Leaving Amy (Amy #2) (21 page)

“I know, right?” A nagging oyster cracker had gotten stuck behind my front teeth.

“So you see what a wonderful man he is too, then? You get why this is so important for me to find out how not to tank this?”

I scooped another boiling bite into my mouth and shook my head. The popping of my taste buds were penance for trying to score a date with him earlier. Clearly he was earmarked to be this kind woman’s second chance at love. I was merely flirting with disaster. I had a husband. And in the eyes of Kate and Margaret, I needed to start appreciating him better.

“I gather from the couple times I’ve been with him that he’s a bit reserved. I mean, yes, he keeps eye contact and converses great, but he’s not that open about himself.”

“Yeah, he’s not too open, but he’s not evasive, either. You have to draw it out of him.”

“That won’t be a problem. I don’t like a guy who I know everything there is to know after the fifth date. Does that make sense?”

I shook my head. Then she didn’t want to meet Wesley. What little there was to find out was spilled by date number two. He wasn’t an athlete, although he liked watching sports; he didn’t like liquor, although he could chug beer; he’d rather hire someone to cut the grass than get off the sofa to do it himself; and his idea of vacation was sleeping in and eating dinner on the furniture and plainly just not going into the office. There was no need to involve travel in the equation. Although that was tied-up and gagged Wesley. The mysterious guy living trapped inside the other one. The new Wesley did mention the wine country. So much for knowing who I’d been living with the previous years of my life.

“Well, Tom is a little gun-shy as well. Since his divorce, and handling divorces as an attorney, he has little conviction about long-lasting relationships.”

“Poor guy.” She shook her head back and forth, tapping a napkin to her fully-rounded lips. It was amazing; her lips remained glossy after the wipe. “He needs someone completely available to his needs. Someone to put him first and show him that things can work out.”

It was as if I were giving away the cookie recipe of my dead great-grandmother’s. And when I heard exactly what Tom needed outside of my brain, I realized it was something I certainly couldn’t do. The more relationships I was involved in that were dominoing down, the more I became stoic to the fact there was a happily ever after. And with Wesley making partner and me taking over the organization while poor Margaret’s world collapsed, I was not that person. Tom deserved Kate. Beautiful complexion, round cheeks, flawless personality Kate. She even lifted the spirits of the lady taking orders, telling her what a fantastic job she did.

I practically turned up my soup bowl and slurped it down just so I could dash back to the office. I needed to call and cancel my date with Tom. No need in making him a third victim in my double homicide, where all I seemed to do was become the murderer of love.

“Kate, it’s been lovely getting to know you better. Maybe you should call and ask Tom out for tonight.”

Her pointed smile turned downward. “I did, but he said he had plans.” Her round eyes slanted. “I think I was too pushy. That’s the last thing I want to be. I can’t believe I asked him. I’m usually much more patient. I just can’t seem to get him off my mind. Am I crazy?”

Wrong person to ask
, said the crazier lady’s subliminal thought. “Not at all. I’ll give him some hints that you’re interested. That is, if you want.”

She practically hugged my brains out. Before I knew what hit me, she threw her arms around me and I was breathing in her fabulous-smelling, shiny hair. The edge of the table smooshed into my chest. When she released me, I thought I saw water in her eyes.

“Oh, will you? I’d be so thankful. I mean don’t come right out and say we talked and I was asking you to do it. Just say I am very open to any future dates.”

“Okay, then.” I pulled down my shirt and pushed back my stringy-feeling hair.
I needed to get some of that conditioner she uses.
“I really have to get back. Thanks again for lunch.”

“My pleasure. And thank you.”

I was hoping to get home before Tom and be able to get in bed with a thermometer. But it didn’t happen. I saw his car and slid down behind my steering wheel.
What was I going to do now?
I’d practically called him up at work and promised him a good time. Some might even consider it a date. That was before the grieving widow Kate called me to fight on her side of the line. To introduce me to the fact that it isn’t all about spur-of-the-moment feelings of crushes. She was opening up herself after years of hurt, hoping Tom would reciprocate and even be the “one.” What I was doing was more off-the-cuff. Like “Hey, want to go out and see where it leads…because I have little intention of following through with it, seeing that I have to be home in a few weeks to be a wife to Wesley.”
What was I thinking?

I warily opened the front door, looking around before I stepped inside.

“Hey you.” Tom came out of the den and scared me to death.

“Hey.” My heart fluttered, like a sputtering fly right before it dies.

I actually smelled and saw him all at the same time. He wore a pair of jeans with a Henley top. It was blue and somehow was beckoning a rub from my hands.

“New jeans?” I hoped not, but I was stalling for a good idea of why we couldn’t proceed as promised.

“Yeah. You like them?” He looked down at them, brushing off a renegade string. “The salesgirl said they fit all right.”

I bet she did.

“They look great. When did you get them?”

“I left work a little early and got them.”

Okay, shopping for me? Leaving work early?
Not good. Not good for Kate, and not good for a change in plans.

“And you showered, I smell…I mean, I see.”

“Yes. Well, I didn’t want to go from work right out on the town. What about you?” He gestured to me. “Do you want time to get ready?”

I looked down at myself. I had on a pair of dress wool pants coupled with a red sweater. Definitely work attire.

“I wasn’t implying anything by it, Amy. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to wait for you. Certainly I will.”

“Well…” I looked up toward the ceiling. “I don’t feel exactly well. I’m thinking it’s not such a good idea for me to go out after all.”

His head hung while his shoulders shrugged forward.
Commence first letdown.

“Tom, I’m really sorry.” I clasped my hands together.

“What happened, Amy?”

“What do you mean what happened?” I gave my best impression of innocent until proven guilty.

“From the time you received my flowers, to calling me—I didn’t call you; you called me—to now. What happened in that time?”

“I just don’t feel well. I just want to go upstairs to lie down. I’m really sorry to disappoint you, Tom. Really, I am.”

I turned and walked away before checking to see how he took that. I couldn’t bear to see the letdown.

I was stuffing a pack of those oyster crackers in my mouth that I’d found in my bag from the restaurant earlier, when Tom knocked on my door. I quickly chewed them up and forced them down my dry throat. I didn’t plan this out completely right. I was starving.

“Yes?”

“Are you decent? Can I come in?” His voice was muffled, coming from the other side of the door.

I jumped in bed, throwing a blanket over my legs. “Yes, come in.”

Tom carried in a tray. On it, I saw what looked like a bottle of water.
Thank goodness
. And a bowl of something, with a medicine container on the corner.

“I’m sorry I accused you of not being sick, Amy. Of all people, I know that you’d go out of your way to not disappoint me. Forgive me for doubting you?”

He held out the tray like a peace offering. I felt like the bug on a windshield.

“Tom, there’s nothing to forgive.”

He proceeded in farther and set down the tray. “I brought you something in case you’re up for it.”

“Thanks. I’ll take the water.” I reached out to get it.

He handed it to me, went to the other side of the bed and flopped down beside me. His cologne was dancing with my hormones. A nice slow dance, where I’d become entranced and expected to do anything I was told to do.

“The moving company called me, by the way.”

I set down the water on my side table. “The moving company?” I’d forgotten all about my boxes.

“They said they couldn’t get a hold of you and I was listed as an alternative number.”

I hit my forehead. “Yes, of course. Why is it I always list you for these things?”

“Because I’m reliable.”

“I swear, Tom. I might have you down for my next of kin for more than one thing.”

It was true. When Wesley took me off his medical insurance and I had to file for some myself, I listed Tom on every form. There wasn’t even a question in my mind.

“I’m pleased to hear that, Amy.” He smiled and put his hand behind his head to avoid resting it on the wooden frame.

“What did they want?”

“They needed to know where to drive the truck to with all your belongings. Evidently when you dropped the key to your apartment, you forgot to give them a destination.”

Another Freudian slip. Who knew?

“Oh crap. Where did you tell them?”

“I told them the address here. I hope you don’t mind.”

I would’ve minded more if he’d said Wesley’s house. But that was a safe bet he wouldn’t.

“Thanks.”

“They said they’d leave it sometime in the morning and shove the keys in the mail slat.”

“Perfect. I’ll deal with it later.”

We ended the evening with Tom bringing in his laptop and watching
It
’
s a Wonderful Life
. I kept in the blankets while he stretched out beside me on the top of the covers. When the movie was over, I looked over and saw him asleep. I got closer and stared at him for a second. Looking at his handsome face, his eyelids, his lips. I stared perhaps too long at them because he woke up and caught me.

“Is the movie over?”

I jumped backward, landing on my pillow. A guilt-ridden look plastered on my face. “Yes. I was about to wake you.”

He rose slightly, leaning on his elbow and situated in my direction. “Why didn’t you?”

I forced a swallow. “I was about to and then you woke up.”

“I see.” He sat there without moving…without saying a word.

My phone on the nightstand buzzed, forcing me to move positions. It was Wesley. He was telling me good-night and he’d hoped my day was good. I guess he was trying to seem involved.
Why did I suspect foul play with his sentiment?
I typed out for him to have a good night, too and pressed off my phone.

“Who was that? Or do I need to ask?”

“It was Wesley. He wanted to say good-night.”

He fell back on the bed. “Amy, why are you entertaining the thought of returning to that life?”

“It’s not like I’m returning to prison, Tom.”

“Well, I’m going to get to bed myself then.” He got up.

“Thanks for the visit.”

“Do you feel better?”

Why do I think he knew there was nothing wrong with me? And why wasn
’
t he arguing more about Wesley?

“I do. Thank you for the goodies. I managed to eat the soup faster than the movie started. It saved my life.” Now I didn’t want to see soup until after the New Year.

He took the tray and computer and walked toward the door. “Sleep well, Amy.”

“I will. You too.”

He closed the door and I sunk down in to the blankets.
Was running away such a bad idea? All of my things were already packed and on a van. What could be the harm?

The next day when Tom came home, I tried not to be in a position where we’d be alone in the same room. That way I could avoid being killed by him. You see, I kind of hijacked Kate earlier in the day and planned for her to go and make Tom dinner at his house. I figured I owed it to the both of them to see that Cupid kept the directional signs coming. And I knew Tom wouldn’t seem to mind that much. He was a gentleman, after all.