“Hey,” he says, shyly. Looking up, he asks, “Can I come in?”
Another tear drips down my cheek as I nod and push open the door for him to come in, but he doesn’t walk fully into my living room, instead, he gathers me in his arms and holds me tightly.
That’s all it takes, one hug and I break.
I sob into Trey’s chest while he shuts my front door and guides me to the couch, sits down, and drags me on top of his lap. I bury my head into his shoulder, letting my anguish seep into the cotton of his shirt.
“Shh,” he coos into my ear, his hand rubbing up and down my back. “It’s okay, Amelia.” And then my mind runs rampant.
“Why? Why do you two have to be brothers? Why did you have to ruin everything, ruin our plans? How could you want me to leave my father? Why did you lie to me about interviews?” Questions fly from my mouth, my brain unable to stop them.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Amelia. You have no idea how sorry I am. I’m such an idiot, and I did the one thing I promised I would never do. I hurt you when I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“We were happy, Trey. We had a little stumble, but we were figuring it out. I don’t understand. Was I not good enough to move for?” My past insecurities start to show, my damaged heart on full display.
“No, don’t even think that. Shit.” Trey exhales. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I just . . . I wanted to make sure we were happy. I know you were upset to leave the city, and I thought I was making a decision you were too afraid to make. I never should have assumed. I should have talked to you about it. I can’t apologize enough.”
He cups my face, lifting me up from his shoulder. His thumbs wipe at my tears as he studies me. Those eyes, they’ve lived with me for so long between two different men, two brothers, how did I never notice the similarity before?
“Amelia,” Trey says, his voice soft. “I love you.”
Sorrow encompasses me as more tears roll down my cheeks.
“Please tell me I have another chance. Please tell me I didn’t ruin everything between us. I need to know I didn’t screw up completely.”
My voice catches in my throat as I try to answer.
“I . . . I don’t know, Trey.” Why am I thinking this? Nothing has changed. He’s apologized but nothing has really changed.
He squeezes his eyes tightly together, his forehead leaning against mine. “Fuck, please think about it at least. Please don’t make a decision right now, give it some time.”
Give it time. Aaron gave me time to process leaving Trey. Knowing there is no way I can verbalize what’s in my heart, I nod. “I’ll think about it.”
Relief washes over Trey as his hands grip my face, his head still pressed against my forehead. “Thank you.” He shouldn’t feel relief here. Even if I don’t resolve things with Aaron, I still feel Trey and I are done. Nothing has changed. Sadly. His nose rubs against mine and despite the anger, confusion, and sorrow that’s keeping me from thinking clearly, when his lips press against mine, I pull away quickly.
“No,” I whisper, putting my fingers against my lips in shock.
Slightly defeated, Trey squeezes my hand and says, “I love you. Call me anytime, I’ll be waiting.”
Unable to say anything, I nod, my hand at my lips as he walks out of my house, leaving a disturbance in my already tormented thought process.
What the hell do I do now?
***
I put my car in park and rest my head on the steering wheel. Three days, it’s been three days and there has been no sign of Aaron. He hasn’t come by the house, at least not when I’m around, and I haven’t heard anything from him. I thought maybe he would send a text message, but he’s been radio silent.
Trey has been sending me at least half a dozen texts a day, all sweet, all loving. Yet truly, although they’re nice, they’re a little too late.
Even though I’m angrier than ever at Aaron, for lying, for walking away, I want to say it’s for the best, but I can’t. Despite everything that has happened between us, I want to know he’s okay. And that bothers me. He left my house with a bloody nose, for all I know, he could have been seriously hurt. If I had Tucker’s information, I’d give him a call, but I have nothing.
I tried Mrs. Ferguson last night to see if she’s heard anything, but she’s on vacation and has turned off her phone, at least that’s what her voicemail said.
Feeling defeated in more ways than one, I grab my purse, the donuts I brought for my dad, and head to his room. The nursing staff is scattered around the floor, so I don’t bother talking to any of them about my dad’s condition. At this point, I’m prepared for the worst and I’ll be surprised for the best.
The moment I open the door to my dad’s room, a wave of heat hits me, hotter than the main lobby, so I quickly disrobe to my T-shirt. Once again, Dad is sitting in his chair, blanket over his shoulders, looking out the window. I set my items on his bed and head to the chair that sits opposite of him.
“Hey Dad,” I say. Nothing. It’s going to be one of those days, but that’s okay. It will give me time to talk. “I brought you a donut.” I take out the strawberry-frosted donut, place it on a napkin, and then on the table next to him. His eyes surprisingly follow my movements, acknowledging my presence.
“I got myself a cronut. It’s all the rage.” I take a bite and enjoy the sugar coating my tongue. I haven’t eaten much in the last few days, so having a little sugar burst feels good right about now.
I cross my legs on the large chair and make myself more comfortable. “You made love look so easy, you know that, Dad? You and Mom, you made it seem flawless, like it was the easiest thing to fall in love, to stay in love, and to live happily ever after. You kind of set me up.” I laugh to myself. “Boy, did I perceive love in a completely different light.”