I take the check from Amelia and say, “Thanks, I’ll be sure to give this to Mrs. Ferguson. Have a good night.”
I retreat before I do something stupid. The anger inside me is a living thing, and I don’t know if gathering the boys at Reardons would work tonight. I want to yell life fucking sucks but there is no one to yell at. No one gives a flying fuck, especially not my mother.
Amelia lived in a city of over seven million people. How is it possible that she not only met my brother, but is in a fucking relationship with him?
I want to drag her into my home and claim her as mine. I love her. I never fucking stopped loving her. I gave her to him. I’m not going to accept it. Not this time. Not for another thing. No, I want her as mine. I take a deep breath to try and calm the anger. The resentment.
Tonight showed me how we once were, but it also showed me how we can still be.
As I make my way to my house, my mind reeling with a million different emotions, there is one thing I’m certain about. For once in my life, I’m going to have something I deserve, something my brother won’t have.
I’m going to win back Amelia.
Chapter Nine
AMELIA
“It’s so good to hear your voice,” I say as I turn onto the street of my father’s nursing home. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Trey exhales. “I miss you so damn much, Amelia.” He sighs, frustration clear in his voice. “It’s been busy at work lately. I feel like I’ve been working non-stop.”
Things have been a little tense with Trey since he didn’t get the job he interviewed for. He thought it was a sure thing, given his experience and qualifications, but they went with someone in-house. The night he told me, I cried myself to sleep. I want him here; this time apart is starting to take a toll on me, especially with Aaron next door. He is starting to become more than “cordial.”
It’s almost like he’s trying to be friends, and that terrifies me.
“Sounds like it. Your job has never been this demanding. I feel like even if I was there with you, I still wouldn’t see you.”
He chuckles into the phone as I park my car. “I think you’re right. I’m sorry, Amelia. I don’t mean to ignore you. I hope my texts here and there have at least been something.” He hasn’t been ignoring me, but it’s just been harder—read, almost impossible—to connect with him at night.
“They have.” I decide to stay in the car to talk to Trey for a bit longer since he’s able to carve out some time to talk. Also, I don’t want to take my attention away from my father, and the mac and cheese I made him is in an insulated bag, so I don’t have to worry about the dish getting cold. “I’ve missed seeing your face though. It kills me going to bed without your arms wrapped tightly around me.”
“I know, sweetheart. Fuck, I hate this so much. Want me to take a picture when we get off the phone and send it to you? So you can see my face again?”
I chuckle. “Is it going to be a nice picture, or like the one you sent me three days ago of you with your tongue hanging out?”
He quietly laughs. “I thought you wanted to see your favorite part of me.”
“It’s sad that you think your tongue is my favorite part of your body.”
“I don’t know.” He pauses. “Almost seems like it was before you left, the way you came all over it. And the way you screamed my name in the back of your car before dinner when I was in Binghamton.”
“Trey!” God, do I remember. I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard like that, especially in the backseat of my car in an Olive Garden parking lot. My face heats up just thinking about that day.
His laugh fills my car, making me feel elated but also sad. The emptiness that’s plagued me since I left the city is amplified. I miss that daily interaction.
I miss staying up late with him, lying in our bed, and discussing our favorite show, Game of Thrones. I miss cooking dinner for both of us while he dances to eighties music like a goof. I miss our Skeeball league, our Friday movie nights, the cooking classes we took together. I miss him, but on the days when he’s too busy to even send a text, I have felt annoyed too. I think of him every day, and therefore text him every day, so I haven’t been able to get my head around his absence, if I’m truly honest with myself. And I know what he’s like when he’s super stressed. Not that that’s often . . .
Still laughing, Trey says, “You set yourself up for that one, so you can’t yell at me.” He pauses for a second and asks, “Are you still coming down for your birthday weekend?”
“Of course. I’m counting the days.”
“Good.” He sounds relieved. “I was nervous you were having too much fun up there in your old stomping ground.”
Fun? If only he knew the kind of “fun” I’ve been having. I wouldn’t call my stint in Binghamton so far fun. More confusing, a little heartbreaking, and a whole lot of what the hell is happening to my life.
“Not so much. I don’t get out much. Just visiting my dad and trying to settle into my new job. My friends don’t live in the area anymore.” Besides one, but we don’t have to get into that.
“That’s hard. Soon. I have some résumés in with a few tech companies I feel confident about. The wait will be worth it, Amelia.”
“I know. It’s just hard.” And that’s the God’s honest truth. Every night I come home ragged, tired, and mentally exhausted. All I want to do is fall into a pair of supportive arms to help carry my worries.
“The best things in life are hard. Hang in there, beautiful.” He clears his throat, regret lacing his words. “But hey, I have to go, I’m meeting up with the guys from work for some basketball, and then I have that stupid Halloween party to go to tonight.”
“The one your client is hosting?”
He exhales. “The one and only. It’s such trash. No alcohol, no shoptalk, just enjoying some wholesome tofu and making macaroni necklaces with kids. Should be a real treat.”
“Mail me what you make and make it spooky.”
Chuckling, he says, “I’ll do my best. I love you, Amelia. Talk to you later.”
“Okay. Love you.”
We hang up and I think about what it would have been like if I were in the city this weekend with Trey, going to his work party. Even though he told me not to come because it would be boring as hell, it still would have been nice to watch him try to choke down some tofu and make macaroni necklaces at a kiddie table. No. I don’t care about the party. It would just be nice to be with the other half of my heart.
However, I will have a nice time with my dad, my famous mac and cheese, and a good game of checkers.
When I exit my car, I receive a text from Trey. A picture. I open up the text quickly, and I’m greeted by my handsome man, a smirk gracing his lips, brilliantly blue eyes sparkling, and his hair pushed to the side with his hand. God, he’s so freaking handsome. I sigh and text him back.
Amelia: So handsome.