by J. Saman
“He’s in love with Amelia,” Grace calls out as she reaches up to grab the tub of marshmallow fluff.
“Am not,” I call back before turning to Carter. “I might be.”
“Does she not feel the same way back?”
Carter is confused and I kinda get that. Kinda, but not really. “I have no idea. We haven’t talked about it. We’ve only been fake engaged for six weeks, actually dating for four. It’s new and we’re trying to not put any pressure on ourselves. That was my idea, actually and it’s not working out so well for me at the moment.”
“I’m not understanding,” he admits.
“Oliver’s worried about what happens to the relationship when the engagement side of this ends. Again, he’s in love with her and has no idea how she feels in return because he’s too much of a pussy to use his words and talk to her. Given his past, he’s jumpy like a woman with PID (pelvic inflammatory disease) getting a pelvic exam.”
“Thank you, voice of God. Believe it or not, Grace, I can speak for myself without you having to read my mind and do it for me. And can we not talk about pelvic exams. Work is done for the day.”
“Just moving things along.”
I flip her off and she laughs, returning with her arms loaded with more sugar than I can even begin to think about.
“How do you eat all that and still stay so small?” Brecken asks her, his sub on a plate as he reclaims the seat beside me while Grace sits on the floor in front of the coffee table so she has better access to her buffet.
“If you’re under stress, calories don’t count.”
Brecken snorts out a laugh around his bite of food. “Is that your scientific opinion, doctor, or just wishful thinking?”
“It’s fucking scientific,” she declares. “When you start delivering babies and doing surgery on lady parts, Brecken then you are free to comment but not before. Keep eating your sub and be thankful I don’t like chicken parm, or that would be my next victim.” She huffs, dropping her elbows to my coffee table. “Why do I hang out with you losers? And why isn’t Rina here to buffer any of this?”
“Because Rina is working, and we’re way more fun to be with than Tony is. Plus, I feed your addiction,” I tell her. I like Tony, I just don’t love Tony. He’s a piece of dry toast. If starving, you’ll deal with it, but otherwise, you’d pass. Why she’s engaged to him, I’ll never understand.
“Wait, can we backtrack?” Carter interrupts, sipping his drink and wiping away a residual drop from his lip with his thumb. “What’s wrong with your engagement? For as sick as Mom is with the chemo, it’s giving her something to focus on and be happy about. The media is obsessed with the two of you, especially Amelia. She’s become their Cinderella. You’ve never looked so good in their eyes, and you were always their favorite of us. What am I missing?”
“Our engagement is set to end in six weeks.”
He shakes his head. “Why? Does it have to?”
“If they stayed engaged, eventually they’d have to plan a wedding,” Brecken jumps in. “And since they’ve crossed the line they shouldn’t have crossed and are together, it complicates things further.”
“Right.” I point at him. “What he said. Mom will never let me have a prolonged engagement. She’s already all over us to at the very least plan an engagement party. She’s mentioned that a winter wedding at the compound would be magical.”
“So,” Carter continues, “you need to end the engagement without ending the relationship and your relationship is too new to stay engaged and make it real because that means you’d have to plan a wedding and actually get married?”
“Something like that,” I say.
“Are we forgetting the fact that he’s also in love with her?” Grace chimes in.
“Quit it with the in-love stuff,” I groan. “It’s not helping anything. Can we focus on the engagement ending thing?”
Carter leans back in his chair, taking another pull of his amber liquid as he mulls this over. “Yeah. I can see how this a problem.”
“Thanks, big brother. Always there for the obvious. What do I do about it?”
He hitches up a shoulder. “Don’t look at me. I was in love with a woman for years and did nothing about it until it was too late. I’m the last person you should seek relationship advice from. But as I recall, we told you not to mix business with pleasure. You’re the one who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Though if you’re genuinely asking, Amelia is great and I think she feels the same way about you, so just see what the next six weeks bring and go from there.”
“Except he’s falling for her?” Grace goes on, ignoring my dropping the whole in love piece of this pie. “He’s in love and this is Oliver. A man who swore to never fall in love again,” Grace protests because she’s a woman and women love love. Men can take it or leave it, and the leave it side has pretty much been my life for the last seven years. But now, I’m starting to creep over to the dark side, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about that.
It’s only adding to this mess.
“I should have used you as my fake fiancée,” I say to Grace.
She starts to laugh only to choke on a gummy worm. Carter reaches over, patting her back until the item dislodges and she can breathe again. “Thanks,” she grumbles, reluctant to thank him for saving her life. Damn, what did my brother do to her? “And thanks to you, asshole, for making me choke,” she snaps at me. “No one would ever believe I would be engaged to you.”
“Why? You’re engaged to Tony and I’m way better looking, not to mention cooler than he is.”
Grace groans. “Leave Tony out of this. And you’re the least good-looking of your brothers.”
“Is that your way of saying you think I’m hot?” Carter asks her.
Her eyes roll, but she otherwise ignores his question.
“You’re only engaged to Amelia because you stepped in to play the hero for her at the reunion. You’re Oliver Fucking Fritz. You should have expected people to go bananas over you being engaged when all you did before was create scandal and broken hearts. Be that as it may, you need to talk to Amelia. Tell her how you feel.”
I shake my head adamantly, polishing off the rest of my drink before pouring myself another two fingers’ worth. Like I said, it’s that kind of night. “It’s too soon. She’s not there yet and I know it. It will only freak her out and make her run and I don’t want her to run.”
Want to know something else?
I miss her.
The woman left only twenty-four hours ago, and I fucking miss her already. I miss Layla too. I would have rather spent the evening with them at their place, watching teenage romance flicks and listening to their back and forth than sitting here with my friends drinking expensive booze and eating garbage. I don’t know what’s happening to me. All I know is that I can’t seem to stop it.
Then again, I haven’t exactly tried very hard.
Any time I consider holding off or pulling back or resisting or whatever smart thing I should do, I end up doing the complete and total opposite. I’m running full steam ahead into serious relationshipville and like the fool I am, I might be doing it alone. I have no fucking clue where Amelia’s head is with us.
None.
My reticent girl tends to not give much away.
I know she cares about me. I know she’s worried I’m going to break her heart—I ditto that sentiment. I know she’s scared about what happens with us in six weeks—same as I am. But I’m in love. Totally. Completely. Unconditionally. No turning back now in love.
Not only am I screwing things up with this fake engagement business deal, but I could very well end up getting my heart pounded on. Again. Only Amelia will do it with explosives and blow it to smithereens because I already know I like her way more than I ever liked Nora, and I was ready to marry that woman. For real.
“She won’t run,” Carter declares. “She’s in this with you. I know it. She told me as much at the Sox game and that was weeks ago now.”
/>
“Just tell me what to do about the engagement side of this mess,” I grumble, my mood turning south the more I think about the predicament I’m in. I’m not ready to tell Amelia how I feel. I don’t even like admitting it myself.
Love is scary. It’s wild and unpredictable. It holds unmatched power over lives and hearts. And when it grows restless or temperamental, it annihilates them.
Everyone is silent, exchanging wide-eyed, fuck-if-I-know expressions. Awesome.
“I think Carter is right,” Brecken finally announces. “I think all you can do is continue on like you’re doing and see what the next six weeks brings. Maybe something will happen, and the situation will naturally sort itself out.”
Yeah. With me going through the shredder.
27
AMELIA
I’ve never felt like such a fish out of water before. Almost literally.
“Do I need a life vest?” I ask Oliver as he holds my hand, leading Layla and me down the dock of the harbor.
He laughs. Actually laughs.
Does he not understand I’ve never in my life stepped foot on a boat before?
“No,” he tells me. “You don’t. We’re not going on the sailboat. My mom was worried the motion would make her nausea worse.”
At the mention of his mom, I’m reminded of what I’m really more nervous about his family. But I push that aside and focus on what he just said about the boat.
“I don’t understand,” I admit, and Layla starts chortling.
“Dude, we’re going on that thing.” She points straight ahead at the big fucking thing at the end of the dock.
“That? We’re going on that? It’s a cruise ship.”
“It’s not a cruise ship,” Oliver corrects me.
“Oliver, that thing is larger than a football field.” I’m not even joking.
“Honestly, I’m not sure how large it is. It’s my mother’s baby and one day it will be Carter’s since he asked first. Weird how that happened, but whatever. My dad’s sailing yacht is the really fun one to go on. I’ll take you on that this summer, but we’ll need Kaplan to help us sail it since he’s the one big into sailing along with my dad.”
“Jesus,” I hiss. “And what crazy thing are you hiding?”
“If you’re asking if I own a yacht, or an island, or something else fun, the answer is unfortunately no. But I do have a villa just outside of Positano, Italy, that I own with Luca. Besides that, I haven’t had time to really explore my options. Life of a resident and all that.”
All I can do is shake my head. And roll my eyes because Oliver is not a typical resident, that’s for sure. These people and their money.
“Cool,” Layla says, excitement lighting her blue eyes. “Can we go? I’m dying to see Italy. Imagine the food.” She groans, clutching her stomach in a food orgasm way.
“Not today, Sprite. Today is all about the water. Our first boating trip of the year. You’ll love it.”
He’s right, of course. The yacht is amazing.
We’re led up to what I guess is a sun deck, greeting the captain, Tom along the way. A steward takes our bags, informing us he’ll put them in our cabins. This ship has eight guest sleeping cabins and Layla is set to bunk up with Stella. We’re sailing out to Martha’s Vineyard for the long Memorial Day weekend, where they have a house and a private beach.
The weather is hot and sunny, absolutely perfect.
Cool wind whips up off the Atlantic, blowing my hair from my face as I walk around the spacious deck. This is the back of the shift or the stern, as I think it’s called. There are two levels back here, this one which has a small whirlpool/dipping pool surrounded by chaises and built-in benches as well as a shaded eating area that looks like it can accommodate ten. Beneath us is a lower deck that’s more like a landing bay for a smaller speed boat and jet skis.
The front of the boat also has a large open area and in the center of it is the main living space that flows three tiers up as well as a few below deck. It’s overwhelming and beautiful and insanely cool. Never in my life did I ever expect I’d be aboard a luxury mega-yacht.
Layla is already splashing in the pool with Stella when we’re greeted by Oliver’s father. He gives me a cool, barely polite nod, his eyes swiping over me before hugging his son. “Glad you could work this out,” he says to Oliver, completely ignoring me.
“We wouldn’t have missed it,” Oliver replies and his father frowns at the word we. Oliver makes a point to raise our joined hands, kissing the finger with the ring on it, and that frown quickly morphs into a scowl.
I think it’s safe to say his father hasn’t warmed to me in the two months we’ve been pulling this charade off. While his mother can’t get enough of us, his father hardly acknowledges my existence, and whenever he does, it’s with disdain. I don’t know what to do about it. Oliver says he just needs time to adapt, but I think it’s more than that.
The man genuinely dislikes me and everything I represent.
When this all first began, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to like me. Now I want them to love me. I’m in love with their son and I have no parents of my own. I miss my father. I miss my mother. I wouldn’t mind having surrogate parents. People who love me.
“They’re here,” Octavia announces, walking up to us with outstretched arms before she wraps both of us up into a hug. “This is the absolute perfect weekend. My entire family in one place.” She looks at me as she says this, like I’m one of her family.
And instantly, I’m choked up.
It’s like she just read my heart’s and mind’s desire.
With each passing day I’m with Oliver, that seems to be more and more of what I want. Falling for Oliver, loving him, it’s becoming as natural as breathing. Terrifying and nerve-wracking, but nothing short of splendid and soul-quenching. It’s not something I thought I would have like this. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Any second, because that’s how it always goes.
The moment everything feels absolutely perfect, just so right, that’s when the rug inevitably gets pulled out from under you.
She must read this on my face because she grabs my hand, gingerly yanking me into her side. Her movements are careful, her frame slighter than even the last time we saw her a few days ago. It breaks my heart, but hopefully once the chemo is finished, she’ll be stronger than she ever was.
“Come with me, Amelia,” she says, grinning conspiratorially. “Let’s let the boys play and we’ll sit in the sun, catching some Vitamin D.”
“No wearing the red bikini until I can see it though,” Oliver says, and my face heats six ways to Sunday. My mouth falls open, and he laughs, leaning in and kissing me, right here in front of his parents. “Just wanted to see that pretty blush. Have fun.” Another kiss, this one to my cheek and then Octavia is dragging me along.
“Oliver mentioned you’ve never been on a boat before,” she states, leading me over to the build-in bench along the side of the yacht. “It makes me glad we’re on this one and not the sailboat. We won’t be going fast so you’ll hardly feel the movement on a ship this size.”
“That’s good to know. I was worried about feeling queasy,” I admit, matching her position with my face upturned toward the sun. It’s still early in the day, but the rays instantly seep into me, warming me through in the most splendid of ways.
“This was my father’s ship,” she goes on. “When he passed, I inherited it along with everything else from the Abbot line. Over the years, we’ve made some upgrades, but I spent most of my childhood on this ship, sailing around the world with my parents who were never happy in one place. Or with each other for that matter.” She winks at me. “It feels as much like home to me as anything else.”
“It’s lovely. Did you enjoy growing up that way? Obviously not with parents who didn’t enjoy each other.” My face hits my hands. “Sorry.”
She squeezes my forearm. “You’re perfect. My parents were arranged, similar to Dr. Fritz and me, though
it worked out far better for us than them. But do you mean traveling the world?”
“Yes. That’s what exactly I meant. It sounds incredible. I haven’t been anywhere other than Massachusetts and New Hampshire where I went to school for a couple of years.”
“I did and I didn’t.” She crosses and then uncrosses her legs, waving her hand about the ship. “It’s a big, beautiful world and in traveling, I learned and saw a lot. Both the good and the bad side of what this life can do to people. But it was also lonely. I was an only child, as is Dr. Fritz, which is why we both wanted a big family. Well, after we decided we liked each other, that is.” She winks at me again, and right now, I see so much of Oliver in her charm.
I laugh at that. “A big family you got. I can’t imagine what raising five boys was like. I’m having enough trouble with one teenage girl and Layla is amazingly easy.”
“It was challenging, I won’t lie about that. I liked doing a lot of it myself, but I was desperate for a girl, so we kept going. Believe me, I didn’t intend on having six children. I likely should have stopped after the twins, but I don’t regret a second of it.”
“I’m grateful you kept going for the girl.”
Something about me saying that has Octavia’s expression sobering. She sits up, her cold, bone-thin hand wrapping around my forearm, drawing me away from the sun to meet her eyes.
“You really love him, don’t you.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but I swallow thickly and nod all the same. And I’m not even doing it to maintain our ruse. I’m telling her a truth I haven’t admitted to anyone. Certainly not to Layla or Oliver. Hell, I’ve scarcely allowed myself to think in those terms.
Without a word, she wraps me up in her arms, holding me tight. “I’m so grateful for you, Amelia. You’ve brought my son back to life. Back to love. And his heart is too big and beautiful to be lonely and empty. It needed a match. Someone who would love him back with all the passion and fire he deserves.”
