“Wow. Guess it’s been a while since we were there.”
I scan the market, furrowing my brows when I don’t see her. Even in jeans and a blouse, Amelia wouldn’t blend in. Not to me, anyway. When I spot the back of her head through the crowd, muscles I hadn’t realized I’d been clenching loosen. Until I notice she isn’t alone. At first, I think she’s haggling with the man in a baby blue polo in front of her, but then he puts a hand on her upper arm. She shrugs him off immediately, and I’m speed walking in her direction.
As I get closer, I become more aware of her body language. Her head is ducked, as if she’s whispering. Her arms are crossed. The man looks over her head, darting his eyes toward the car parts booth as if he’s looking for someone. Me? Clean-shaven with studied posture and ironed clothing, he isn’t a flea market salesman.
I strain to hear their conversation, but I can’t until I’m a few feet away.
“What are you even doing in this part of the city? At a flea market?” she asks. “You live across town, and you hate this kind of thing.”
“Amelia?” I ask.
The man looks over her head. His eyes lock on me like laser beams are about to shoot out and slice me down the middle.
Amelia turns around, facing me. Tension cords her neck and collarbone. She touches my arm. “Let’s go.”
“Who is this?”
“Reggie,” she says. “Or, as you know him, my asshole ex.”
My back stiffens. Her nervous energy makes sense now, but it only reminds me of the reasons she’s upset. He’s here, in the flesh, the “man” who not only cheated on Amelia for a year but who manipulated her for longer and used sex as a weapon. A punishment. Something I’m now working to undo.
Even if I have reason to be angry, I understand almost immediately it’s not the way to get under this man’s skin. He’s just as skeevy as I pictured with the smooth-skinned face and hands of a little boy rather than a man. I put an arm around Amelia’s neck, bringing her into my side. To my surprise, she relaxes against my body, and it only makes me feel more protective.
“What’s this about?” I ask him.
“It’s between me and my wife,” Reggie says, eyeing my over-the-top display of affection. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Amelia opens her mouth, but I don’t give her the chance. “Your soon-to-be ex-wife,” I correct. “My current girlfriend. You can say what you have to say in front of me.”
“Tell your boy toy to go wait across the street with the other greasers,” he says with an upward tilt of his chin toward Amelia. “It’s got nothing to do with him.”
His attempt at insults has the opposite effect he means it to, and my anger simmers into a less-threatening irritation. Name-calling is a sure sign of a loser who only fights dirty.
“He’s my boyfriend, Reggie,” Amelia says.
“After three weeks? Bullshit. You’ve never even mentioned him.”
“Why would I?” she asks. “You had a girlfriend while we were married. I figure it’s okay that I have one now that we’re divorced.”
“We’re not divorced,” he says.
“Logistics.”
“All I want is an hour. Come sit with me. You owe me that.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Fine—then you owe it to us. It’s like you’ve blocked out the first couple years entirely,” he glances at me, “when it was good. It was so good, muffin.”
I nearly gag at the pet name. Alerts are firing off inside me. I don’t like that he thinks she owes him anything, even time. I force myself to let Amelia handle it, though.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she says, and I check her expression to see if she’s serious. “It’s just that . . . the bad outweighs the good by so much, nothing you do from this day forward could ever even it out.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t know that. We can get back there.”
“Hey, man,” I say. “Back off. I just told you she’s my girlfriend.”
“Marriage is a commitment, a journey,” he continues, avoiding my glare, “and you’re treating it as if it can be tossed out like garbage.”
“I tried,” she says, but her heart isn’t it.
“No you didn’t,” Reggie says quickly, as I keep my mouth shut, watching him do his thing with my own two eyes. He heard the quaver in her voice just like I did. “You ran out when you found out about the affair and never gave me—us—a chance to put it right. How is that trying?”
Amelia glances away. I’ve had enough. “It’s over, man. You need to go home and sort shit out with your lawyer.”
“It’s not over,” he says slowly, “until I say.”
Amelia scoffs. I’m sure she can feel the tense and release of my bicep against her neck. He can call me what he wants, but as far as I’m concerned, he’s done jerking her around.
“What fantasy world do you live in that you think I need your permission to leave you?” she asks.
“The one in which I own fifty-one percent of you—your business, your apartment, your bank account.” He tilts his head. “I paid for the bed you fucked him in. I might as well own your left tit.”
I lunge for him before I even make a conscious choice, but he leaps out of my grasp, anticipating my attack. Amelia clasps onto my elbow, pulling me back with all her weight. “That’s what he wants,” she says. “A reaction. Don’t give it to him.”
Slight as she is, she’s able to subdue me long enough for the initial shock of his words wear off. “You piece of shit—”
He looks at her. “It’s the truth, and she knows it. You can play boss all you want in the bedroom, but you know who’s in charge. Me. Your only choice is whether you decide to fight against me, or alongside me.”
“Go to hell,” she says, stepping around me. I gently take her bicep, keeping her closer to me than him. “You’re a sad, lonely man with nothing better to do than swindle people out of their money and make me miserable.”
He laughs loudly. A small crowd has gathered, and a couple teenagers have their cells aimed at us. I wave to get the boys’ attention. They stuff their phones in their pockets before I even say, “Put it away.”
“Sad? Lonely?” Reggie asks. “You don’t know anything about my life. Women smell money, Amelia, and I’ve got lots of it. They’re all over me. But you know something? I haven’t touched a single one. Because I have a good woman at home, one who doesn’t make me want to go find someone else. Virginia is—”
“Virginia?” Amelia asks, her body stiffening against me. “You told me it was over with her.”
“I lied. She’s left Robert. As soon as you and I divorce, I’m proposing to her. She makes me happy, something you never did. She’s there when I leave for work and when I come home. She doesn’t treat me like I’m second place to a job.”
“Is that why you came to my place the other week, begging me to take you back?” she asks.
“You’re right—I must’ve gone temporarily insane,” he says. “You nag, you question every decision I make, you act like I didn’t give you everything. Virginia is grateful and never makes me feel like I’m not enough. She fulfills all my needs—she doesn’t even have to try to be beautiful and sexy, unlike some women.”
“Watch it,” I say, stepping between them. “I’m restraining myself for her sake, but you’re on my last fucking nerve.”
“If you have all that, then why won’t you let me go?” she pleads.
His eyes go blank, as if she’s just asked him the square root of the Brooklyn Bridge.
“I think you should leave,” I tell him.
He doesn’t even look at me. “You first.”
I step closer to him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. What I meant was, get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass all the way to Hoboken.”
Finally, he looks up at me, and for all my rage, the fire in his eyes is a little alarming. Whatever this thing with Amelia is, it runs deep for him.
Before I can figure it out,
he sets his jaw and retreats. The haze over his eyes clears, and now, he’s focused on me. “Fine.” He holds up his palms. “I guess she’s allowed a revenge fuck considering the circumstances. But I know what we have,” he says, “and it doesn’t go away just because I made a mistake.”
He stalks off, roughly pushing his way through the crowd. Once I’m comfortable with his distance, I turn around. “‘A mistake,’” I mock. “He has a seriously fucked-up perception of reality.”
Amelia’s hunched over with her back to me, pinching the bridge of her nose. I put an arm around her. “Hey,” I say. “He’s gone.”
She ducks away from me too suddenly for me to stop her, especially since it’s the last thing I expect. “I just need a second.”
“That’s fine.” With my arms empty, I cross them over my chest. “What’s going on?”
She shakes her head, looking at the ground. “I can’t believe him. I thought it was over.”
I want to pull her back to me, but I can practically see the emotions working through her. Whatever just caused tears to form at the corners of her eyes is being replaced with anger. As much as I want to do something, I don’t know what will help, so I wait.
“How could he want that home wrecker? I’ve read about adultery, and a lot of the time, infidelity isn’t about romance. Cheaters are selfish, self-indulgent—”
As she talks, I glance at the same spot on the ground she’s staring at. This is why she’s so upset? Because he’s with someone else? I take a deep breath and try not to read into it. As my anger settles, regret replaces it. Regret that I didn’t knock him out cold. Regret that I almost lost my temper. Back in the day, hotheaded reactions were par for the course. But I have too much at stake to fly off the handle now. “Amelia.”
She looks up as if she’d forgotten I was there. “I’m sorry.” She absentmindedly dabs at her eyeliner. “Whenever something is going right for me, he ruins it. It’s like he has a sixth sense.”
“He’s just trying to get under your skin any way he can. He might not even be with her, he’s just using it to get you to react.”
She closes her eyes and nods. “No, I know. You’re right. Still—”
“You should be more upset about the way he spoke to you.”
She puts her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and finally looks up again. “Yeah. He gets like that when he’s hurt or embarrassed. He’s proud.”
“Proud or not, that’s inexcusable.”
“I know. I’m making excuses again.”
“Again?”
She shakes her head. “When I started therapy, I would make excuses for him to Dianne. I thought we’d worked past it, though.”
“Maybe it’s always a work in progress,” I offer, trying to be helpful. I’ve never been much for excuses—making or accepting them. Try as I might, though, I’m not sure I’ll ever understand the power he has over her. How he managed to get her into this state within minutes, or how she can’t see through his words. What I do understand, though, is Reggie. Now that Amelia has opened up to me, and now that I’ve met him, I have him pegged. Power. He wielded it over her, and he feels it slipping away. He’s an insecure man who works in one of the most powerful industries in the world in one of the most powerful cities in the world—and it’s a dangerous combination. Power, control, influence. He gets them through sex, money, and love, and he gets those through manipulation, coercion, intimidation. The pieces go together to complete a puzzle. If I can figure him out so quickly, why can’t Amelia?
I run through the conversation as best I can. Maybe if I show her the idiotic tools of his manipulation, she’ll understand and calm down. Money—check. He said he had lots of it, and implied any sane woman would want a piece of it. Love—check. Virginia has his love, and it’s better than Amelia’s ever was. Sex—check. He diminished my relationship with her. I’m torn between two different instincts—one to protect Amelia from Reggie, the other to protect Bell by staying levelheaded.
“I hope he and I don’t cross paths again anytime soon,” I say, “not for his sake but for mine. I can’t afford to lose my temper.”
“I understand.” She nods slowly, dazed. “I’m sorry you even had to meet him.”
“What was he doing here? What does he want?”
“One minute he wants me, but then he brags about being happy with her.” She’s no longer looking at me, but off to the side, as if addressing someone who isn’t there. “I think you’re right—I doubt they’re back together, but in the moment, when he’s saying those things, I’m there again. I’m back in my bedroom watching them go at it for a full ten seconds before I start screaming.”
I watch her closely, my teeth clenched. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have killed another man in my bed. “He knows how to get to you.”
She nods. “Whatever will hurt the most, that’s what he says. And it does. It’s not like I want him back, but when he rubs it in like that . . .”
“I get it. You loved him.” I remember all the nights I’d lie in bed, cursing Shana. I never wanted to see her face again—and I missed the way she fit in my arms. The little snort she made when she laughed too hard. “That love doesn’t just go away overnight, unfortunately.”
She swallows, and we exchange more than a simple look. I study her, and she does the same to me. Here we are on the precipice of something new, and neither of us knows what’ll happen. I’m not even sure we know enough about our own feelings yet, much less each other’s. Does she still love him on some level? Do I still love Shana? Is there a chance in hell she’d go back to Reggie? The thought should wrack me with fear, send me running in the other direction. She could leave, just like Shana, and I’d be the blind fool who believed her when she said she was over her ex.
But when that realization is finished working its way through me, I’m still standing in the same spot. Somewhere along the way, she became worth it to me. The threat of pain that comes with keeping her in my life—it’s not enough to scare me away. In fact, it’s the threat of competition that stokes a fire in me. It makes me want to put up a fight.
And then, as if I’d spoken my thoughts aloud and she didn’t care for what she heard, she sniffs and turns away. “You should go. You’ll be late picking up Bell.”
I check my watch. “I still have a few minutes.”
She tucks some of her hair behind her ear and seems fascinated by something in the street. “Yes, but I should run too. It just hit me how much work I have to get done this weekend,” she says. “I should’ve done it last night, but—”
“But instead you came three times,” I say, hearing the roughness of my own voice.
She bites her lip harder than I think she means because she releases it right away. I’ve brought her back to what’s important. Us. For a moment, I think she’ll come to me. She doesn’t. “It was great,” she says stiffly. “I had a great time. I just need to . . . go.”
“Great?” I ask. “That’s all you’ve got?”
“Maybe,” she says. “So what if it is? I said it was great, I didn’t say okay or complete shit.”
I raise both eyebrows at her, noting the sudden flush of her face. “Okay, you’re mad, I get it,” I say. “I don’t get why, but—”
“I appreciate that you stuck up for me, but you’re not actually my boyfriend, Andrew. This part is ugly and hard and I’m telling you, as nicely as I can, although you’re pushing me, that I want to be alone.”
“Hold up. You just completely flipped on me.” She won’t look at me as she inches backward like a caged animal. “Why? Are you having second thoughts about getting back together with him?”
She widens her eyes, stopping in her tracks. “I would never, ever—he disgusts me.” Her face crumples. “Didn’t you hear anything I said last night?”
“Of course I heard. I heard every goddamn word,” I say, reeling. I’m raising my voice but I’ve been holding back too long, and I can’t seem to control it. “I’m disgusted. I’m outraged. But I
don’t understand why you’re suddenly acting like I’m the bad guy. I just want to protect you from whatever black hole you’re standing at the edge of right now.”
“You’re being dramatic,” she says.
The accusation is so ridiculous, I laugh. “Babe, I don’t do drama. Neither do you, which is one of the many things I like about you. I see your mind spinning, though. You’re going down a path that’s not good for you. I’m just trying to bring you back.”
She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I know. I know. I wasn’t expecting him to say all of that. I feel like I’m right back in the middle of it, so . . . so fucking stupid and blind and—”
“Hey.” I pull her hands from her face and hold them. “You’re not stupid. You’re not blind. You trusted him, and he manipulated and betrayed you on purpose. He knows what he’s doing.”
She looks me in the eyes. “This isn’t what you signed up for. We were supposed to spend one night together, and now you have to deal with this mess—”
“I don’t have to. I could walk away right now if I wanted. I’m not here out of obligation.”
She goes quiet, frowning. “You’re a good man.”
“Then don’t push me away. I told you I care, and I do, and I said I was your boyfriend, and you know what? It felt fucking good to say it. Because I think that moment on the sidewalk you told me you’d never be mine, in a way, you already were. I didn’t know it, but you won me over right there.”
Her hands loosen in my grip. She looks close to tears, and just like with Bell, it grabs onto something at the core of me and holds on. “You’re right,” she says. “I’m being crazy. I’m—I’m . . .”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You can be crazy. Just don’t walk away . . . even though we sort of had a pact that we would walk away.”
That gets me a smile, albeit a slight one. “What a mess.”
“A mess we created, so it can’t be bad.”
She glances at our intertwined hands and shifts her eyes to my watch. “You really should go, Andrew.”
I let go of her with a nod and a wave of relief. There’s still something off, but I think I’ve gotten through to her and that’s all I can do now. I need to go get Bell, and there’s a small part of me that wants to be a few minutes late or ask Sadie to take her to gymnastics instead, which is how I know Amelia’s right—I need to go get my girl.
The First Taste (Slip of the Tongue Book 2) Page 24