Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (14 page)

“So he’s off to Chicago then?”

“Yes.” I chugged some of my water. My life could be a reality television show. But with very little sex, and almost no fashion, it probably wouldn’t get picked up after the pilot aired.

“This Wesley is the same guy who left you for another woman?” He shifted on his other elbow.

I looked at him and bit my lip. Why does everyone always throw that up in my face? I was there; I’m well aware of his transgressions.

“Yes.” I looked over my nose in a want-to-make-something-of-it look.

“Just keeping it straight.” He walked off to rinse my plate.

“Yes, well, that’s what he’s hoping.” Emphasis on the hoping.

“And how do you feel about him?” He turned his head so I could hear him over the running water.

I took in too much air to be believable that it didn’t cross my mind.

Tom turned around. “Amy…don’t tell me you’re considering it.”

I put my head down on the counter, avoiding his full-of-disdain stare. He was too close by and wearing it all too well.

“I told him I needed time.” I peeked up my head a bit. “But it isn’t likely I can say no. Especially now that we need to man up and take over the law firm. It’s not something only one person of the couple can do alone, you know. It takes two. There’s the parties, the fundraisers, and not to mention the client dinners. Still, I need time by myself to think this through.” I lay back down on my folded arms.

When I didn’t hear a response, I raised my head again. He had walked to the kitchen window and stared outside.

“What? I do need time. I’m definitely not making any decisions as fast as he’d like me to. He wanted me to come home with him last night.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He still wasn’t looking at me.

I couldn’t take his disappointing body language. Didn’t ordinary friends just stand by and let you do stupid things and just stare at you blankly, completely on the fence of whatever made you happy at the time? He was not participating the way he should. Give me some ice cream and say “You go, girl.” Then when it turns out crappy, still hold out that ice cream and call out the jerk for hurting me.

“Tom, you’re not being on my side.”

“What side is that, Amy?” He turned around and I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted him on my side. “If you don’t recall, I was with you all those nights when you cried and felt like a failed wife, like a stupid jerk for not seeing him as he was. Like you were betrayed by Mark when he found Wesley’s mistress without so much as telling you about it before ambushing you in the hospital room with her. Yet you took
him
back. I’m sure you’ll take Wesley back, too. It’s too convenient not to.”

Whoa.
I never saw this side to Tom. What kind of food did they serve at that place last night?
Instead of mad cows, was it mad turkeys?

“Tom, I know I cried on your shoulder. And I told you I’d never be that stupid…and I’m not. This is different. Wesley recognizes how broken we were. It wasn’t all his fault.”

Tom turned around quickly. “Oh, then he wasn’t the guy sleeping with another woman on the weekends and then coming home to you through the week.” He smoothed out his mustache. “Sorry, I guess I’m a bit confused.”

I got up and walked over to where he was standing. “Okay, you know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Obviously you have a very closed mind about him. Furthermore, I’m aware of what happened. We’re different now. Don’t you think we all get second chances? He got what he deserved with her. I don’t think he deserves me throwing sand in his eyes when he’s still kneeling from the beating she gave to him.”

Tom was practically breathing on my neck with how close we stood to one another. I saw him swallow. “You’re right. Just promise me you’ll take it slow.”

I found it weird he was seconds ago flinging grenades and now retreating. But whatever—I’d take the peace. “I promise.”

I turned around to get my water and a card caught my eye on the counter. It was pink, standing out starkly on the dark granite countertop. It was none of my business, but I grabbed it anyway. Hey, he just verbally whipped me for talking nice about my ex-husband. Soon-to-be… whatever.

Tom was pouring himself another cup of coffee and didn’t see me. I was shocked to find it was someone’s phone number. Kate, to be exact. I couldn’t help myself.

“And who is Kate, pray tell?”

He reached for it. “Give me that. What are you doing?”

I handed it over freely. “Well, who is she?”

“Someone who my dear friends invited for dinner last night. I think they had hopes of a love connection.” He slipped the note in his pocket.

“And was it?”

“She was nice.” He almost left tread on the tile with how fast he walked out of the room. I followed.

“Nice? Is that code for ‘I’ll never use that number’?”

“Amy.”

I laughed as I stood next to him staring out the front window. He probably couldn’t even tell me what was out there. He was trying so hard to avoid this little interrogation about Kate.

“Tom. Now I bled about my stupid life and all its new drama. It’s your turn.”

“We have a date for tonight, if you must know.”

Not what I was expecting.
Tom had a date?
I didn’t take this information lightly. He hadn’t been out on a date since we’d become friends. I was the one who’d gone with him to all the charity events, commerce mixers, and office things. And I really didn’t count because we were friends.

“Wow! Tom is going out on a date.”

“I’m canceling.” He turned and went back toward the kitchen.

I continued to follow. I could do this all day. It took the focus off my failed relationships.

“Why would you cancel? Don’t you like her?”

“She’s fine, Amy. It’s just that you’re here now and I’ll go out later with her.”

“I’m here? That’s your reason? Me?” I put my hand to my chest.

He poured the rest of the coffee down the sink and rinsed out the carafe.

“Tom, I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’d beg to differ.”

I gave him a sideways glance. “We’re not going there, remember? Anyway, you need to go out. This might turn into something.”

“She’s just going to give me some names for caterers. It’s not really a date.”

“Caterers?”

“Yes, this year it’s my turn to host the Christmas party and she knows some people.” He made a hand gesture and swatted at the air. “Cheese people, and people with trees and lights.”

“Okay, we’ll get back to that in a minute. Are you serious? She could’ve given you names last night. She wants a little romance, Tom. Go on and show her some.”

He turned and looked dead-straight at me. “Maybe I don’t want to show her romance.”

I wasn’t sure, but I think he put emphasis on “her.” As if there was someone else he wanted to.
How long had it been since we talked? Was there someone else I didn
’
t know about?

“Well, tell me then about this Christmas party.”

“It’s nothing. We have it each year for the employees and clients. And this year it’s my turn to host. That means that I’ll just make a few calls and open my house for the professionals to come and decorate and leave food. The biggest part I’ll have in it is stroking the check for it.”

“Gosh, Ebenezer, at least you pay for it.”

“Ebenezer?”

“Yes. Get a little holiday spirit.” I hit him on the shoulder. “If you want, I’ll help with the platters. That store across town with the cardboard cows in front has the best veggies and dips. And we could throw up some decorations. Don’t you put up a tree, yourself, anyway?”

He looked at me as though I had just changed language on him.

“Not hardly, Amy. Who do I have here to even look at it? I’m gone twelve-hour days sometimes. It’s not worth it.”

I put on my best frowny face. “You’re such a Scrooge.”

“Fine, do you want to get a tree and decorate? Would that paint me as less of a Scrooge?”

My face lit up. “Yes! I love Christmas. Well, I did when I had a home to decorate. This year I’m finding myself kind of homeless.”

“Not anymore. I want you to stay here for the holidays. Show me something I don’t know.”

“Didn’t your ex-wife ever decorate? Or make sugar cookies and the whole house smelled like a bake shop.” I smiled again, almost able to sense the ginger and molasses. “A Christmastime bake shop?”

“She was Jewish.”

“Ah. Well then, I take your invitation and challenge and accept.”

He smiled. It was the first time he’d done so since I told him about Wesley. I needed to avoid that name while I stayed here. After all, I missed that debonair smile on Tom. It was chicken soup to my soul.

“And you’re going out tonight. If I have to drive the car and chauffeur both of you to the restaurant!”

The brightness of his smile turned down a notch, but I was pretty sure he agreed.

“Knock, knock. Can I come in?” I shouted from Tom’s bedroom door.

It was getting late in the evening and I wanted to make sure he wasn’t hiding out and was really going out with Kate. I hadn’t heard any phone conversations with her. He was being particularly hush-hush about the thing.

“Sure, come on in.”

I looked around his room. It was empty, but I was certain I’d heard him. His bed was un-made, but barely messy. The blankets were folded neatly back and his pillow was wrinkled. His cherry-wood valet stood in the corner by the window and his three-piece suit dressed it. Pictures of meaningless art were hung on the walls and a dresser held pocket change, his wallet, and a bust of some type of presidential-looking man. Totally not a woman-sharing space, by any means.

He peeked out from the bathroom. “I’m in here.”

“Are you decent?”

I heard him laugh. “Of course. You can come in.”

I walked warily toward the bathroom.
What was taking him so long?
It was four o’clock. Certainly he had to be leaving soon.

“Are you sure I should go?”

I watched him tie a blue and red tie that was better suited for a court hearing than a candlelight dinner.

“Yes, now stop asking that question.” He had asked it more than twice during the day.

He turned and looked at me. His face was clean-shaven and his hair was slightly damp. I could see the darker color around his ears where he’d missed drying it. The smell of fresh soap still hung in the air.

“Okay, so where are you going to take her…courtroom seven or eight?”

“What are you talking about? We’re going to that place downtown by the theater. Francis, the lady who sat beside us and listened to our entire dinner conversation, suggested it.”

He didn’t pick up on my sarcasm. He was more nervous than I thought.

“Tom, look at me.”

He stopped messing with the knot and looked up. “What’s wrong?”

“Tom, you’re going on a date. Loosen up. Don’t you have a nice pair of jeans? Is there a softer side to your wardrobe, or are all your clothes pressed professionally?”

“Jeans? Amy, you don’t wear jeans on a date.”

“Okay, I’m not sure about the last time you actually went on one, but it’s all right to wear something not dry-cleaned. People wear pajamas to the grocery store nowadays.”

He looked at me with popping eyes. “Now that’s absurd. Pajamas?”

“Not the type you wear, I’m sure. But yes, they wear cartoon characters. It’s crazy.”

“That is crazy, and what do you know about what I wear at night?”

True that. I never saw the guy out of those shirts with those pointy things stuck in the collars. Maybe the night shirts were just as starched, but without the cuff links.

“That new place by the theater is casual dress, Tom. Plus, you wore a tie last night, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just saying wear a nice pair of dark jeans, a buttoned-down shirt and maybe a jacket. Give her the ‘casual Tom’ tonight.”

“Are you serious?”

Okay, that was the green light for me to intervene. Anyway, it wasn’t a definite no. Good thing I was there. She might’ve ordered stuffed mushrooms to go with her stuffed date.

I went to his closet in search of a wardrobe change. He followed me, pulling loose his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. By the time I turned around, he only had on his T-shirt and it was now pulled out from his dress pants. Without all of his dressiness and starch, the closet suddenly felt a tad bit small for two people to be doing inventory. I was staring into his shirt, feeling his breath on my face and smelling his hypnotic cologne. I only came about to his neck in height.

“How about this?” I held out a printed shirt and reached over his head for a pair of jeans I spied at the last minute. I slightly fell against him after losing my balance trying to tiptoe it. He caught me and for a brief second, his hands held onto me with a different feel—a little less rigid, in a formal sort of way. Replacing it was a new, secure “here I am if you need me” kind of way. Even his eyes were saying something…maybe. They were so light and so expressive, as if holding me tighter than his arms were. Forget it, I was crazy—one might even say vulnerable—right now. Maybe it was the intoxicating smell, all that blinding white cotton, or the fact I was rebounding at the speed of light from Mark and running away scared from Wesley. Hitting the well-built, secure, and friends-only wall of Tom was not an option. Even if he was the only thing that made sense in my life.

“Well then, you get started with these.” I handed them over and sprinted out of there like a gazelle with a set of tiger’s teeth in her butt.