I can barely breathe.
It’s easier to keep your distance from someone when you’re mad at them, but I’m not mad at him anymore. Recently, my anger has slowly dissipated, and old feelings—that rival feelings I have for Trey—are resurfacing.
“You still there?” he asks, sounding unsure.
“I have to go,” I choke out. “Thanks for calling.” Hanging up quickly, I set my phone next to the pretzel and bury my head in my arms resting on my knees.
He still celebrates my birthday with our special sundae.
Every birthday I’ve thought of Coldstone’s birthday cake sundaes.
And obviously, so has he.
God.
Tears spill from my eyes as my heart cracks . . . again.
***
The sun starts to set, casting the apartment into a shade of darkness. The only light on is the light over the sink in the open kitchen. The TV isn’t on, there’s no music playing, and the only noise filtering through the apartment is the sound of neighbors milling about their spaces.
I have on a large sweater with the sleeves pulled over my hands that are wet from the sorrow and confusion I’ve felt today.
What a shitty birthday. I drove three and a half hours to spend my birthday with Trey, and for what? We don’t have special birthday traditions.
Then I hear the sound of keys in the lock. I glance at the clock on the DVR under the TV. Four thirty. He’s been gone for ten hours. I don’t want to be mad. I don’t have the energy for it, so when he drops his bag in the living room and scoops me up into a hug, I let him.
“Shit, Amelia. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “I tried to get out as quick as possible.”
“I know.” I bite back tears. Now is not the time. The day isn’t over.
“Let me make it up to you. I have a present and reservations at Idyllic.”
“That sounds nice,” I say with a smile. Even though my heart is heavy, I’m trying to put on a good show. “How about we start with the present?”
“Good idea.” No. Not a good idea, Trey. Why not ask me about my day? Why not ask me what I did today? Trey presses a chaste kiss across my lips and hops off the couch while loosening his tie. He disappears for a second into the bedroom, but when he returns, his shirt buttons are partially undone and his tie is nowhere to be seen. He hands me a small box and says, “This is just a little part of your gift. I’m going to get you more, but this is the start.”
The box isn’t small enough for a ring, which eases my rapidly beating heart. He’s not proposing.
“Did you buy me a car?” I tease while undoing the ribbon. He doesn’t answer; he just waits for me to lift the lid. When I do, I see a key. I lift an eyebrow up at him and ask, “Uh, did you buy me car?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “No, look under the key.”
“Okay,” I drag out. I lift the key, which is attached to an NYC keychain and pull out a slip of paper. With nerves bouncing around in my belly, I unfold the piece of paper. When my eyes focus on what it says, I become thoroughly confused. “This is an apartment on the Upper West Side.”
He nods, his smile stretching across his face. “It’s ours, sweetheart.”
Eh, what?
“You bought a place on the Upper West side?”
He nods. “I want to take you there before dinner. Picking out all the furniture is the second half of your present. It’s a thousand square feet, Amelia. We’re going to have so much room.”
Am I missing something? Did I just flashback to a year ago when we were looking for a place to live but couldn’t afford it? Staring Trey in the eyes, I wonder . . . is he high?
“I don’t understand. Why would you buy a place in the city when you’re trying to get a job in Binghamton? That’s one hell of a commute, Trey.”
He scoots closer to me on the couch and brings my hands into his. Taking a deep breath, he looks me in the eyes. “You know I’ve been working a lot lately. Well, it’s for a good reason.” He smiles brightly. “I’ve been on the cusp of a promotion, and I finally got it last week.”
“A promotion? Is the promotion in Binghamton?” Stupid question, I know, but honestly I’m so lost right now.
“No, sweetie. It’s here. I actually put in an offer on the apartment when I found out. It’s not quite ours yet but the realtor is meeting us there later so I can show you the place. I know the plan was to move to Binghamton, but when my boss told me about the opportunity within the company, I couldn’t turn it down. This is huge, Amelia. Like you don’t have to work huge.”
“I like working.” My mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to comprehend what’s going on.
What happened to our plan? Did he actually have an interview in Binghamton? I haven’t been gone that long, so this must have been in the works even before I left. And now . . . he’s buying an apartment on the Upper West Side and taking a promotion that will keep him at his company. In. The. City.
What the hell?
He thinks I want this?
“Well, we can find you a job at some point.” At some point?
“And what about my dad? I moved so I could be with him, so I could watch over him. I didn’t move there and have a long-distance relationship with you for shits and giggles.”
“I know.” Trey squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment and then says, “You said it yourself, Amelia, he’s not doing well. I love you and your dad, but at what point do we stop living to accommodate him and live for us instead?” What the actual fuck?
“Are you kidding me right now?” I take my hands away from his. “That’s my father. I’ve already left him alone for far too long.”
“He doesn’t talk to you, Amelia.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know I’m there.”
Trey sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Then let’s move him down here. I was talking to Jane at work the other day, and she just moved her mom into this really nice nursing home in Brooklyn. The staff is amazing, and he would be close to us.”
“I can’t just move him. He’s already confused and doesn’t know what’s happening most of the time, so I need to keep him in the room he’s become comfortable with. It’s not like you and me, Trey, where we can process things and adjust accordingly. He doesn’t have that ability to accept change, to understand it. I’m not just going to move him because you got a promotion.”
Seeming frustrated, Trey stands from the couch and rubs his hands over his face. “Then what am I supposed to do here?”
“I don’t know, maybe keep your promises? Or talk to me before you make giant life changes?” My voice is sarcastic, my mind still reeling from the bomb he dropped on me.
“I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d be happy.” Happy? What the fuck?