Jackson

Amelia is killing me. Taking a dull-ass knife to my heart and killing me. I’m sitting at my table at her brother’s engagement party and all I can do is stare at her from across the room. She’s wearing a tight black mini dress that hugs her in all the right places. Her hair cascades in curls over her shoulder. Fucking beautiful. To the untrained eye, she looks perfect. But I can see the subtle signs that she’s falling apart inside. She’s talking to a woman I don’t recognize and she’s smiling at her, but the edges of her eyes are pink, and the set of her shoulders is all wrong too. She’s always got them pulled back like she’s ready to go into battle, confident and proud. Not tonight. I wish she’d talk to me.

It’s clear to me now that I can’t be without her. I’ve spent the past week wanting nothing but to breathe the same air as her and she won’t let me. It’s fucking awful. I made a promise to her that I wouldn’t make a scene tonight. But I want to touch her, comfort her. Let her cry on my shoulder.

The line at the bar has finally calmed down. Walking over, a hand pats my shoulder. It’s Will. We shake hands and I say, “Hey, man. Congrats. Great party.”

“Thanks, let’s do a shot.”

“Sure. I’m in,” I say.

We make our way to the bar and Will orders us two shots of Southern Comfort. We clink our glasses together. “Cheers,” he says.

“To a long, happy marriage.”

We drain our shots and order two beers. When my eyes meet Will’s, he’s taking me in. “Everything ok with you, man?”

“Yeah, I’m great. A bunch of projects going on at work has me busting my ass. That’s all.”

“I get that.” He’s looking in Amelia’s direction now. “Hey, look at my sister. Something is going on with her. She seems sad.”

Forcing myself to look surprised, I say, “Oh, really, what do you think is wrong with her?” If he had any idea, he wouldn’t be talking to me about it.

“It’s probably some dickhead she’s been dating. I should go kick his ass.”

My heart pounds like a fist in my chest. What the fuck? “Who is it?”

“I think it’s a co-worker. Dave or something. Like I said, she won’t tell me. I heard her talking to Julia about him. Guess he won’t stop calling her, won’t leave her alone now. You should go talk to her. See if you can find out anything.”

He better believe that I’ll be asking her about Dave. “Yeah, sure.” My voice comes out even, but inside my blood pressure is moving to an unacceptable level.

“Good. Let me know what you find out. My baby sister’s happiness is very important to me.” He points in her direction with his beer.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go talk to her. You go enjoy your party.”

“Thank you. And before you leave, I wanted to ask you if you’d be my best man.”

My smile widens for the first time tonight. “You’ve got it.”

We shake hands again and pat each other on the back. “Great. So, you’re definitely coming for the destination bachelor party, right? I’m not taking no for an answer. I know work is busy, but you can take three days away.”

There’s no way I should be leaving with all the projects going on right now. Spring is the start to our busy season, but my brothers can hold down the ship while I’m gone. “Yeah, man, wouldn’t miss it.”

“Yeah, Mexico is going to be sick.” His grin is wicked, like it used to be when we were kids and were trying to get away with something like stealing his dad’s girlie magazines.

“Looking forward to it.” I pat him on the back and say, “I’m going to see how Amelia’s doing.”

“Okay. Fill me in later.”

I nod and walk toward her table. She’s talking to the same woman she was a few minutes ago.

My palms are sticky; I’m nervous to talk to her. Who am I? Wiping my hands on my pants to make sure they’re dry, I go to her and place my fingers on her shoulder. “Hey.”

She looks over her shoulder and her eyes widen when she sees it’s me. She gathers her composure quickly. “Hi, Jackson.”

Looking at the woman Amelia is talking to, I say, “Do you mind if I steal her for a minute?”

The woman steps aside. “Of course not. Have fun, dear.”

I reach my hand out to her. “Come dance with me.” It isn’t a question. I need the contact, the connection with her that I’ve been missing all week.

She blinks and looks around the room and finally gives me her hand. We walk to the dance floor. The song is slow and sweet; I don’t know the name of it, but it’s exactly what we need. Putting my arms around her waist, I pull her close to me. I’d like to stick my nose in her hair and breathe her in, kiss her neck. Not with her brother and family in attendance. She brings her arms around my neck and leans into me and instantly I’m hard.

“This feels so good, Amelia. I’ve missed holding you.”

She looks up into my eyes, tears welling up at the creases of hers. “Jackson, I thought we weren’t going to do this here.”

“You won’t see me.”

“I haven’t been ready. Why can’t you understand that?”

There’s a spot in the back of her dress that’s open. I run my finger along her soft, bare skin. Her sweet floral perfume surrounds us. “I don’t understand any of this, but I’m trying. All I know is that I want to be near you. I hate myself for not being there with you when it happened.”

“Please. I can’t talk about that here.” She buries her head in my chest. The desire to squeeze her to me, protect her, and dry her tears is overwhelming.

“Okay, I promise. I won’t talk about it anymore, but I have to ask you a question. Please be honest with me.”

She looks up at me with her full lips parted. “What is it?”

“Who is Dave?”

“My co-worker. Why?”

“Your brother mentioned that you guys might be dating.” There’s no anger in my tone. Not yet.

She smirks; it’s small but I like to see it. “I had to tell Julia something, because she wouldn’t get off my case. I made up a story about Dave so she’d leave me alone. I think Will put her up to it.”

“Yeah, he put me up to it too.”

Her earrings swing back and forth as she shakes her head. “You’d think now that he’s engaged, he’d butt out of my business.”

“Never.” Hell would freeze over first.

When she rests her head on my chest again, I ease my hands down her hips and press my fingers in as we sway together to the music. I look around to make sure that Will isn’t watching us. He’s with Julia and they’re talking to some friends.

The slow soothing song is nearing its end. I’m not ready to let her go. “The song’s almost over, but I’m not letting you go until you agree to see me.”

She scans my face, pale eyes crinkling at the sides.

“I’m serious, Amelia. Let’s make a deal.”

“This isn’t a game to me.”

Pulling her in closer, I can almost taste her lips, red and sweet, they’re so close to mine. “You’re anything but a game to me. Hear me out. I need to see you. Can we agree to meet once a week? That’s all I ask.”

Her breath catches. If either of us moves an inch, there’ll be no going back. “Jackson.”

“Say yes, Amelia. Once a week.” The music changes. It’s a fast-paced dance song with steady bass, but Amelia and I continue to sway to our own beat. “I meant what I said. My hands aren’t moving from your hips until you agree to my terms.”

“Okay.” She shakes her head as she pushes herself away from me.

I let her go. Instantly missing the contact, but content that she’s going to give me what I want, I say, “Thank you.”

She walks away. I can’t stop myself from watching her every step as she leaves me. Her legs, toned, smooth, and her perfect ass. My mouth waters with each stride. I’m going to use every minute she gives me to win her over and make her see that we can work.

* * *

We’re meeting for dinner tonight. Amelia’s keeping good on her end of the bargain to see me once a week. She wouldn’t come over to my house and she wouldn’t let me come to her place. She said something about the restaurant being neutral territory. It isn’t ideal, I’d like to be somewhere private. Not for anything more than the intimacy that the nearness would create without crowds of people around, but I’ll take what I can get.

I’m at the restaurant thirty minutes early. Long enough for me to drink a beer and order another one. When she arrives, I sense her before I see her. She has on a pretty pink top that exposes her cleavage and white shorts. My mouth waters and my hands twitch with wanting to touch her. I squeeze them together under the table. She has to know what outfits like that do to me. Her body is gorgeous with curves in all the right places and a tiny waist. Absolutely delicious.

But it isn’t all about the physical with her; don’t get me wrong, when all of my fantasies about her became reality, my expectations were more than exceeded.

She’s more than a pretty face and drop-dead gorgeous body. She’s smart, confident, and loyal. That might be why she scares the shit out of me too. I knew once I had a taste of her there’d be no turning back. As much as I tried to deny it to myself, I couldn’t hide from it.

When she told me about the pregnancy, it threw me off my game for a minute. Nothing could’ve prepared me for that news. I wouldn’t have been more surprised if a car drove through the front of Braeden’s house that night.

Slowing my life down to be someone’s father seems as likely as me going out tomorrow and running a marathon. Not going to happen. Until all of the sudden it was my reality. When Amelia told me that she lost the baby, I was just starting to bend my mind into the idea.

Her face is cool and neutral as she walks tentatively toward my table. This isn’t the Amelia I’ve known for years, open and flirty. Tonight, she’s closed off. Her arms cross in front of her when she reaches the table. My heart sinks seeing her this way.

She gave me this look once before. I was eighteen and she was fifteen. Her parents were gone for the weekend visiting friends. Will and I brought girls home. I hooked up with a girl who was extremely loud. I’m pretty sure the neighbors heard her, so I knew that Amelia did. When I walked the girl out, Amelia was sitting in the living room watching TV. I asked her if she was okay. She didn’t answer, she just gave me an icicle stare similar to the one tonight. It provoked the same feeling then as it’s doing tonight. Disgust and guilt in myself. I never brought another girl to Will’s house again.

Standing to greet her, I walk over to her, kiss her cheek, and pull out her chair. “Thanks for coming. It’s nice to see you.”

Taking her seat, she says, “I told you I’d come.”

“Yes. I wasn’t sure you would. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

A waiter stops by our table and she orders a cabernet and I order us some calamari.

“How have you been?” I ask. It’s best to start with the basics.

Her eyes shoot to mine as if to say, are you serious? It’s a normal question to ask, but she doesn’t seem like she wants to answer me. I’m staying quiet until she talks to me. All I want is some honesty, because clearly she isn’t herself and I’m no damn mind reader.

“I’m fine. What about you, Jackson?”

There’s no way in hell she’s fine. “You don’t have to lie to me.” My voice raises and I didn’t mean for it to. I wanted this to bring us closer, not put a wedge between us.

I’m relieved when the waiter brings Amelia’s drink and our appetizer. I’m starving. I’d like to shove the entire plate in my mouth, but I settle for a huge piece dipped in the orange-ish colored sauce.

Her lips purse together so tight they turn a shade of light pink instead of their normal cherry red. “Well, if you really want to know, I haven’t been doing great.”

“Me neither. I’ve missed you.”

She nods and takes a sip of her wine and swishes it around her mouth. “Sorry to hear that you’re not well.”

Would it kill her to give me something? Anything. Nothing about this woman sitting in front of me is my Amelia. She’s working so hard to stay focused and give nothing away. “Look at me, Amelia.” I use a firm tone with her. I don’t know how much more of this attitude I can take.

Her tawny eyes find mine and I hold them there, hoping it will connect us, bring us back to us. “Can you just drop the tough girl act and talk to me? We’ve gone through a tragedy together.”

“We’ve gone through it? As far as I can see, I went through it. You didn’t go through the pain. The surgery. You aren’t depressed every morning when you wake up and realize it wasn’t a horrible dream, but your reality. You didn’t fuck everything up because you had an IUD. It’s all on me.” That’s when it happens, the dam breaks and she starts to sob. I didn’t realize so much water could come out of someone’s eyes.

Shit, I hate seeing her cry. It breaks something loose in my heart that splinters against my ribs and rattles around in there causing physical pain. Pulling my chair closer to hers, I’m unsure if I should touch her. It’s all I know how to do. I put my hand on her thigh and when she looks up at me, I wipe under her eyes with my thumbs. “Amelia. I need you to talk to me. Tell me these things. You don’t have to hide them from me.”

“Okay,” she says between sobs.

“And please don’t pretend to know what I’m feeling about all of this. You’ve got no idea.”

“Well, it’s not like you’re an open book or anything.” Her tone is sharp and she clasps a hand over her mouth as soon as the words come out, like she regrets saying them. It’s not a surprise to me. I know I’m a closed off bastard, never showing my feelings to anyone, with the rare exception when I open up to one of my brothers.

Taking her hand in mine, I say, “I know. I’m sorry about that. It’s all I know. It’s killing me to see you this upset. Please forgive me for not opening up to you.” The truth is that I still haven’t forgiven myself for not being there for her when she was miscarrying. My damn phone was charging in my kitchen. I didn’t see her missed call and message until it was too late, but I should’ve gone to her, should’ve figured out what was wrong.

A squawking scraping sound jars me to the present. Amelia’s moving her chair away from me. It’s like half the restaurant turns to look at us. That’s why I didn’t want to be here. This conversation is too personal for such a public place. Putting her wine glass to her lips, she takes several swallows and sets it back down. “I’m sorry. I had to move to keep my head on straight. Having you close to me makes it hard for me to think.”

“Okay.” I don’t like it, but I have to respect her. I understand what she means. Being close to her, inhaling her sweet-smelling perfume and floral shampoo clouds my thoughts. It makes me want to pull her in close to me and never let her go even though her body language is screaming at me to take a step back and keep my hands off.

When she drains her glass of the last of her cabernet, she says, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to go. Today’s been a tough day for me and I need to some time to myself.”

“But...”

She doesn’t let me protest. “I know I’m cutting the evening short, but I can’t handle any more tonight. I’ll see you again next week, like I said I would. Okay?”

It’s final. She’s done tonight. There is no sense in trying to change her mind or talk her out of it now. Not my stubborn Amelia. “Next week you’re coming to my place.”

Her eyes flash something. Is it fear, concern? I can’t tell.

“I want to talk to you, Amelia. Without all of this.” I wave my hand around the crowded restaurant. “Please don’t worry. I won’t touch you if it’ll help you keep your head on straight.” It might kill me, because I want my hands all over her, but that’s not why I want her at my place. Tonight was a fail. We couldn’t be ourselves. We have to get back to being Jackson and Amelia. Being alone together will help get us there. At least I hope it will.

“Okay. I’ll stop by your place next week.” She stands and starts walking away.

Throwing cash on the table, I rush out behind her.

Amelia sees me coming and slows down.

The words I want to say prickle at the back of my throat, so I leave them there. When we stop in front of her car, I want to kiss her or hug her at least, but I don’t. It’s clear from how far she’s standing from me and her stiff posture that I shouldn’t even try to be courteous with a kiss on the cheek. “Drive safe.”

“Thanks,” she says, her tone flat. “See you next week.”

“Will you call me if you want to talk before then?”

When she looks down and kicks at something I don’t see, I know her answer is no. She won’t be picking up her cell and dialing my number any time soon.

“See you next week,” I say and turn to walk toward my car. How the fuck am I going to make it a week without seeing her again and trying to make this right?