sy was one of the few people who didn’t ever look at Amy with pity or in a way that made her feel like some kind of circus act. He saw her, even in the years where it felt like no one did. Not really.
Of course, Sy also didn’t look at her the way he looked at Delia: adoring, and a little lovesick. It would have been a little icky back then, given their age difference. Not illegal or anything, just a little too big an age gap. But it hadn’t stopped Amy from wishing.
It was awkward to consider yourself in love with the guy who clearly has it bad for your older sister. When Delia suddenly seemed interested in Sy and said yes to prom, Amy swore she could feel her heart shattering. And even though she was sad to miss the chance to go out with Sy, even with Sy and Delia, Amy had been a little relieved that Delia refused to speak to Sy again.
Amy never had to witness them kissing or actually dating. It might have been the thing that pushed her over the edge. The edge of what, she didn’t know. But there would have been no coming back from it.
He may not have known it, but Sy hanging around was one of the things she most looked forward to in those days. The bright spot in her life when she was feeling like death after chemo. He always made her laugh, always made her feel special.
Sneaking glances at Sy’s strong jaw on the other side of the car, Amy wondered if he saw her differently now. Given the way he asked about Delia not ten minutes after getting to the bed and breakfast, probably not.
Amy fiddled with the paper grocery sack in her lap. She had made Sy pull up in front of H-E-B so she could run inside the grocery store. She had a bagged salad for dinner as well as eggs and bacon for the morning. Sy said he liked protein and, whether Sy still liked Delia or not, Amy was going to give him a fantastic breakfast. Cooking was in her arsenal. She probably couldn’t win him over on food alone. Or win him over at all. It was silly to think of it. But she would make him an amazing breakfast. If he happened to fall for her instead of falling back with Delia ...well, what could she do about it?
But first they had to get through this dinner. One where Sy thought Delia knew he was coming and Delia had no idea. It would be perfectly fine.
Probably.
“What did you pick up?” Sy asked, grabbing at the grocery bag.
Amy pulled it out of reach. “I got a salad for tonight and then a few things for tomorrow morning.”
“What are we having for breakfast? Did I mention breakfast is my favorite meal of the day?”
“It’s a surprise. So, keep your big paws off this bag.”
“Fine. I do love a good surprise.” He grinned and cast another glance her way. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Amy’s heart trembled. “I hope I won’t disappoint you.”
“I have a feeling you won’t.”
The trembling went into overdrive, reaching up to her heart. Amy had to stop flirting with Sy. Because he was flirting right back. Only, to him it probably wasn’t flirting. He was just being nice. Amy would always be the little sister of the girl he really loved. He wasn’t flirting. And she was about to get her heart crushed. Again.
They pulled up to her mother’s house and Sy parked in the driveway. Before Amy could even move, Sy had jogged around the car and opened the door. When he smiled up at her, she felt her knees shake. “Don’t try to get out by yourself, Short Stuff. Let me help you.”
Amy couldn’t help the smile that broke over her face. “You can’t call me that anymore!”
“Why? It’s still true. Don’t deny it.”
Amy rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. Getting out was awkward as Amy tried to balance the grocery bag and her purse. Even with Sy’s steady hands on her hips—or maybe because of them—Amy stumbled, almost knocking them both down in the driveway. Sy steadied her.
“You’re not supposed to tackle when we aren’t wearing proper gear,” Sy teased.
“Tell that to your big, stupid car.” Amy pulled away from him and kicked the closest tire for emphasis.
Sy chuckled and planted a hand on her head. She loved his touch, craved it actually, but the way he had his hand on her head felt so … platonic. Definitely like a little sister. Or even like the way you pet a dog. She ducked out from under his palm, moving more quickly up the front sidewalk.
“Slow down, Short Stuff.”
“We have to retire that nickname. Please.”
“Okay, Ames. You like that one better?”
She did. Too much. It made her feel like they were close, like she was special to him. She really didn’t even mind Short Stuff. Somehow it felt different now than it had back then. But her heart felt way too tender for any nicknames or special treatment. Because Amy wasn’t the one Sy wanted. The sooner she could get her heart and body to understand that, the better.
“It’s fine. Call me whatever.”
“Okay, Ames.”
They reached the porch now and Sy looked as nervous as Amy felt. He put his hands in his pockets, then took them out and wiped them on his jeans. She hated seeing the emotion on his face, because it meant that he cared a lot about this moment. It may have been selfish, but she didn’t want him to care about seeing Delia. She wanted Sy to care about her.
Amy tried to prepare herself for the reality of Delia and Sy together. But it did not compute. The only thing she felt sure of was that it would wrench her heart from her chest. Forget cancer. Heartbreak would take her out way faster.
She lifted her hand to knock, feeling the nerves firing away. Normally she just used her key, but for this
situation, having Delia open the door would be the best option. Suddenly, Amy felt like not telling Delia beforehand was a huge mistake.
That was her last thought before the door swung open. “Why are you knocking, dummy? Don’t you have a k—”
Delia’s perfect mouth froze in the middle of her greeting as her eyes landed on Sy. Amy tried to stuff down her jealousy, watching Delia’s blonde hair settling around her shoulders like some kind of shampoo commercial. Her blue eyes didn’t have as much makeup as they normally would, but she still managed to be impossibly beautiful.
Amy couldn’t make herself look at Sy. She didn’t want to see the lovestruck expression she had grown so used to when they were younger. Swallowing the knot of emotion in her throat, she forced words out of her mouth.
“Surprise!” Amy smiled at Delia, who was still in shock. “Well. I’ll let you two catch up.” She tried to push past Delia, who narrowed her eyes and grabbed Amy by the arm.
“Excuse us for just a moment, won’t you?” Delia said to Sy. Then she slammed the front door in his face. Amy wondered if it brought back memories of prom night. An inappropriate giggle rose in her throat.
“You think this is funny?”
The laughter died as suddenly as it came. “No.”
“What is he doing here?” Delia hissed.
“Kind of a long story. Um, I ran into him and he mentioned you and it just seemed like a good idea.”
“A good idea?” Delia’s voice sounded like it was winding up, getting louder with every syllable. Sy could probably hear them through the door. “You thought that bringing him here would make me—what? Happy?”
Her voice might be angry, but Amy noticed the way Delia’s hands smoothed down her hair and straightened the hem of her blouse. Her eyes were bright, but not just with anger. Delia might be angry, but she was also thrilled that Sy had come.
Amy’s heart sank. Sighing, she set the grocery bag down and took Delia by the arms. “Look. He’s here. There’s a history and some of it’s ugly. I think he wants to make things right by you.”
Her Second Chance Dream Groom Page 4
