Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (24 page)

When I was all dry, I opened the vanity drawer to pull out my gown. To my shock, it was empty.
Darn that Marcella!
I had to remind myself that she was a very nice lady—quiet and polite. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, but boy did she have a way with playing Marco Polo with your things. The only thing was, she was never around to yell Polo and tell you where they were.

I wrapped the towel around me and went in search of my underwear and gown in my bedroom. All I could find was a camisole and a pair of silky underwear—my emergency pair for when my cotton ones were all dirty. Ashley had given them to me one year for my birthday. It came as a set with an expensive bra. I couldn’t even tell you where the bra was. The lace scratched me to death and it pinched the sides of my boobs.

I pulled the rose-colored underwear out and shimmied into the top. I hoped I didn’t freeze in this thing tonight. I looked to the nightstand for my water bottle. I was certain I’d brought it upstairs with me. I had a bit of indigestion from dinner and needed to drink before bed. I peered around the room, trying to recollect where it was. I shut my eyes and remembered I’d drank it and thrown the bottle away.
Crap!

I looked around the room for something to put around me so I could go downstairs and get one from the fridge. All there was was my dirty outfit I’d worn that day. It was on the floor. I went to the dresser and opened the drawers. All that was in there were little shirts and sweaters for work.
How long would it take, anyway, to run down and grab a bottle of water?
I went to my door and cracked it open, listening for Tom. Whether I heard anything. Nothing but that noisy clock in the foyer.
Tick-tock, tick-tock.
The noise ricocheted on the marble floor.

On tiptoes, I scampered down the stairs and headed for the kitchen.
Good, no lights were on.
I accidently stubbed my toe on one of the barstools that wasn’t pushed in. A small curse exited my mouth as I headed for the refrigerator. I hoped Marcella had bought more water. Yes, she also did Tom’s grocery shopping. He’d leave a list on the counter, and she’d pick up the essentials. Easy peasy. She was quite handy for some things. I’d miss her next month when I’d have to go push a cart around Whole Foods.

I was partaking in one of the majestic bottles of spring water, packaged in the Alps—or someone’s backyard spigot, depending on how cynical you were—and suddenly a pair of naked feet stood beneath the opened door. I’d seen those feet before. And that’s when I closed my eyes and wished it was a dream. That I wasn’t caught in the kitchen, wearing nothing but the reserve panties and a braless camisole. White and see-through to boot.
Kill me now.

“Hungry?” asked the pair of legs.

I kept the door ajar. If I didn’t see him, he didn’t see me. I could save this humiliation and dart out of there very fast—at the speed of light. Or the speed of rose-colored underwear.

“No, just getting some water.” My heart jumped.

“Can you grab me the iced coffee?” he asked as I maintained my position behind the door.

“Tom, you know that will keep you up tonight.”

I swear, that man needed a keeper.
The last time he drank that Starbucks drink he didn’t sleep a wink. He binge-watched
Scandal
instead.

“Amy, just hand me a bottle, please.”

I handed it to him and pushed the door shut.
That was it; what was his problem anyway?

“Tom, exactly what’s wrong with you? You haven’t really spoken to me for a few days, you’re gone when I wake up, you come home late…what gives?”

By this time, I stop my rant and see that he’s staring at me.
What? Did I have something on my face? Lotion from that anti-wrinkle cream I
’
ve been trying out? Oh no!
I closed my eyes, remembering what I had on my body. Barely anything. Evidently my irritation with him had trumped my memory of wardrobe.

I shrunk, cowering over and putting the bottle of water over my chest.
Yeah, that helped.
I crossed my other arm over my stomach and grabbed hold of my hip.
All righty then. Practically nude girl sounding off.

He cleared his throat—his eyes never left mine. “I thought this was what you wanted. I thought you wanted me to seem uninterested, unaffected by you. That way you wouldn’t run off and stay the night with him just to prove you felt nothing for me.” He stepped closer. “Because I know I’m not imagining this, Amy. You do feel something for me.”

What?
I just wanted him to fall madly in love with Kate and live happily ever after, so that I could go back with Wesley and whatever.
All right, who was I kidding?
Yes, I had feelings for this guy. I just didn’t want him to reciprocate. Kind of like when you have a crush on a boy band member. And hang posters in your room. It’s not as if he’s ever going to visit your house and tell you he’s been feeling the same way. I needed Tom to be a poster in my head. There was no way I could or should act on the crazy feelings I was having for him. It was a boy band impossibility.

“I wanted you to try it out with Kate.”

“I did.”

“Oh, you did? You really tried? You only ate with her twice. Who knows what kind of person they are over two meals? She might’ve had a headache and wasn’t giving it her all.”

“A person knows almost instantly, Amy. It wasn’t there.”

Still hunched over and trying desperately to seem authoritative in my underwear, I spouted off some more. “You didn’t even give her a fair shake.”

“How can I when I’m crazy about someone else?”

Naked! Naked girl, here!
I’d never felt so vulnerable. Not only half-dressed, but he’d just single-handedly peeled away my shield. You know, the one that deflected Tom’s-a-hunk kind of things. Telling me he was into someone else, possibly implying me, and then accusing me of the same thing. I became a weakened vessel of mush.
Keep it together.

“Tom…”

He put his hand on my shoulder…my very un-clothed shoulder. My heart was in freak mode—persistent drumrolls blared out inside me. I stepped back. At least I thought I did. He stepped closer. I put my hand to his chest.

“I need you to be happy for me, Tom. I need you to support me in what I’m going to do. I’d die if I didn’t have your support.”

“Amy, you always have my support. It’s just that I know he cheated on you, and you deserve better.”

I tried to control my eye roll and heavy sigh. “I know. But everyone deserves a second chance, and it’s not just Wesley and my relationship at stake here. It’s my father’s law firm. I can’t let his legacy go down in flames. This is my time to see it prosper.” I playfully pushed his arm and smiled, trying to disarm the look of lust from his eyes. “I want to be able to continue like we have been. You know, I do something stupid and then come to you, and you take me to get an empowering tattoo. Or something like that. By the way, my powers aren’t really kicking in yet—yours?”
Keeping it light and airy. To match my outfit.

He retreated. “Amy, it’s very difficult to continue being around you and pretending that I don’t feel more for you than just friendship.”

I looked down. A shroud of despair cloaked my soul. I couldn’t go through life without Tom. Why did that line have to be crossed? Why was I caught here in his kitchen, half-dressed, with him in his sexy pajamas, confessing he wanted more than friendship from me?
Where did you go, denial? Blissful stupidity, are you somewhere around here? Or did Marcella take and hide you, too?

He closed his eyes as he continued. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance, Amy.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t go with you tomorrow night.”

“I want you to go. I promise I’ll be all right by then. I’m merely having a moment right now. I’m sure it will pass.”

Who just pooped on the party? I did; I did.
Poor Tom. Suffering in silence. Well, if it helped, I was suffering, too. I just couldn’t tell him. He’d make me do something about it. And Lord knows, that was an impossibility.

“I better get to bed. I…” I looked down; I didn’t know what to say.
I what? Had to get up early? Had to get some clothes on?
The sad truth was that I just had to leave the room. Leave before I’d admit to something that I couldn’t take back.

“Sleep well, Amy.” His voice was low and sure.

I clutched my water that I suddenly no longer wanted and walked out. It would be a long night, indeed.

I left the house before Tom came down for breakfast. I couldn’t talk anymore to him about us. It was what it was—nothing. And if I intended to keep him, that’s what it had to be.

“Tom,” I yelled as I entered his house later that afternoon.

I’d spent the day Christmas shopping. Retail therapy was the best. I’d picked up something for Sonja, a little collector wrestling figurine for Wesley, and a new tie for Tom. The one thing I neglected to buy was a dress for tonight. I’d hoped Tom found the key to the moving and storage van so I could go out and get it.

“Tom,” I yelled one more time.

The house was quiet. I couldn’t remember whether I’d seen his car or not in the driveway. I hustled up the stairs with my purchases and on my bed was a large box. On top of it was a red ribbon. The card attached had my name beautifully written. I placed everything I had on the floor and pulled the card open.

For you. No strings attached. Pick you up at 6.
–
Tom

I felt like a princess.
What was in the box?
I tore into it and neatly packaged, lying on a bed of white tissue paper, was a gorgeous red dress. Nothing fancy, just the most elegant thing I’d ever seen. Like in
People
magazine—one of the ones a famous person wears and then spins around for the camera to take a picture. I pulled it out and hugged it tight.
How sweet. How completely sweet and gentleman-like.
I’d go and shower and be ready for him. No strings attached—I had it in writing. Just a good, old like-it-was-before time. Amy and Tom: friends forever.

I was finishing up with my hair when I heard the doorbell ring. I’d checked a few minutes ago and still no Tom.
Who was at the door now?
I slipped on the absolutely gorgeous dress I’d laid out on the bed, and ran downstairs. I peeked through the sidelight on the door before opening it. A blurry black-and-white figure is all I could make out. I pulled the door opened and stood there, speechless.

“Amy, you look…you look…like a vision,” he said.

I still had a stop sign lodged both in my brain and in the middle of my throat. Nothing was processing at the moment except the most honest thoughts. They twinkled inside me like Chinese lanterns, with all the heat of the sun melting my core. This man looked like a delectable thing to behold. His hair was combed in a neat part on the side, his cheeks shimmered with fresh aftershave cologne, and the tuxedo he wore strummed my sensory nerves. All fitting and starched, looking like a groom you’d love to be the one to say “I do” to. Lest we fail to mention the smells of this Adonis wafting in with the afternoon breeze. The cleanest, manliest smell—why, it almost had me thinking naughty thoughts, with the way it cast a drunken spell on my cognitive thinking skills. I had to clear my throat to help bring me out of the Tom-induced coma.

“Um, you look…fabulous. I mean debonair. No, handsome.”

He laughed, therefore letting me off the hook of shooting out more words for freaking awesome.

“Where have you been?” I looked outside and saw his car parked by the door in the circle driveway.

“I had a racquetball match a little earlier and just took my tux there to get ready. I was kind of hoping for this effect of picking you up at the door and seeing you all dressed and ready.” He put his hands in his pockets and swayed like a nervous teenager. “You know, not hang around your bedroom door and see your hair in curlers. I wanted a porch greeting.”

“Well, it certainly worked. I was almost speechless.”
And still tingly.

“Shall we?” He held out his bent arm to have me interlace mine with it.

I grabbed my clutch by the foyer table and proceeded out with him.

By the time we arrived at the party, I’d had time to control the knocking of my knees. I don’t remember ever being out with someone who had this much charisma. It was from a different era. Tom was a man. Not a guy who was playing dress up. Not a boy who fussed because his bowtie was strangling his neck. This was a bona fide gentleman. Even his stature made me pinch myself to think I was really the one on the other side of his arm.

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked as we walked into the building.

“No. Have you?”

“No. Let’s grab some food before we get wrestled into all the social mumbo jumbo.”

“Who did you play racquetball with today?”

I’d known Tom to go to the gym, but to play with someone else? And the last time he’d gone to the gym was over the summer when I was with Mark.