Just a Number (46 page)

“Obviously, it’s not fair of me to just assume where she might have been coming from, but you should know I see both sides of this,” Jules confesses nervously. “You reacted to something you saw in the only way you knew how in that moment, given your history, and Amelia reacted to that. She had been drinking, meaning her emotions were amplified. Though she might not have been capable of seeing your side of things in her inebriated state, she’s not entirely unjustified.”

“I get that,” I assure them both. “I don’t blame her for acting the way she did or for the things she said.”

“However…?” Julia interjects with raised eyebrows.

Finding a way to explain what I’m thinking isn’t easy, but I try to put it into words. “I want her to understand why I felt my actions were justified. She doesn’t seem to think that what she did was disrespectful to our relationship.”

“Well, did you tell her that? Like I said, communication is going to help her understand and you to trust her more readily. Every relationship has different boundaries. Perhaps Amy was just unclear as to where yours were.”

“I tried. I really did, but she didn’t want to hear it. She kept shutting me down.” Frustrated, I thrust my fingers through my hair. “I don’t even know if she’ll ever talk to me again, anyway. I said some pretty awful things to her…even going so far as to compare what she was doing to what Gretchen had done.”

“That’s pretty serious,” Stephen says, sounding shocked.

“I might have also accused her of acting like a child.”

“Which brings me to my next concern…” Julia pauses, biting the inside of her lip, hesitant to continue. “This age gap… It’s nearly half your age, and twice hers, correct?” I nod. “And you can’t see this as being an issue? Not now or even in the future?”

I shrug, knowing that my love for Amelia is true, and that we entered into this relationship knowing that it might be trying at times. “Not at first, no.”

“But now?” Julia prods further. “How are you feeling about it now?”

“Jules, I love her.”

“And I get that—I do. But…is love enough to break the age barrier?”

I think about her question, and I realize that I want love to be enough. I want it so badly that I’m willing to do whatever I have to. “I want this to work, Jules. Yes, when we first entered into this relationship, it was just about having fun—nothing more. But feelings grew. I love her. I love the person she’s brought out in me. Age…it’s just a number, and when I kiss her…none of that matters.”

“So, your plans for the future are what?”

“We haven’t really discussed it. I’m fresh out of a divorce and it’s still pretty early in the relationship to get into tha—”

“Is it, though?” she demands. “Yeah, it’s only been several weeks, but you’re forty-three. You want children, don’t you? Wasn’t that something you and Gretchen were trying to work through over a year ago? It was one of the main signs of discord between the two of you for a long time.”

Exhaling slowly, I focus on what she’s saying. She’s not wrong; Gretchen and I had been trying to get pregnant last year. We stopped as soon as she stopped going to therapy, thankfully, or I’d probably be anchored to her for another eighteen years.

“We haven’t discussed having a family.”

“But it’s something you still want, right?”

This particular line of questioning is starting to piss me off, and I can feel my irritation spiking rapidly by the second. I want to storm out of here, but, deep down, I know she’s right. I do want children, and while I would love for them to be with Amelia, she’s just finishing college and starting off in life. How had neither of us thought about this before?

“Owen?”

Snapping back to reality, I look at Julia. “Yeah. It’s still something I want, but I’m in no rush.”

“So, you’d be happy to wait ten years for Amelia to be settled in her life and ready to take that step? You’d be fifty-three.”

I think about this and come to the realization that I actually
would
be okay with that scenario. I would wait for as many years as it took if it meant Amelia and I were still together and planning a family. “I would,” I tell them. “She’s worth the wait.”

“I’m sure she is,” Julia said with a smile. “Look, I’m not bringing all of this up to convince you to walk away—I’ve noticed the differences in both of you. But these are questions that most people don’t think of so early on in a relationship. They learn them as they go… But with the age difference, it’s something that both of you need to think of before you get in too deep.” Julia locks eyes with me. “You need to talk to her about this, and you need to figure out where she stands. If you’re going to continue seeing each other, I think that couples counseling might be a good idea. To help you communicate better and so she can see your side of things, and you hers.”

My head bobs up and down. “Yeah, that would be something to think about.” I stand up, Julia and Stephen following suit. “Thanks, Jules. This helped.” I pull her into a tight hug.

“Who am I, if not your voice of reason?” she jokes.

“I should head home. Clean myself up and try to get a hold of Amelia.”

After saying goodbye and thanking them both again, I head for home. While I know I still have a long way to go, I feel I’m a little better prepared to talk with Amelia when the two of us are ready to take that step. I hope it’ll be soon, but I plan to give her all the space she needs.

An hour and a half has passed since I left Amelia’s place, and I’m still unsure how to go about opening the lines of communication between us. Texting her is too impersonal, and if I call her, she’s likely to either hang up on me or not answer at all. Deep down, I know I should wait for her to make the next move. After everything that has happened, I owe her that much, so I decide to grab a quick shower and wait the storm out.

I know that I won’t be able to cleanse the last ten hours away, but it’s either that or drown my feelings in that expensive bottle of whiskey in my liquor cabinet just to gain some courage.

When I step off the elevator, I hear a muffled voice. Then it stops. I’m either hearing things, or someone on my floor is being exceptionally loud on a Saturday morning.

The moment I round the corner and head for my door, I hear the voice again. It’s a little clearer now, and distinctly female. More than that, I swear it’s Amelia. I glance up, only to find her sitting on the floor outside my door, her back pressed to the wall and her phone held up to her ear. Our eyes meet, and I can only hope I convey just how sorry I am for everything—last night, this morning. All of it.

 “Daddy, I have to go. Thank you.”

Fuck me. Her dad knows. I’m probably going to have to hire a security team to keep him from killing me. Fantastic.

 “Love you, too.” She hangs up her phone and climbs to her feet.

We stand there for a couple minutes, our silence thick and awkward. Finally, I nod toward my apartment, and she follows me inside.

“Please, come in,” I tell her gently, running my fingers through my wet hair. “Make yourself at home. I just need to change.” Truthfully, I don’t have to change, but her being here unexpectedly has caught me off guard, and I need a minute to compose myself and figure out what it is I need to say.

“Sure. Yeah. Thanks,” she mumbles softly, her hands still clenched together, eyebrows furrowed. I can’t get a read on her, and it frustrates me.

I leave her for a moment, hurrying down the hall to my room to put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. When I return, I find her in the living room, sitting on the sofa. She looks tense, and I don’t blame her; I’m not even sure how to start the conversation we need to have.

Still unable to read her, I decide to keep a little space between us, leaning against the island bar that separates my kitchen and living room. We remain silent for a few minutes, both of us unsure of what to say as we stare at each other and then around the room.

“So, you talked to Alan?”

Her eyebrows pull together as she drops her eyes to her clasped hands. “He, uh, he called to see how everything was going. At first, I thought maybe you’d talked to him.”

“I didn’t,” I assure her.

With a nod, she raises her gaze to me. “I know. I did, though. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve always gone to him about this sort of thing. He was the first person I wanted to call after I left your place.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asks, her voice soft and sweet, yet also sad.

“You know why.” I try to keep a neutral expression, but deep down, it hurts, knowing that I couldn’t turn to my best friend like I used to.

Another beat of silence fills the room. Finally, Amelia exhales, her posture relaxing slightly as she tucks her hair behind her ears. “Look, originally I came here to apologize, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I shouldn’t have to. Not right away, anyway.” A pause. I want to respond, but I can sense she’s not quite finished, and I owe her the opportunity to continue. I’ll get my chance. “I understand why you did what you did,” she says. “But…” She takes a deep breath when her voice wavers. “The things you said? I’ve never known you to be so hurtful…not even to Gretchen.”

I didn’t think I could feel guiltier about my earlier word vomit, but soon it’s all that consumes me. It weighs on me like a ton of bricks, and I can’t seem to lessen the load. “Amelia, I…”

“No,” she interrupts, shaking her head and sniffling as she holds her tears back. I can tell just by looking at her that she’s cried recently, and it breaks my heart. I yearn to hold her. “You hurt me—like, really hurt me—and while I’m sorry that my actions last night upset you, I won’t apologize for standing up for myself and asking you to leave this morning. I didn’t come here to beg your forgiveness, only to tell you that I get why you reacted the way you did.”

Her confession stuns me into silence, and while my guilt refuses to relent, my respect for Amelia grows. Even though I’m nervous I might say something else that will piss her off, I have to try and make things right. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry for the things I said or implied earlier.”

“There was no implication, Owen,” she counters, sounding adamant. “You told me I haven’t earned your trust. You called me a petulant child.”

Having my words thrown back at me stings, but I can’t blame her for doing it; I was an ass. I need to own it…but at the same time, she needs to know why I said what I did. “Amelia, I don’t view you as a child—far from it. You’re so far beyond your years, which is probably why it’s so easy to be with you…”

“But?” she interjects, sensing where the conversation is going.

I sigh. “Truthfully, you put yourself at risk last night. You drank beyond your limit, for whatever reason, and you gave no consideration to me or our relationship by partying like that.”

Defensiveness flares up in her eyes, but she maintains reasonable composure. “Okay. Now, by saying this, I’m assuming you’ve never—not even once—gotten a little carried away while drinking with friends…to the point of doing something you initially weren’t proud of? Recently, even?”

I pick up on her meaning immediately and find myself stammering. “I-I… Well, yes. If I’m being entirely honest, I have.” I pause briefly, trying to find out how to help her understand why what happened with us that night we accidentally wound up in bed together and last night is like comparing apples to oranges.

“I get that what happened between us isn’t the same as what I did with Justin—I do—but my point is that, while I definitely drank too much, I didn’t do it with the intention of putting myself at risk for such behavior.” She sighs, looking down at the floor. “I did it to try and put the fact that you weren’t coming out of my mind. Was it careless? Absolutely. Was it intentional? No. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d had to drink. I simply lost track. I didn’t do it to hurt or punish you in some way. It was wrong and a little…childish.” She says the last word with shame in her voice as she raises her eyes to me.

I offer her a small smile, appreciating that she opened up like that. “Fair enough,” I reply, trying to find a way to casually segue back to the original topic. “Your refusal to listen to me this morning upset me. You kept shutting me down and telling me
I
was the bad guy. You wouldn’t let me try to plead my case. You just bulldozed over me and kicked me out. It was that specific behavior that prompted what I said—and even then I only asked you to stop
acting
like a petulant child. I never called you one.”

“Semantics, Owen.”

I acquiesce. “You’re right. Regardless of how I phrased it, it never should have happened. But, the truth of the matter is, it did. What I want to know is: why are you so sensitive about it?”

Amelia bites down on her lower lip and cracks her knuckles nervously. It takes her a minute, but eventually she opens up. “Because I
am
a child, Owen.”

“What?”

Sighing, she rakes her fingers through her hair. “I’m half your age. To everyone
your
age, I am a child. Even my dad treats me like a child most of the time.”

“No,” I argue. “He treats you like
his
child. There’s a big difference there.”

“But it doesn’t feel different. Regardless of how often I brush it off, I’m always aware of it, so to have it thrown back in my face hurt.”

I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that. I want to pull her into my arms. I want to kiss away any hurt I caused her this morning, but I know we still have so much to discuss before we get there.

 “I want you to know,” she continues, looking disappointed that I haven’t said anything in response to her confession, “that I wouldn’t have danced with just anyone like that. I was drunk, and it was only Justin. If a straight man would have asked me to dance, I’d have turned him away…in fact, I did turn a few guys down, because I didn’t want to dance with anyone but you.” Her eyes hold mine, eyebrows raised with hope. “I love
you.
”

I can’t help myself from asking, “Then why?”

Her eyes fall to her hands in her lap, and she shrugs. “Like I said, I’d had too much to drink, and while I realize that’s no excuse, it’s all I have. I was upset that you wouldn’t be there, and Justin was trying to cheer me up. He thought dancing was the best way to do that.”