“It’s not funny at all; it’s really inconvenient.” I lean back on the couch and rest my head on the cushion. “He has me thinking too much, and I don’t want to think.”
“What do you mean? Wait.” Amanda stands from the couch and says, “One second.” She sprints out of the house like a mad woman, and I pray she’s not going to do something stupid to Aaron’s house when she comes back in. Thankfully, she holds up a bottle of tequila and margarita mix. “Please tell me you have ice.”
“I do.” I chuckle as I follow her into the kitchen.
It doesn’t take us long to make a giant pitcher of margaritas—we’re professionals—and rest back on the couch, pitcher in front of us on the coffee table and two margarita glasses with cactus stems in our hands. Amanda bought me the glasses a while back, and they’ve traveled with me everywhere. Coincidentally, she has the same set. Sometimes we’ll have Skype dates and drink margaritas together from our matching glasses.
“Okay, now we’re armed properly, back to what we were talking about. What do you mean Aaron is making you think?”
“I don’t know. We’ve just been spending so much time together, and then I had to spend the night at his house, so it just—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold. Up. You spent the night at his house? You know you live like five feet away, right?” Didn’t think I could sneak that little tidbit past Amanda.
“I’m well aware. It was when we had that big storm. Power went out and he had a generator.”
“So you stayed the night?”
I take a sip of my drink, thinking back to that emotional night. “It wasn’t my plan. I just wanted to see if my landlord had one, but she didn’t, and he insisted I come inside to talk.”
“Talk about what?” She pauses and her eyes go wide. “About the past?” I nod, which causes her to take a huge gulp of her drink. “Sweet Jesus, what did he say?”
“I don’t even know where to begin.”
I recount the evening, telling her about our confrontation, how I spilled the beans about his brothers, and then he opened up about their adoption. The whole time I was informing Amanda of everything, she slurped her drink down only to refill it again.
“I can’t believe his brothers were given away for adoption.”
“I know. The thing that guts me is he wishes he was adopted as well, but then he has some kind of crazy loyalty to his mom. It was one of the reasons why he knew he couldn’t move to the city with me.”
“One of the reasons he broke up with you.”
“Yup.”
Amanda shakes her head in disbelief. “Unbelievable. I really don’t understand it.”
“Me either. All I know is that after we talked, after we talked everything out, he made it quite clear he has every intention to get me back.”
“No, he did not.” Amanda swats the couch. “He did not say that.”
“He did. He . . . uh”—I bite my finger and try to hide the guilty look on my face—“he even took his shirt off at one point, and we might have almost kissed too.”
“What?” Amanda shouts as she sits on her knees now. She’s so animated. It’s one of the things I like about her. No matter what story you tell her, she’ll always act like it’s a big deal. “You almost kissed?”
I almost forgot about that part, which is weird because there hasn’t been a night that’s gone by that I haven’t thought about it. Perhaps what’s worse is that I haven’t felt guilty, I haven’t really thought about how hurt Trey would be if he knew. And that makes me feel like the biggest ass in the world.
“It was in the heat of the moment, but we didn’t kiss, and nothing happened. We agreed on just being friends.”
The cackle that pops out of Amanda’s mouth is rather annoying. “Friends. Oh my God, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You think you can be friends with Aaron Walters, the forever man you planned on having babies with?” She shakes her head and takes another sip of her drink. “Uh-uh, no way in hell you’ll be able to keep things friendly. You loved that boy hard, Amelia. He was it for you. You can’t just forget those feelings and act like they never existed.”
“We can be friends.” I hope. “We played Jenga the other night without any old feelings blossoming.” That might be a slight lie on my part. Thinking about Aaron threatening to take his pants off is a little factoid I can leave out.
“I don’t think it can work. And what about Trey? Has he come up to visit yet?”
“Just for that interview. Work has been really stressful.” And this part stings bad. Yes, we just had sexy fun on the phone, but it just feels . . . empty somehow. I slouch against the cushions, feeling a little deflated. We knew it was going to be hard, but I truly had no idea. He’s been so busy that he has been absent. Long-distance relationships suck. “I mean, things are good with us. I just got off the phone with him before you got here, but sometimes I wonder if he’ll ever find a job. He’s qualified, but maybe overqualified. Just seems weird that he hasn’t been able to find anything yet.”
“Really? Do you think he’ll still leave the city?”
“I mean, he said he was moving up here. I know he’s had a lot of important things going on at work, career advancement things, so that keeps him firmly planted.” Amanda eyes me, and I know what she’s thinking, so I decide to steer her clear of her negative thoughts. “I’m driving down next weekend to spend my birthday with him. He said he has the entire weekend planned.”
“Well, that’s reassuring.” Amanda shifts on the couch, skepticism very evident in her features. “What does he have planned?”
“He said it was a surprise, but apparently it includes all my favorites things about the city.”
“That’s cute. Maybe it’ll be the refresher you guys need. It’s hard being apart for so long, especially when there is a super-hot ex-boyfriend living next to you.”
I give her a pointed look.
“And speak of the devil. Look whose truck just pulled into the driveway.” Amanda puts her drink on the coffee table and crawls on top of me, her knees digging into my stomach as she tries to catch a view of Aaron.
“Will you please get off me?”
“I want to see what he looks like. I want to see these muscles you speak of.” Amanda reaches the window, but I yank on her body so she can’t sneak a peek. “Hey, stop that, I can’t see.”
“Exactly. He’ll catch you looking, and I don’t want him thinking it’s me.”
“Don’t be paranoid. He won’t think that. Now let me catch a glimpse.” Pushing down on my head, trying to climb over me, she reaches for the blinds, but I hold strong and grip her around the waist, using my legs to hold her down as well. “Stop it.” She swats at my head. “Just a little looksy.”
“No, he’ll see you.”
“He won’t.”
“He will.”
“He—”
Knock, knock.
We still, our heads snapping to the front door.
“Is someone at the door?” Amanda whispers, one of her hands holding on to my ponytail.
“That’s what a knock usually means,” I whisper back.
“Is it him?”
Oh hell.
“I have no idea.” I hold still, trying not to move in case the person on the other side of the door can hear us.
“Answer it,” Amanda scolds.
“No.”