by Emma Tharp
When she drains her glass of the last of her cabernet, she says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to go. Today’s been a tough day for me and I need to some time to myself.”
“But...”
She doesn’t let me protest. “I know I’m cutting the evening short, but I can’t handle any more tonight. I’ll see you again next week, like I said I would. Okay?”
It’s final. She’s done tonight. There is no sense in trying to change her mind or talk her out of it now. Not my stubborn Amelia. “Next week you’re coming to my place.”
Her eyes flash something. Is it fear, concern? I can’t tell.
“I want to talk to you, Amelia. Without all of this.” I wave my hand around the crowded restaurant. “Please don’t worry. I won’t touch you if it’ll help you keep your head on straight.” It might kill me, because I want my hands all over her, but that’s not why I want her at my place. Tonight was a fail. We couldn’t be ourselves. We have to get back to being Jackson and Amelia. Being alone together will help get us there. At least I hope it will.
“Okay. I’ll stop by your place next week.” She stands and starts walking away.
Throwing cash on the table, I rush out behind her.
Amelia sees me coming and slows down.
The words I want to say prickle at the back of my throat, so I leave them there. When we stop in front of her car, I want to kiss her or hug her at least, but I don’t. It’s clear from how far she’s standing from me and her stiff posture that I shouldn’t even try to be courteous with a kiss on the cheek. “Drive safe.”
“Thanks,” she says, her tone flat. “See you next week.”
“Will you call me if you want to talk before then?”
When she looks down and kicks at something I don’t see, I know her answer is no. She won’t be picking up her cell and dialing my number any time soon.
“See you next week,” I say and turn to walk toward my car. How the fuck am I going to make it a week without seeing her again and trying to make this right?
6
Amelia
“No, he insisted that I come to his house,” I tell Dora on my drive to Jackson’s. My hands are shaking and sweaty. If my phone wasn’t synced to my car, I wouldn’t be able to have this conversation. I’d have dropped my cell on the floor by now.
“If you didn’t want to see him, why did you agree to it?” Her tone holds some annoyance.
The reason I didn’t bring this meeting up with her today at the office was because I knew she’d try and talk me out of it. She’s had zero patience with the Jackson situation since the miscarriage. “I made a promise to Jackson, and I intend to keep it.” And I do want to see him.
Jackson is pretty much all I’ve thought about since our last meeting a week ago. It didn’t go well. He looked amazing and smelled as good as ever. His eyes were sad and he was open and wanted to talk. Everything was perfect. Except me. I was spiteful, short, and just plain bitchy. It’s not how I intended on being, but it’s who showed up.
“Girl, you don’t owe him anything.”
“I appreciate all of your support through everything. But I’ve got to do this. Okay?”
There’s a long sigh through the line. “I’ve got your back. Be careful, you’re still fragile.”
She’s got that right. “I will. I don’t think he wants to hurt me.” He was patient with me last week, so I’ve got no reason to think that will change tonight. “I’ve got to go, I just pulled onto his street.”
“I’m here if you want to talk tonight.”
“Thank you.”
“Bye,” she says.
When I hang up, I exhale a deep breath of air through my lips. My heart rate is speeding up and a wave of nausea passes over me. Before I lose my nerve, I go up to his door on shaky legs and knock three times. He must’ve been waiting for me, because I don’t even have a chance to think about what to say when he answers because the door swings open seconds after I knock.
“Amelia,” Jackson says. He scans me, hunger in his sapphire eyes despite the fact that I’m wearing a baggy sweat suit. I did this by design, going so far as to wear a pair of unflattering grandma underwear. Tonight isn’t about being physical with Jackson. I don’t deny that it would be amazing to be with him again, but my heart isn’t ready to let him back in. And my attire should scream to him that my body is off limits. Even though he agreed not to touch me tonight, I took the temptation element away.
“Hi,” I say, doing my best to keep my gaze on his face. He’s wearing shorts and a form fitting t-shirt that shows off the curve of his biceps and washboard abs. Not here to look at his body, Amelia. Focus.
“Come in. Are you hungry? I ordered takeout from the Greek place we like.”
Walking in the kitchen, I can smell chicken and garlic. “I could eat. Thank you.”
“Let’s sit at the table.”
He leads me into his kitchen where he has two plates set up and wine glasses. My heart flutters in my chest. He’s never done anything like this for me before. He’s trying. Maybe I could’ve dressed a little cuter tonight.
“Please, sit down.” He points toward a chair. “And I opened a bottle of red. Want some?”
“Sure.” I watch him pour my glass, unsure of what to say.
He has the takeout containers on the table and he hands me one with my favorite chicken gyro and sweet potato fries. “This one is yours.”
“Thank you, this is great.”
“You’re welcome. But I want to thank you for coming tonight. I could tell it wasn’t easy for you.”
“You’re right. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.” I gesture with my hands around the room.
Nodding, he says, “I know that. And I didn’t want to pressure you, but last week didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. We need to talk and being in a public space trying to have a private conversation isn’t ideal. Don’t you agree?”
It’s my turn to nod. “Yes.” His stare hasn’t left mine. It’d be easy to sit here and drown in his eyes as our food gets cold.
“I’m going to stand by what I said. I won’t touch you,” he whispers under his breath something that sounds like ‘even though I want to.’
“I appreciate that, Jackson. Let’s just talk. That’s what you want, right?” I take a bite of my gyro and nearly moan. I don’t know what they do with their tzatziki sauce, but it’s amazing.
“Yes, it’s what we need.” He takes his first bite. When he licks his lips, I try not to stare at his perfect mouth. I’ve got to keep my mind out of the gutter.
Taking a sip of my wine, I let the oaky flavor linger on my tongue before I eat a fry. “You’re right.”
“When we talked last week, it was clear you were upset. Of course, you have every right, but you said a couple of things that I keep hearing over and over again. First.” He holds up one finger. “You have to stop blaming yourself. This wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, okay?”
A painful sting forms at the corners of my eyes. Damn. Please don’t cry. “If it were that easy for me, I’d do it.”
“Please try to give yourself some grace. It’s okay to let the guilt go. And second, you mentioned that I didn’t go through the pain. And while it’s true I didn’t go through the physical, trust me when I say I’ve gone through emotional hurt. It’s not easy for me to talk about these things, but it’s us, Amelia.” Jackson’s hand comes toward mine, but before he touches me, he lifts it in the air above mine and it hovers there. Electricity prickles the air between our skin. My breath catches and we aren’t even touching. When his fingertip grazes the top of my hand, heat burns in the tiny space as if it’s melting me. Staring at his beautiful face, I know he feels something too. We share a look, his pupils dilate, sapphire eyes smoldering.
Clearing my throat, I attempt to ease some of the mounting tension between us. He moves his hand and takes a sip of his wine, the moment over. “When I said those words last week, I in no way wanted to diminish your feelin
gs. And thank you for sharing. I know this isn’t easy for you.”
“It isn’t, but you’re worth it.”
His words warm my insides that’ve felt hard and frozen since the miscarriage. “I don’t know how to navigate these feelings, Jackson. I apologize. I know I haven’t been easy to deal with.”
“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be confused and unsure. I wish you’d let me in, but if you can’t talk to me, would you please open up to someone?” The skin around his eyes scrunches up and he shifts around in his chair. “Maybe a professional.”
Dora gave me the exact same advice. Maybe I should consider it. “I’ve been toying around with the idea. I’ll look into it.”
His shoulders, that were just tucked up under his ears, relax and go back to their neutral position. “Good. And I don’t know if I have the right answers, but I want to be your shoulder. Please.”
Thinking back to my memories of Jackson, he’s always had a warm, caring side for my family and his own, but his relationships with women have always been superficial. Even with me, things were heating up, of course, but I wasn’t sure if or when things would go deeper and yet, here we are. A spark of hope ignites deep inside me. “Thank you for the offer. It means a lot to me.”
“I’m glad. Can I ask you a question? If it’s too much, you can say so.”
“Okay,” I say.
He’s peering down at my hand, like he wants to hold it, but he makes no move to break his word to me. “After the miscarriage, you pulled away from me. I have to know: why?”
What a loaded question. There are so many reasons and I’m not sure I’m ready to spill them all yet. It’s ridiculous to be upset that he wasn’t there when it all happened. When I called, he was asleep and didn’t know. I can’t be mad about that, but I do wish that he was there for me. And then afterward, why didn’t he come to see me? He should’ve at least tried. And then when the guilt set in, I was a mess. Such a heavy blanket of grief was laid on me, it felt impossible to get out from under it. I couldn’t help but think I could’ve done something to save the baby. Dora and Jackson have told me to drop that, but it isn’t that easy. Maybe I will make an appointment with a counselor to start working with the guilt. And what also upsets me is that I never really felt as if Jackson wanted the baby. Was it a relief for him when he found out about the miscarriage? “The guilt has been very difficult for me to handle. I know you said I should drop it, and I’m trying, but I still feel like I could’ve done something more. And I wonder how much you really wanted the baby.” There I said it.
He blinks rapidly and his head angles back like I just slapped him. “My god, Amelia. I never would’ve wished for you to miscarry. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, no. I mean, I don’t know. I surprised you with the news, and trust me, I was surprised when I found out, but I never got the impression that you were ready.”
When he sits up straighter and holds my stare in his sapphire pools, I’m transfixed by their intensity. “It’s no secret that I was surprised, but after I sat with it, I was ready. I wasn’t kidding about building the house. And I know I haven’t been an open book with sharing how I feel, but I want to work on it. I want you, Amelia. Can we try?”
Overwhelmed is an understatement. He’s opening up more now than he ever has. A painful sting forms at the corner of my eyes. I smile through the tears that threaten to fall.
“I love seeing that,” he says.
“What?” I must look like a fool, sitting somewhere between crying and being overjoyed in my baggy sweats and granny panties.
“That smile that hasn’t shown itself in a long time.”
The corners of my mouth peek higher with his admission. “It makes me happy when you open up. I know it isn’t easy for you. Thank you for that.”
“I plan on giving you more of that. Just so you’re warned. Next week I’m coming to pick you up. Be ready.”
My stomach does a little flip flop with excitement. What does he have up his sleeve? “But I thought you said you didn’t want to go out in public.”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting it out of me. You’re going to have to wait,” he says, a conspiratorial look on his face.
My mind reels, trying to guess what plans he could be working up in his head. We sit and enjoy another glass of wine. He tells me about a project they’ve been working on at the office. I enjoy listening to him talk about his brothers. He’s open, expressive, and the mood lightens. It’s what we need to get past the heaviness of our situation. It’s my hope that with time, I can open up again and let him in. I want that; I’m just not sure I know how to get there.
7
Jackson
“Isn’t that always the case?” Patrick asks and then takes a long drink of his beer.
I invited him out for a drink with me before I pick up Amelia. I need something to take the edge off and I haven’t caught up with my brother about personal stuff in a few weeks. Work has been chaotic and it isn’t even our busy season. “You truly don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. I miss Amelia so much all week, but I have to wait for the one day that she’s promised me.”
“How has she been?”
“When I was with her last week, I think I was starting to make a breakthrough. Even though it was small, it was something. And I think I got through to her about seeing a counselor.”
“It will help her to speak to someone. I was hesitant at first when Maggie left, but after I broke down and went it was the best thing I could have done for myself.” He looks me directly in the eye and nods his head.
“Let’s hope she took my advice. She seemed open to the idea, but I can’t force her to do anything. She’s stubborn.” When I think about her expression when I mentioned that she gets help, she seemed to be contemplating it.
“I’m sure it’ll work itself out,” Patrick says.
Swallowing the last sip of my beer, I say, “Thank you. I hope so. What about you? How’s Lauren and the new nanny?”
Shaking his head, he says, “Lauren is fantastic, but this nanny seems to have a stick shoved up her ass. I know she’s taking good care of Lauren, but I don’t particularly like her. Is that enough of a reason to can her?”
“Hell if I know.” I’m the least qualified person to ask any questions about children or childcare.
“It’s not like I have the time right now to deal with it.” Patrick pulls cash out of his wallet and throws a few bills on the bar.
“Doesn’t seem like it’s going to end anytime soon, does it?” My brothers and I are fortunate to have such a successful business. McLoughlin Contracting started with my grandfather and then my father and now it belongs to my brothers and me. We never lack for jobs and we keep expanding and adding more crews.
“I don’t think so. You still thinking about building a new house?” he asks.
This has been weighing on me. I’d love to build the house and when we are ready, Amelia and I could move into it. But with things the way they are with her and I, I don’t know if it’s a wise decision. “Not sure. I told Brae to hold the lot for me for the time being and he’s good with it.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
I sure as hell hope I do. Everything I’ve been feeling lately is uncharted territory. All I know is that I want Amelia. I’ve wanted her for years, but she was off-limits, my best friend’s baby sister. Now that I know what it’s like to be with her, I can’t go back to nothing. My goal is to get her back and hold on, and damn the consequences. Will is going to have to learn to live with it. “You know I will. But I better get going.” I throw some cash on the bar and stand up to go.
Patrick gets up and shakes my hand. “Good luck tonight.”
“Thanks, man. I’m going to need it.”
After I leave the bar, I get on my Harley, secure my helmet, and head to my favorite deli, Grants, to grab some food for tonight. I’ve got plans for Amelia and me. I hope she enjoys them.
This spot has the best subs in t
own. I order Amelia a ham and swiss on wheat and myself a roast beef and provolone. While I watch them make it, my mouth actually waters. The rolls they use are soft on the inside and crusty on the outside, the perfect combination. I pay for the subs, go to my bike to secure the food in the saddlebag, and then get back on my bike to go pick up Amelia.
When we made plans for this week, I didn’t tell her anything. She and I haven’t been on a ride since Ireland. It’s not too cold today and the sun is shining bright. She’ll be fine if she wears a warm jacket. My hope for the day is that she and I continue to get closer. It’s all I want and I hope she wants it too. Her signals have been mixed lately; it’s hard to tell from one meeting to the next if she wants to pursue anything with me or not. It seems the roles have reversed. I was the one that was wishy-washy after we got back from Ireland. What was I so damn scared of? It was commitment and of what Will would think. I was being a damn wimp when she was full steam ahead. Now I know what it was like to be all in with her and I miss being with her and there are moments now when I’m not sure I will ever have her again.
Pulling on her street, my heart rate speeds up like it used to before hockey games. Adrenaline is coursing through me as if it’s time to perform. I guess it is. Parking in front of the house next to Amelia’s, I cut the engine early. It’s not easy to hide the fact that I’m on a bike, but I want it to be a surprise. She won’t be expecting it.
Taking deep breaths, I knock on Amelia’s front door. Wonder if she’ll be wearing sweats again, like last time. If she thought her outfit would lessen my attraction for her, she’s dead wrong. Even with sweats on, hair up, and no makeup, she’s still the hottest woman I know.
“Hi, Jackson,” she says.
She squeezes the oxygen from my lungs. Today she’s in a form fitting red top with cleavage showing and black leggings. Her makeup is light and her hair cascades down her back in curls. And she’s wearing red lipstick. That shit should be illegal. She looks edible and boy would I love to take a taste of her right now. But that’s not on the agenda today. Put your damn tongue in your mouth, Jackson. “Amelia, you look beautiful.”