Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (22 page)

“Amy,” he yelled out from the front door.

“Tom, we’re in the kitchen.”

I looked at Kate with a sneaky smile on my face. She stirred the pasta in the pot, wiping one hand on her apron. The house smelled delightful. All bread-rising and chicken baking kind of smells. I was a little disappointed I wasn’t going to partake in the fruits I’d begun with my evil…er, angelic plan. Depending on who you asked, it was a good deed no matter what. Who turns down French loaf bread, baked lemon chicken, all resting on creamy fettuccini alfredo?

He came around the corner and stopped before making it to the oven. I gave all the indication I could with one single look for him not to get upset. My eyes opened fully, suffering from over-drying, and my mouth twisted in a forgive-me kind of way.

“Hey there!” I laid on the friendly hostess jargon. “Doesn’t it smell fabulous in here?”

“It certainly does.” He smiled, but it was one of those fake ones, like my hostess one.

“Hi, Tom. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. Amy thought you’d appreciate not eating from a takeout carton. And fettuccini is my specialty.”

Yeah, now come to think of it, with all that black hair and big, dark eyes, she did resemble a little bit of Italy.

“You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.” He set down his keys on the counter and proceeded to remove his coat.

“It was no trouble at all. Look, I even picked you up a crossword puzzle.” She laid down the spoon beside the boiling pot of water and grabbed a book lying on the counter.

He took it and smiled.
All was progressing better than planned.

“Well, that’s my cue.” I picked up my purse from the barstool.

“Don’t tell me you’re not staying for dinner.” Tom’s frown managed to wrinkle his eyes.

“I have to actually go out for a while.” I said it slowly as it came to my head.

“Nonsense. Kate has enough, I’m sure.” He looked over toward the chef. Her silky hair was pulled back in a blue scarf and it looked as if she came with the kitchen.

Kate gave a half-hearted smile as she prepared her hands with oven mitts to drain the water. “Of course, Amy. You can stay if you want.”

“No, really. I have to go. You all enjoy.”

I walked past Tom, hoping I was home-free. Instead, he followed me to the front door.

“Here, let me help you.”

He held out my coat. I slipped in my arms and felt a little tug inside me.

“Amy, what are you doing?” He whispered it close to my ear. I could smell his faded cologne.

“I’m giving you all a chance to have some time alone, Tom.” I stepped back. Nowadays I couldn’t stand too close to him without a snap to my hormones. “And don’t break her heart. She’s really going out of her comfort zone by showing you she cares.”

I looked up into those full-of-security brown eyes of his.
Gosh, couldn
’
t they just dry up or something? Did they always have to be so come-hither like?
It was easier to ignore them when I was preoccupied with Mark and trying to do the impossible—get him to commit to me. Now that there was no distraction, Tom was like a bull’s-eye.

“I know what that feels like.”

What? What what feels like? Being out of his comfort zone? Was he directing that at me?
I had to get out of here. I was nothing but a disruption for what really needed to happen in this man’s life. Whether he knew it now or not. Sometimes wisdom doesn’t always come with age, Tom McTavish.

“Well, I’ll see you later.” I turned and grabbed the doorknob. When I made it to the other side and had it safely shut, I closed my eyes with my hands and took a deep breath. I knew what I was doing was right.
So why did it feel like the exact opposite?

After trying unsuccessfully to reach Sonja, I ended up in the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant. I kept the car running so I wouldn’t get cold and ate my apple slices and Asian-orange salad. It was definitely not warm chicken nestled in a bed of fettuccini noodles. Oozing with Alfredo sauce. I saw her make it: cream cheese, chicken broth, and a dash of pepper. I salivated during the entire process. Kate did comment on how Tom needed a few more dishes. Give her time; she’d have him completely stocked with whatever she needed to perform those mouth-watering meals.

I tried not to think about them. Tried not to think about how he sometimes puts on his glasses to see his food. Or stretches back in his chair and pats his stomach, indicating just a few more bites before he sets his fork down in the classic ten and two, his knife taking the position of the ten. I love seeing that look of satisfaction on his face when he’s full. He always claims he’s had too much, but I know he’ll eat whatever dessert I got to surprise him with. It’s so nice to be able to take care of him. He needs it so much. He’s such a hard worker. He’s been on his own for so long.
Oh well, that
’
s Kate
’
s job now.
I’ve got other places I need to be. Which told me—
go over to Wesley
’
s
. I’d been putting this off for too long. There was now a change in the plans. I couldn’t be at Tom’s that much anymore. I was pretty sure Wesley wouldn’t care.

I arrived at my old house. I looked at it, feeling something. I didn’t know quite what. Was it nostalgia, regret, or disbelief? When I had packed up my last box, I turned around and told this place good-bye. Now to see the overgrown flower beds, blackened from the frost that had grabbed the un-cut blooms, it made me sad. The house looked sad. A light was on in the living room, but I didn’t feel drawn to it. My life had moved from there.

I mustered up some conviction and got out of my car. It was getting darker by the second and I had a familiar fear of something lurking in the bushes. Luckily they caught the mugger who attacked me. He’s still in jail, awaiting trial. I try to stay abreast of the situation. After he mugged me, two weeks later he shot someone who was in the house he was stealing from. He was expected to continue his stay in prison for a couple of years.
Thank goodness.

I got to the door and didn’t know whether or not to knock. It didn’t seem right to just barge inside, so I did the knocking thing.

Wesley answered the door. He wore a blue striped shirt hanging out of a pair of dress pants. There was a spaghetti stain on the front of it.

“You’ll need to pretreat that stain, Wesley, if you want it to come out.”

“Hi, Amy. What are you doing here?” He moved aside for me to enter.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

He closed the door and kicked some shoes out of the way for me to walk. I did a quick glance around at what I could see. He’d brought down a futon from the spare room and it looked like he was sitting, eating, and sleeping on it inside the living room.

There were chip bags, empty beer bottles, Coke cans, and cereal bowls with curdled milk inside them.
Yikes.
I think living under a bridge would be more appealing. At least it has recycled clean air and grass.

“What happened?”

“What do you mean? I haven’t cleaned today, if that’s what you’re referring to. I worked late again.”

I looked from the mess to him. He had bags underneath his eyes and he seemed paler than I remembered over the weekend.

“Come and sit down.” He went to the futon and cleared away the trash and papers with one single motion.

“Okay.” I held onto my purse, stepped out of my shoes, and walked on the cleared path to the chair. He sat down beside me.

“Want something to drink?” he asked.

“No, thanks. I just had dinner.”

“I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I know. I really didn’t either.”

I looked and saw my poor fern. I must’ve forgotten him when I moved. His foliage was brown and crunchy. It reminded me, I had to make sure to get my plants out of the moving van and water them. Poor things.

“I tried to give it water, but I think it’s dead.” He must’ve seen where I was looking.

“Thanks for trying.”

“Something’s wrong with the washer, too. It keeps stopping and giving me a code.”

“That means you’re putting too much in it.”

“Oh.” He looked at the television. It was new. I forgot, I’d taken that too. Boy, I was in a taking kind of mood that day.

“So, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.”

His head jerked toward me. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Does this mean you’re back?”

Like on a team?

“It means can I stay the night. I’m not sure about tomorrow.”

“Of course you can. You can stay forever if you want.” His weary look had changed into one of hope. I could’ve sworn his cheeks became rosier and some luggage had lifted from underneath his eyes.

“Okay. Well, I don’t have anything with me, so I’ll have to borrow a shirt.”

“They’re all upstairs.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll just straighten up a bit before going to bed.” I took off my coat and began picking up the trash like men do litter on the highways.

“Amy, you shouldn’t spend your first night back cleaning.”

“Wesley, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m just staying the night. It’s not the beginning of anything. Yet.”

“Okay. I’ll take it whatever it is.”

He stood and helped me. I tried to keep busy and not think about Tom wondering where I was. I would text him in an hour and tell him I wouldn’t be home.
Because I was home?
I’m sure the identity crisis of where I saw home would soon end. I hoped it would, at least.

I woke up before Wesley and made it out of the house before he knew I was gone. I refused to sleep in the bedroom, stating I was still confused. I even wore my same outfit because I knew: one, I’d get cold in the night with just his shirt on lying under a flimsy blanket and two, I wanted to make a quick getaway the next morning. I left a note on the refrigerator telling him I’d call him later in the day.
See how he liked a note hanging on that thing.

I had turned off my phone after texting Tom I wouldn’t be home. I couldn’t bear to see his response. And after waiting down the street, watching for him to leave for work, I was resolved he was fine with it. I would pretend his dinner was a success, they had a little peck at the door underneath the mistletoe I hung, and he fell asleep in his chair, gritting his teeth that I didn’t listen and come home like he probably told me in a text I didn’t read. He’d be fine after a day at work. I would plan my strategy that day on what I’d say to him later.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have the day I thought I would. After calling in and telling my boss I would be late, I grabbed a much-needed shower and was putting my hair up in a towel when I heard a knock on the bedroom door. I stopped mid-stride to the closet.

“Who is it?”
Was Marcella, his cleaner, scheduled to come in that day?
I thought she came on Thursdays.

“Tom.”

Holy mother. What was I going to do now?
After not having my phone on all night, I checked it before getting in the shower. Curiosity had me by the throat and I couldn’t take it anymore. He’d texted me back, telling me to come home. It was followed by about ten other “Amy, are you there?” messages.

“Just a second.” I pulled my robe tight and went to answer the door.

He stood there in his three-piece gray suit, baby-blue tie, and smells of seducing atoms drifting my way. I conjured up images of Wesley in his spaghetti-stained shirt to get my mind off Tom.

“Tom, what are you doing here?”

“A better question is what are you doing here? Twelve hours after I texted you to please respond to me.” His weight shifted to one leg while he waited for my answer.

“My phone was off. I’m sorry.” Not a lie.

“Amy, where did you go?”

He walked into the room. Yes, uninvited. His shiny shoes squeaked a little until he made it to the rug.

“I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to give you and Kate some unsupervised time to yourselves.”

He leaned up against the edge of my bed and crossed his feet.

Just how long would this interrogation last?

“About Kate.” He raised his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I will get back to where you went in a second. Kate’s a great lady.”

“Yes, she is. And Tom, she’s really fond of you. You can’t break her heart. Trust me on this.”

He stood up. “No one is breaking anyone’s heart here, Amy. She’s a great lady and I’ve set her straight in what I’m seeking.”

Oh no. This didn
’
t sound good.
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. “What are you seeking?”

“Not anything serious.”

I walked over and couldn’t help but push his chest. “Tom, that’s exactly what you’re looking for.”

He laughed. My jaw hung.
What was so funny?

“Tom!”

“What? Amy, you tickle me when you try to play Cupid. Kate’s a wonderful lady, but I don’t feel anything more than a great friendship with her. She’s like the nice woman at the grocery store who always goes out of her way to go in the back to pull the freshest loaf of bread for me. Nothing more.”