Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (13 page)

“Sure.”

I don’t know whether I was just saying it or I’d have the open mind. I never liked to let someone down, especially when he was so genuine. And needed my help in pulling off this practice takeover. I needed time, though. I just broke up with Mark. And although I did feel a few sparks fly when Wesley wore his heart on his sleeve, talking about touching me and other things, I wasn’t rushing into any decisions. I needed a clear head and time to think about this seriously.

“Do you want to stay at our house?”

Red flag number one.
Our
house?
Our
house became merely 5421 Finley Avenue the moment he left and flew away to Nevada. With slow-flower-grower girl.

“No, that’s okay. Remember? I don’t live there anymore. You can drop me back at the hotel and I’ll drive to
my
apartment.”

“But aren’t you supposed to be out by the end of the month? You can move back until we figure out the next step.”

Red flag number two.
The next step.
No, thank you; I can do the figuring out somewhere else…by myself. With no type of Wesley-like distractions. No
I love you and I was a big fat jerk
. No
I
’
ll digress to being a toilet bowl wiper and never soar to being an attorney if you don
’
t come back to me
. I just needed time…and lots of space to figure this out.

He parked next to my car and the silence was deafening. I could imagine myself seeing his Jeep in my rearview mirror and all this awkwardness behind us. But what to do in the meantime?

“Do you have any plans for Saturday night?”

Hello?
I just broke up with my boyfriend. Give me some time to have the usual week of guilt-free ice cream, breakup songs, and wondering what I’ll ever do without seeing that smile on Mark’s face ever again.

“I think I’m going to be doing something.”
How lame. Couldn
’
t I have just said learning crochet or washing my hair?

“Amy, I want to take you out on a date.”

“Duly noted, Wesley. But I’ve just ended a relationship. Don’t you think it’s bad form to be seen out dating someone else so soon?” I was not sincere. I hope he picked up on the sarcasm.

“Out with someone? I’m your husband, Amy.”

“And what were you when you were living with what’s-her-name?” Cheap shot, I know. But he asked for it.
Don
’
t use titles only when it
’
s convenient.

“Fine. But can I call you next week? Will you consider a date in the near future?”

I had zero ability to dash someone’s hopes. I even let the mothball guy from work continue to bring me pieces of sponge cake for lunch. He’d smile as I force-fed it to myself, just so he wouldn’t feel bad. I swore that was the reason I got diarrhea that next week. It usually takes some types of mold time to regenerate in the system before being purged. From there on out, I’d hide under my desk when I heard the scuffing of his big black shoes come near my door.

“Okay, Wesley. I’ll consider a date.”

A smile lit his entire face. I hadn’t seen that much teeth since someone forced him to smile for a picture ad they took out in the paper for the law practice to drum up new clients.

I was never so glad to be walking up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. The same stairs I grumbled on while having to carry ten bags of groceries because I was determined to make it in one trip.
Home sweet home!
Even if only for another week. And sharing space with packed cardboard boxes. It was indeed my private spot in the world. The only one I could lay claim to for the moment.

I flung the door open and felt for the light switch. I flipped it up. Nothing. My eyes widened, trying to see through the darkness.
What was going on?
I got out my pocket flashlight. Yes, I had one. It was attached to my mugger alarm and pepper spray. This girl was ready, but this girl didn’t want problems. Luckily, the pepper hadn’t been squirted, the alarm only once hit for testing purposes, and now the flashlight was earning its space in my purse.

I walked through the haunted-like mausoleum of my cardboard box sanctuary. Nothing was stirring, not even a mouse. Thank goodness; I feared I’d see some in this place. Especially living across the way from Mr. Bender. Strange odors always wafted to the breezeway when he was home. I was sure it would draw rodents, as it did well to deter me from walking near his door.

I tried another light switch. Nothing. And then it hit me. I had the electric shut off, thinking I’d be moved in with Mark by now. I was just going to pay a fee to the super to have the place cleaned if needed. I’d pretty much already done all the work myself, though. Oh well, that certainly didn’t work in my favor. With the holiday weekend here, I was pretty sure no one was at the electric office, waiting on pins and needles for a call requesting electricity. What to do?

There was only one thing to do. When I picked up my car from the hotel, the parking lot was packed. Everyone was visiting relatives and the lucky ones had reserved themselves a room. With no vacant hotels in the vicinity, Tom was my last resort. Funny thing about Tom; he was always my last resort. Always there. I’d just drive over to his house, plead to stay until I found my way out of this horrific jam, and hunker down with a gallon of ice cream and two spoons—lactose-free, of course. I’m certain he didn’t finish off the last gallon I stocked his freezer with a few months ago. Teaching that man to keep groceries on hand was a chore.

I pulled up to his house and could’ve sworn the electric company had a conspiracy against me. No lights were on there, either. I turned off my car and walked to the door. I had a key still on my chain from the days I lived there. You know, when I couldn’t go home to Wesley and I had ended it with Mark. Nope, nothing new here!

I called out to him as I flung open the door. It’s only natural. Entering someone else’s house and all. I flipped the light switch. Thankfully it worked. I kicked my shoes off and walked to the kitchen. Suddenly I remembered him telling me about having Thanksgiving dinner at his friend’s house. He went every year. They took pity on this homeless man and offered a hot meal on this one day that was nationally recognized for not being alone. I’d just wait for him in the living room. I didn’t want to presume he’d let me stay. I wanted to ask before taking a shower and filling the closet once again with my clothes.
Crap. I had to get my life together better than this.

Waking up with a crick in my neck and feeling as though I was being watched was certainly not what was intended when I closed my eyes to rest them for a second. I must’ve gotten too comfortable in that instant, or too warm after I pulled an ultra-soft blanket from the back of Tom’s chair and laid it over me. The next thing I knew when I opened one eye, Tom was staring at me.

“Good morning.” His smile spread slowly on his lips as he held his coffee cup.

I squished my eyes together tightly and opened them up again. “Oh my gosh, Tom. What time is it?”

He looked down at his watch. “It’s a little after eight. Wanna tell me anything?”

I stretched first and then sat up, pushing down my hair from all sides. I could only imagine what I looked like.

“It’s too long of a story.”

“Lucky for you I’ve got time. My office is closed until Monday.”

Of course, it was still the dreaded weekend. Still only hours after my relationship ended, and a day after my husband asked me back. Was there a universal fast-forward button and only the privileged knew about it?

I took a deep breath. “Well, in a nutshell, the whole fairy-tale ending thing I was going for with Mark is over; I spent the night—well, not technically—with Wesley; and now I’m temporarily working for the foundation that operates the nonprofit charities my mother helped bring into existence. For which I have no clue how to do, but I’m helping out a dear friend while she goes on hiatus with her dying husband. Who, incidentally, is one of my father’s old law partners.” I took a breath. “Oh, and now Wesley wants me back. It seems it’s over, as well, with the bimbo he left me for and he wants to give it the ol’ college try with me again.”

“Wow.” He seemed stunned, not really moving for a minute or two.

“So, do you mind if I take a shower? I feel really disgusting.” I pulled at my shirt. A puff of stale air wafted from it.

“You don’t have to ask. You know where your room is.”

I threw the blanket back and stood. My back screamed a bit. “Thank you, Tom. Once I get the last few days washed off me, I’ll make more sense.”

“I’m sure you will.”

I found Tom scrambling eggs when I made it back to the kitchen. A plate of buttered toast sat next to the skillet, waiting for the accompaniment of the yellow fluff.

“Tom, what are you doing?”

“Amy, I’m making you breakfast. If I know you the way I think I do, you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

This man had an innate ability to know me. And I liked to think I knew him as well. “So where were you last night? Dinner went on past ten o’clock?” I sat down on the stool. “Must’ve been good.”

He handed me my plate of goodness. Steam lifted from the eggs, and the toast was the perfect shade of tan. I tried not to salivate like an animal before I took the fork he handed me along with it.

“I went to Grady’s. He and his wife always have room at their table for poor bachelors like myself.”

I scooped egg into my mouth and followed it with a bite of bread. The combination was tasty. Salty and sweet. My favorite, blackberry preserves, was lumped on top of the bread. He handed me a bottle of water and took it back to open it first.

“So it was good?”

“Yes, but let’s get back to you. How is it that you technically spent the night with Wesley? How exactly is that accomplished? Where were you that this was even a possibility?”

Right.
I hadn’t really mentioned much about Wesley and his treasure trove of problems. I kept most of my drama contained to Mark and me. I was so engrossed with him moving and leaving me, Wesley had become background noise. Funny how Tom picked up on the fact I slept with him.

“Well, I had to show up at Thanksgiving as his wife so he could get the rest of his trust fund. Then I went to an old friend’s house, got a bit drunk, and Wesley put me to bed…with him.” I put up my hand to clarify. “But not ‘with’ him. Nothing happened.” I finalized the image with air quotes.

Tom seemed confused. I continued on anyway. With all the time I knew I’d be staying there, he’d eventually have all the dots connected.

“And now he wants you back?” He set down his mug and leaned on the counter.

“Yes.”

His eyes looked aimlessly around the room. “So you broke it off with Mark?”

“Yes.” I shoveled in some more egg. Only tiny scraps were left. Too small not to slip through the slats of my fork. If I was alone, I would’ve licked them off the plate with my tongue.