Just a Number (35 page)

Dad smirks, reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving the phone I got him for Christmas. “You know, this thing is pretty neat. It’s got this
‘Friend Finder’
thing that can locate my contacts. Technology, huh?”

Laughing lightly, I shrug. “Yeah, who knew.”

That awkwardness briefly falls over us again before Dad speaks. “Did you mean what you said? You love him?”

I swallow a painful lump in my throat, and it falls like a lead weight into my increasingly nauseous belly. “I do,” I tell him softly. “I don’t know what our future holds, Dad, but what I do know is that he’s all I see when I look into it. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been, and I think I do the same for him… Which is why it kills us that we’ve managed to hurt the one person that means the world to both of us.”

“Amy…”

“He thinks you hate him,” I tell him point-blank. “It’s unbearable for me to see him like this…to see both of you like this.” He remains quiet, and I can see that Owen’s assumption is far from true, but I still want confirmation. “Is he right? Are you ready to throw in the towel after thirty years of friendship?”

Dad thrusts his fingers through his hair and then drags his hands over his face. “Jesus, Ames,” he mumbles behind his hands. “Of course I don’t
hate
him. I’m pissed off, sure, but I don’t hate him…or you. I could never begrudge either one of you your happiness.” He looks at me, his anger finally leaving his eyes. “Even if that means you’ve found it with each other.”

It’s a small step toward victory, and I accept it with open arms.

“I would never ask you to leave him,” Dad continues, making my eyes warm with tears again. “Not even at the risk of my own happiness. As your father, all I want is for you to be happy. I’ve been a selfish prick these last couple days, and I refuse to continue on down that path.”

I open my mouth to say something, but he shakes his head and continues. “I’m still hurt about being kept in the dark, so all I ask is that you both just give me time to sort everything out in my head. Can you do that?”

I wipe the few tears that have fallen and nod, a stupid smile spreading across my face. Hope shines brightly overhead, and I welcome its warmth. “Y-yeah,” I stammer, “we can do that.”

Dad smiles and places his hands on his thighs. “Good.” He hesitates a moment, looking around for a minute. “Well, I, uh, should probably head home. Carla’s probably wondering where I am.”

Understanding this is his way of getting space to think about everything we’ve talked about, I agree. “Yeah. Me too, actually. I should get on the highway before sunset, anyway.”

“Good thinking.”

We both stand at the same time, our chair legs scraping across the scuffed diner floor, and I move forward at the same time he does. Normally, hugging my father isn’t so awkward, but given everything that’s happened, I suppose this is to be expected.

He reaches out, wrapping his arms around me, and the minute I’m against his chest, I wind my arms around his waist and settle in. He rests his cheek on the top of my head, and I feel his exhaled breath as it weaves through my hair. I squeeze him just a little bit tighter, because just an hour ago, I was afraid that a moment like this might never happen again. I’m grateful that we’d been given this opportunity to talk.

I hold back a few more tears—of happiness this time—and he finally loosens his grip on me. I swear I hear him sniffle, and when I look up, I see that his eyes are also glistening and slightly red. “Drive safe, Amy.”

“I will, Dad,” I assure him, slowly removing my arms from around his waist.

Before he turns and leaves, he leans forward and kisses my forehead lightly. “I love you, Amy. I just…”

I sigh. “Need time. I know.”

Nodding once, he smiles as he drops enough cash to cover my meal and his coffee onto the table and turns to go. All the while, I stand there in the middle of the diner, watching as he gets into his vehicle and pulls out of the lot. Once his taillights are out of my line of vision, I reach for my purse and jacket and head for home.

Owen will want to know everything that happened, and I’m hoping that hearing what my dad had to say about their friendship being salvageable will make him feel better. Even if only a little.

The drive back to the city is a much more relaxed experience than the one here. While not everything has been settled between the three of us, I can feel the hope starting to break through the clouds of anxiety that have been hovering over me.

I’m excited to be returning to Owen’s condo and can’t park his car fast enough before rushing to the elevator. Naturally, because I’m anxious to see him, the elevator moves slower than molasses. I think he’ll be happy to hear that visiting with my dad was…well, terrifying at first, but it was definitely what was needed to get us one step closer to a resolution.

Dad and Owen will still have a lot of work to do to get even close to where their relationship was before all of this happened, but I’m more confident now that this is an attainable goal.

I slip my keys into the locks and disengage them before letting myself into Owen’s condo. He’s there almost immediately to greet me, coming from the living room where I assume he’s been watching television.

“You’re back,” he says quietly, pulling me into his arms and lifting me off the ground. He presses a soft kiss to the side of my neck before releasing me.

“I am, and I’m so happy to be,” I reply, letting my hands slide down his chest, my fingers curling into his shirt. I’m about to step up onto my toes to give him a proper kiss after being apart for the day when I see a nervousness in his eyes that I can’t explain.

Before I can ask him what’s wrong, though, I hear footsteps coming from the living room behind him before a woman says my name. Slowly, I lean to the left to peer around Owen’s body, and my mouth drops as my eyes widen in surprise.

25. Through the Grapevine

M
aking Amelia go see her dad is what’s best. I hate that I’m not going with her, and a part of me does believe that showing a united front might make Alan see our relationship for what it is. However, I think she might stand a better chance of getting him to listen if she’s alone. My presence will only upset him further, and I really want to avoid repeating the events of the other night.

I walk Amelia down to the parking garage and kiss her before she climbs behind the wheel of my car. The roads aren’t nearly as bad as they were the other day, but I still tell her to drive safe. This is really just something that everyone says; I know Amelia will drive safe. She’s always been a cautious driver.

We never discuss how long she’ll stay away, because we honestly don’t know how long her talk might take. Of course, I want her back in my arms tonight, but I can be patient. If she needs more time with Alan, then I tell her to take it. She’ll call me if she decides to stay the night, so I don’t worry, but aside from that, I urge her to not stress about updating me and I’ll see her when she comes back to the condo instead.

I go about my day as I would any other—only perhaps a little more withdrawn. My thoughts often drift to Amelia, and I wonder how she’s making out. In an attempt to keep my mind off things, I call Stephen to see if he’s heard from Gretchen or her attorney.

“Nothing new, I’m afraid,” he tells me. “She’s holding out for some kind of payout.”

“Is there anything we can do to speed this up? I just want to put this mess behind me,” I groan, sitting on my couch and laying my head against the back of it. I close my eyes, pinch the bridge of my nose, and try to keep my anger at Gretchen from escalating. It only sort of works.

“You should know she’s trying to claim you were seeing someone while the two of you were together,” Stephen informs me. “As your brother-in-law, I know that’s not something you would do…but, as your lawyer, you know I need to ask.”

“No.” I pause, wondering if sleeping with Amelia over Thanksgiving could be held against me if it came to light. “Amelia and I… I mean, I hadn’t legally filed for separation when we…
shit.
”

“But you’d left and told her you were going to? And your marriage was already circling the drain, was it not?”

“You know it was. Stephen, did I fuck this up? Amelia and I…we didn’t think this would go beyond Thanksgiving.”

Stephen sighs, and I hear the clicking of his computer keyboard in the background. “We’ll work it out. Does she know you and Amelia are together?”

“No,” I respond. “She showed up and suspected—but that was before we even were. And I filed for separation almost the minute I got back in the city.”

“Right. Well, we’ll figure it out.” Stephen stops talking, seemingly distracted, before coming back on. “Hey, your sister’s here to go to lunch. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure.” Before he hangs up, I say, “Have you told her?”

“Not my place. She knows I know something, and she knows it has to do with you and who you’re seeing, but she’s not pressing me.”

“Okay. Well, if she does, don’t lie to her. Tell her the truth. I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to her in the next couple of days. Once things settle down with Amelia and her dad.”

“I take it he didn’t handle the news so well?”

“That’s putting it mildly,” I tell him, my jaw still bruised and throbbing at the memory of Alan’s right hook. “Have a good lunch. Tell Jules I say hi.”

“Will do. I’ll call you if something else comes up.”

“Perfect.”

After hanging up with Stephen, I decide to clean the condo and do a bit of laundry. This only keeps me busy for a few hours, and then I’m instantly bored again. It’s now three in the afternoon, and I’m back to wondering how Amelia’s conversation with Alan is going. She should have arrived shortly after noon, which means she’s been there for about three hours. This has to be a good sign, right? That’s a pretty lengthy conversation between two people who are on the outs.

Yeah, I’m going with this being a good thing.

I decide to prepare myself a snack, and while doing so, decide to make dinner for Amelia and myself. I still don’t know if she’ll be home tonight, but I could at least have a meal ready for her in case she is.

I won’t have time to properly thaw anything in my freezer, and upon looking in it, I realize I don’t have much in there, anyway. I take a cab to the market, welcoming the menial task of grocery shopping because it keeps my mind occupied. Most of the time.

An hour later, I return home and begin organizing the food after putting a roast in the oven. I pour myself a glass of wine while the roast cooks and head into the living room to watch some television. I flip through the channels despondently, unable to find anything that holds my interest for more than a few minutes, when my telephone rings.

Someone’s at the front door.

Amelia has a key, so it can’t be her.

Gretchen? Julia? Alan should be with Amelia, so I doubt it’s him…

“Hello?” I say, bringing my phone to my ear.

“Owen, it’s me,” a familiar voice says. “It’s Samantha. Can I come up?”

Samm? How random, considering she lives in Texas with her second husband.

“Owen?”

“Sorry, uh, yeah,” I stammer, hitting the pound button to allow her access.

What the hell is she doing here? Are she and Will having problems? Wait…if that’s the case, why would she come to me and not Amelia?

Because Amelia’s not home right now, and Samm probably just flew into the city for the night,
I tell myself, feeling pretty stupid.

Having been friends almost as long as Alan and I have been, Samm and I have always been close. Even when she and Alan split when Amelia was younger, we stayed in touch. Will is a good guy, too, so I’m shocked that they might be having issues.

There’s a knock at my door, pulling me from my musings, and I go answer it. Samm hasn’t changed much, her light brown hair cropped to her shoulders and framing her face, making her blue-gray eyes stand out. I’d forgotten just how much Amelia resembled her. She’s wearing a heavier jacket than what she’d be wearing in Austin, which makes sense given the climate difference, and she’s got a small carry-on sized bag in her hand.

“Hey,” I welcome her, opening the door further and pulling her in for a hug. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Is it?” she asks, her voice kind, but the question confusing. “Surprising, I mean?”

I take a step back and silently offer to take her bag and jacket from her, all the while eyeing her with confusion. She accepts before carrying on. “Alan called me the other night.”

A lead weight forms in the pit of my stomach, but this doesn’t stop my nausea from crashing around it. “He did.” This isn’t a question. Even though I have yet to confirm this with him—or Amelia, considering she’s probably going to learn about this at some point during her talk with her father—I don’t doubt it. I’d have included her mother in on this if I’d been blindsided like him, too. “He didn’t say anything.”