Just a Number (45 page)

Like he’s always done whenever I’ve come to him with a problem, he listens with an unbiased ear. He lets me say my piece, relieving my shoulders of the weight I’ve been carrying around all morning, and then I wait in nervous silence for him to say something. I anticipate his reaction based on how he originally felt about my relationship with Owen, and I mentally prepare myself for it.

He sighs again. “Do you really want to know what I think?”

Do I?
I ask myself. I suppose I wouldn’t have poured my heart out to him like that if I didn’t. “Yes?” I still don’t sound sure, though.

“Okay. I’m going to do my best to set my issues with your relationship aside in an attempt to move forward.”

“Of course,” I reply, desperate and nervous to hear what he might have to say.

“Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair, Amy. And that’s under
normal
circumstances. For Owen… His is going to be harder to gain and hold onto, given what Gretchen did to him.” He stops talking for a minute, maybe trying to figure out how to get the rest of his point across. “The fact is, Owen is an old-fashioned guy. We don’t think the same way your generation does—especially after being burned by past relationships. We have a different set of boundaries and expectations of our partners.”

“Okay,” I say, wiping the tears from my cheeks before they dry there.

“Do I think he overreacted when he hit Justin? I wasn’t there, so I can’t say for sure, but I don’t think he was completely unjustified. He saw the woman he is in a committed relationship with—a relationship you both fought so hard for—dancing intimately with another man, and it reminded him of everything he stands to lose. You’ve both been so damn busy running around and trying to defend your relationship to those outside it that you’ve failed to talk about the things that could bring it all crashing down around you.

“In theory, you’ve accepted your age difference—defended it with everything you have—but I think Owen being afraid of losing you to someone far younger than he is, as well as your total lack of consideration for how Owen might feel about last night and how he could compare it to his ex-wife is proof that you haven’t.”

“Dad,” I try to interrupt, feeling conflicted. On one hand, I feel a bit slighted that he isn’t flat-out taking my side, but on the other, I am impressed that he is trying to remain an unbiased third party.

“I’m not finished,” he says, effectively silencing me. “Owen craves consideration after everything Gretchen put him through. He spent years with someone who walked all over him, so I think he’s due.”

His assumption offends me. “I-I consider him.”

“Do you, Ames? I’m not trying to sound mean, but you kicked him out before he could really explain how he feels? Yes, I get that he compared you to Gretchen, and, honey, I know that must have hurt, but did you stop to think about
why
he might have said those things? After everything he’s been through?” I don’t answer, but he knows what my response would be anyway. “His trust isn’t easily earned, and even though what Justin and you did would have never gone further than just dancing, Owen’s state of mind is extremely fragile.”

“I know. I get that now,” I assure him. “I acted hastily when I kicked him out. I know I owe him an opportunity to explain himself.”

“I do want you to know that I don’t think he’s innocent in all of this, either. He acted impulsively, and he hurt my baby girl.”

There’s my daddy.

“But the fact remains that the two of you are—and it took me a while to realize this—
good
for each other. Relationships, they take work…a lot of work. I’d hate to see the two of you throw something you’ve both fought so damn hard for away over one miscommunication.”

I’m floored. Speechless. Is my dad actually supporting our relationship? I guess he’s finally starting to come around.

“Where are you now?” Dad asks.

“At Owen’s. I’m sitting outside his door because I was too chicken to knock, and then you called.”

“If you’re still willing to take my advice, knock. The sooner the two of you talk things through, the better. Believe me. You don’t want this to sit and fester for too long. You both have a lot of explaining to do, and apologies to give one another. Just remember, the man you saw last night isn’t Owen—deep down, you know that. You’ve known him your whole life. I’m not making excuses for him, and believe me, I’ll be making him answer for the things he said to you, but he’s been under a lot of stress and his bad mood was likely only made worse when he saw you dancing. That being said, you still need to stand up for yourself.” His advice is kind of conflicting, which I get given he’s got stakes on both sides of this relationship, but I’m pretty sure I can make sense of it all.

Before I can say goodbye or thank my dad for listening and offering me his sage advice, I hear footsteps to my right. Looking up, I find Owen, keys in hand and eyes on me, shock clearly written across his face. “Daddy, I have to go. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Ames. Call me if you need anything else, okay? I love you.”

“Love you, too.” I hang up my phone and push myself to my feet. Owen and I stare at each other for a few seconds before he takes the last few steps. He slips the key into the lock and nods toward his apartment, silently inviting me inside.

A cloud of dread builds like a storm in my belly, causing the coffee I’d had on my way here to churn and crash around like tidal waves. With a deep breath, I steel my resolve and follow him.

33. Fight Song

I
t takes me about fifteen minutes to decide what to do or where to go after leaving Amelia’s apartment. I replay our argument over and over again in my head, trying to figure out where everything went wrong.

I’m guessing it was somewhere between my accusing her of acting like a child and comparing what she had done to my ex-wife… Of course, it was my telling her I couldn’t trust her that broke the camel’s back. I’m ashamed that I let my anger get the best of me. Do I really believe the things I said? I guess on some level, a modicum of truth always comes out in the heat of the moment, but I didn’t
mean
any of it.

Yes, her refusal to listen was childish, but I realize I acted no better both this morning and the night before. In the end, I can’t blame Amelia for not wanting to listen to my excuses—because that’s all they are: excuses—but I would have liked the opportunity to calmly sit and explain myself without both of us blowing it all up.

The entire drive, I stew in my misery. I continue to obsess over the specifics of our argument. There were faults on both of us, but I admit I overreacted the night before. And I was a complete asshole before she threw me out. She was right; I should have asked for an explanation instead of just flying off the handle the way I did, and I never should have said the things I did. I see that now.

On the flip side, she should understand that dancing like that isn’t okay. Regardless of her partner’s sexual orientation, it was disrespectful to our relationship. And that’s not just me being an old fuddy-duddy.

I want to call her, but it’s possible she’ll either hang up on me or not answer at all. I know I need to wait for her to make the next move. After everything that has happened, I owe her that much. We both just need some time to gain a little perspective, and even though I hate it, I have to stay strong. I have to figure out my own issues if I want this to work…if it even can work after this. What if we’ve just destroyed everything we’ve fought so hard for?

I know I need to talk to somebody about all of this, but the first person who comes to mind is the last person who’s going to take my side: Alan. Any time I had a fight with Gretchen in the past, I could count on him to hear the entire story—right down to what I had said to her—and he’d be on my side, telling me she deserved it. Something tells me he’ll either punch me or shoot me if I confess to him the things I said to his daughter in the heat of the moment.

So, that’s out. Even though I’m not in the mood to hear a chorus line of “I told you sos,” I decide to call my sister. She’s always been a good listener, even if she does tend to remind me of my stupidity from time to time. Most of the time, she’s not wrong.

Pulling the car into the nearest parking lot, I grab my cellphone and call my sister. While I know I am in for a lengthy lecture, I also know Julia is the right person to tell me exactly how much of a prick I’d been. I already know I have some shit to work through on my end before I can hear Amelia out. I need some much-needed advice from a third party who isn’t as directly involved as everybody else.

“Hello?” Julia sings into the phone.

I clear my throat, trying to keep the tone steady, keep the upset from my voice. “Hey, Jules.”

“Oh, God,” she whispers. “What’s wrong?” She’s always been able to see through my bullshit.

“Can I come over?” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair nervously as I replay the fight with Amelia in my head. I go over what I’m going to tell Amelia when we do talk. I will admit to my insecurities and promise her that I am seeking help on how to overcome it. I remember how she claimed I was unrecognizable when I attacked Justin, and she’s right. I had become someone I didn’t want to be, and it had frightened her. That’s not something I ever want to happen again, and I know it stems back to what happened with Gretchen. I saw red and reacted, and I know now that’s not right, nor is it healthy. That’s not the man I want to be, and it’s not the man Amelia deserves.

 “I really need to talk.”

Julia stammers for a minute. “Uh, y-yeah, of course. Come right over. I’ll just change out of my gym clothes.”

“I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“See you soon,” she says softly. “Drive safe.”

We hang up, and I pull back onto the street to head over to my sister’s apartment.

When I arrive, Jules buzzes me into the building, and I head upstairs. I’ve barely lifted my hand to knock when she opens the door, her eyes searching mine for answers. I let my gaze shift behind her, finding Stephen standing in the hall.

He nods once. “You going to let him in, sweetheart?”

Jules shakes her head. “Oh, right. Duh.”

I step inside and take off my jacket, hanging it in the hall closet.

“Coffee?” Stephen offers, and I accept silently as we walk into the kitchen. Jules and I sit at the small table, and Stephen joins us, placing my coffee in front of me.

I stare into the cup, watching the few bubbles pop as the coffee settles. The room is silent, but only for a moment before my sister breaks it.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or were you waiting for me to ask?” she inquires gently.

“I was…trying to figure out where to start.”

“Is it about Amy? Is she okay?”

“Amelia is fine,” I assure her.

Julia’s eyes narrow, and she tilts her head to the left. “Then why do you look like someone’s just kicked your puppy?”

“I don’t have a puppy, Jules,” I say with an aggravated sigh.

“I know that, dummy. It’s a metaphor.”

“It’s pretty twisted.”

Julia groans, slapping her palms on the smooth oak tabletop. “You’re avoiding the issue, Owen. What’s going on?”

Nervous, I lean forward and rest my forearms on the table, preparing for this inevitable conversation. Keeping my focus on the intricate wood grain, I confess what happened the night before. Julia and Stephen listen intently the entire time, even letting me get through the argument we had this morning, too.

When I finish, Julia slumps back in her seat, crossing her arms in front of her and biting the inside of her cheek contemplatively. She’s silent for a moment as she assesses the situation, when, finally, she nods. “Look, Owen, your actions, while rash, are completely understandable. You just learned that your wife was cheating on you, so of course you jumped to conclusions. Most men would.”

“Right, but that’s not the kind of man I want to be, Jules. It’s not the kind of man Amelia deserves. Because of what Gretchen did, I’m insecure. Even though I know Amelia has never been unfaithful to her past partners, I can’t seem to give her my trust. It isn’t fair to her for me to constantly be on edge, wondering where she is and who she might be with.”

“Acknowledging the problem is the first step in fixing it,” Stephen speaks up, sounding more like my old therapist than my brother-in-law. “What happened to you when you saw the two of them dancing together?”

My hands shake just thinking about it. I clench them tightly in front of me to keep a lid on my simmering rage, and I take a deep breath to calm my pounding heart. “All I could think about was what Gretchen did to me, and that I refused to let it happen again. And after I hit him, the look in Amelia’s eyes was…well, it instantly sobered me and broke my heart.” My stomach rolled as I remembered what she’d told me before kicking me out of her apartment. “She said she didn’t recognize me and that it frightened her. I can’t go there again. I won’t, but I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore.”

“It’s going to take some time, and some honesty and communication on both your parts to get you to that point.” Julia reaches over and places her hand on mine before turning the focus to Amelia’s side of things.