Chapter Four

The look on Amy’s face as she closed the door that night stayed with him for several days afterward. Though he wouldn’t have thought it possible, he felt worse each passing day. It bothered him that she thought he’d been putting her down; he hadn’t.

Yeah, so maybe he was a bit strict when it came to his diet. He ate plenty of organic fruits and vegetables, along with healthy whole grains and proteins. Much of it stemmed from the habits he’d acquired as an athlete in high school, then in college. Since he’d gone to the state university on a full football scholarship, he’d been serious about not screwing it up.

That ice cream had been good, though. As had the Danish he’d had at her place.

An image of how she’d looked in that sweater and jeans rose in his mind. If ice cream and hot dogs were what gave her that figure, then he was all for it.

Jamie stilled, stunned by that thought. It had barely been a week since he’d found out Celina married his brother. Barely two weeks since he’d proposed to her himself. How could he be thinking of another woman like that?

Even more shocking, he realized, he’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Amy that he hadn’t thought about Celina in hours. He braced himself, waiting for the familiar ache to start working its way through his chest, but when it came, it didn’t seem quite as bad as he’d expected. Maybe he was getting used to it.

Or maybe the cut wasn’t as deep as you originally thought, a little voice chimed in.

That was ridiculous. He’d been dating Celina exclusively for months before popping the question. They were compatible on so many levels. Celina was beautiful and smart and funny, everything he was looking for in a wife. The two of them, they made sense.

Isn’t that what he’d said to her that day at her grandfather’s diner? And she’d agreed ... right before she told him that while she cared for him deeply, but wasn’t in love with him.

What was the difference? Wasn’t that what love was – caring deeply for someone? Putting in the time. Building a solid relationship based on shared interests and goals. Learning about each other. Though apparently, he’d failed in epic fashion when it came to the learning part. Kyle learned more about Celina in a week than he had in six months.

Jamie pondered that as he tidied his desk and prepared to leave for the day, then pondered some more as he drove to the gym and ran through his workout (cardio, since it was Thursday). How did Kyle know so much? Was it because he’d asked the right questions?

Not likely. Kyle wasn’t a big conversationalist, never had been. But he was a good listener, which meant that Celina had probably shared those parts of her life with him on her own. Again the question arose – why open up to Kyle and not to him?

It hadn’t been for lack of opportunity. They’d discussed plenty of other things. Books. Movies. Politics. Not a lot of personal stuff, though. In fact, he realized, he probably knew more about Amy than he had about Celina, at least before Kyle came along. 

He was still thinking about it that night while he prepared an organic, free-range, boneless chicken breast and herbed, fresh vegetables. As meals went, it was both tasty and healthy. But it didn’t give him a fraction of the pleasure he’d seen in Amy’s eyes when she’d eaten that ice cream cone.

It didn’t give him a fraction of the pleasure he’d felt watching her savor every creamy bite.

Huh.

He looked at the clock as he dried the last of his dishes and put them away. Five after eight. Too early to go to bed, but he wasn’t all that tired anyway. He picked up a few sales reports he needed to review, but couldn’t focus. Turned on the television and flipped through the channels, but nothing snagged his interest. Feeling restless, he wandered through his condo, looking for something to occupy his mind.

And came up empty.

There wasn’t anything to put away. Nothing to organize. He was a tidy guy by nature, and the woman who came by twice a week kept everything clean.

Now what? What did single people in their late twenties do?

They hit the internet.

Jamie fixed himself a drink and sank down onto his imported leather couch, tablet in hand. Avoiding social media (he really didn’t want to see any pictures or posts of the happy couple), he pulled up his search engine and typed in Amy’s Book Shoppe instead.

Clicking on her website, he read through a brief history of the place and scrolled through various images, remembering the warm, welcoming atmosphere. It held so much more character and feel than his clean, tidy, immaculate condo. But it was more than just the building itself. It was Amy’s warm, welcoming presence and friendly demeanor that made it stand out.

He couldn’t help but wonder what she did after hours. She was single, about his age. After closing the shop, would she go upstairs and fix herself something to eat? Would she make herself a healthy meal, or pop something into the microwave? Would she take a bath or a shower, maybe settle down with a book before she went to bed?

Or did she sit alone, surfing the net, wishing there was something more?

On an impulse, Jamie picked up his phone and thumbed through his contacts until he found her. The phone rang as he tossed the tennis-ball-sized stress ball in the air, giving it a squeeze each time it landed in his palm with a muted thump. With each ring, his self-doubt increased. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she didn’t want to hear from him. Maybe she regretted programming her private number into his phone that night, telling him to call if he ever wanted to talk.

“Hi, this is Amy. Leave a message.”

Jamie swallowed his disappointment when the beep sounded at the end of her succinct recorded greeting. “Hi, Amy. This is Jamie. I just... well, I just wondered how you were doing, and, uh, if maybe you were up for seeing another movie this weekend. That’s all. Goodnight.”

He disconnected the call and groaned. Real slick, McCullough. Could he have sounded any more adolescent?

When he slid into his cool, high-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets that night, she still hadn’t returned his call. And despite repeated checks to make sure his phone was on and working properly, it remained silent and message free.