Chapter 33 – Brent
In the instant that Amelia hesitates, I worry that maybe I’ve misread this whole thing. Maybe she’s not that happy with “us” after all. It’s not like she can’t be happy on her own. But then she says: “I’d like that,” quietly but strongly, and I’m immediately back into good spirits.
It surprises me a little bit how much of an effect this woman is suddenly having on me. We’re only just getting to know each other, and yet the anticipation of waiting to hear her say whether she wants to grab dinner or not is enough to send my heart rate through the roof.
“Okay, great. We don’t even have to be fancy. You like hot dogs?”
“Hot dogs, huh? I was sort of expecting the Rainbow Room, the way things have been going.” I almost panic again, but then I see the sly smile curling the corner of Amelia’s lips. She’s fucking with me.
“Very funny. I don’t know about you, but the last time I got within ten feet of the Rainbow Room, the hostess threw a broom at me. My ‘artiste’ look apparently didn’t go over in that establishment as well as my Wall Street look. Seriously though, I know the best hot dog stand in the city.”
“Best in the city? I don’t think I believe that.”
“You will! Come on.”
We head towards the elevator, and I wave goodbye to Marilyn on the way out. She flashes the peace sign as the elevator doors close behind us.
Down on the street, I guide Amelia through the crowded streets, enjoying the tight grip that she keeps on my hand, so we won’t get separated. Our destination is only a few blocks away, and we get there without any trouble.
“I found this place by accident,” I tell her as we stand in front of the cart. It’s emblazoned with flames and bikini-clad figures, and resembles nothing so much as a panel van from the 80s. The owner, Grover, also looks like a leftover hippie biker, but he cooks like Gordon Ramsay (minus most of the screaming).
“That sounds like there’s a fun story there.” Amelia elbows me teasingly. Then, to Grover, “I’ll take two with everything, thanks.”
“Same for me. And unfortunately, it’s less a story and more a—”
“More a moment of intoxicated good fortune.” Grover chimes in from behind his beard as he slaps four dogs onto the grill. “The first time he came here, this dude was so high that he thought my cart was a unicorn pooping out hot dogs. And he still ate five of them.”
“In my defense, unicorn hot dogs sound amazing even when you’re sober.”
“Whatever you say, man.” Grover passes us our food and goes back to the tattered paperback he’s reading.
“Here, let’s sit.” I point to a set of steps leading to a nearby apartment complex. “I don’t know what it is about this place, but nobody ever seems to come in and out of it, so this is a perfect place for a meal.”
“Maybe it’s haunted.” Amelia offers, sitting beside me and looking up at the building. She bites into her hot dog, and glee spreads across her face. “Okay, you were right, these are amazing.”
“I warned you. Best spot in the city. Now you’ll never be able to go to another hot dog stand because they just won’t be good enough. It’s a curse, really.”
“A delicious curse. I’m okay with that.” Amelia takes another big bite. After a pause, she speaks up again. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
In the middle of my own bite, I chew and nod yes at the same time. Swallow, and “Sure. What’s up?”
“Okay. Will you…tell me more about Kelly?” My face must have fallen, because she adds “I’m sorry, it’s just, hearing Marilyn mention her being upset about all this earlier…it was weird.”
Okay. Deep breath. I remind myself. You can handle this.
“Okay. So, as you know by now, but I guess I’ll start kind of at the beginning, Kelly was my fiancée. We met a few years ago, hit it off really well, and about nine months ago, I proposed. But the closer we got to the wedding, the more things cropped up that we - that she - couldn’t deal with. Mostly, that little fact that she hated my change of direction in life. It sucked, but I’m really glad we ended it. It was the right thing to do.”
I try not to think too hard about the pieces that I’m leaving out of that story - especially the part about the prenup. But that? That’s something I don’t even want to think about myself, let alone explain to this woman eating hot dogs with me while I’m pretty sure I’m falling for her. Some things are better left alone, I insist to myself.
Amelia doesn’t press it too hard, and I’m thankful for that. All she asks is, “Is she really that upset?”
I blow out a long breath. “No.” I lie. “And even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. None of this: the cake, the flowers, none of it, belongs to her. She might have picked them out, but it wasn’t her name on any of the checks. Besides, I’m really enjoying doing all of this with you. All the fun, none of the mess.” That part, at least, is very true.
“Right. I get it. There are plenty of things that my old fiancé - that Jason - sort of took possession of when we were together, you know what I mean? Sometimes he’d even insist on picking out the clothes I wore to be sure they complimented whatever tie he wanted to wear that day. And then half the time he’d change his mind by the time we got to the office.”
“Wait, so you two work together?” I ask, surprise making me blurt the question out.
“Um, yes. We do. But I hardly see him anymore, especially now that he’s got his new squeeze under his thumb. Barely even bothers to look down his nose at me anymore.”
“Sounds like a real stand-up guy.” I swallow the last of my hot dog.
“That’s one way to put it. There are lots of other ways, but you can’t say any of them on TV. Also, was that a little jealousy I heard in your voice when I said he was still around?”
I bite my lip, a little ashamed that it snuck out so obviously. “Maybe a little.”
Amelia sets aside her empty food wrappers and rests a hand on my leg.
“Good. I like it. Means you feel something.”
I look at her and smile. “I sure do.”
“But don’t worry,” she says, squeezing my leg a bit. “He’s got nothing on you.”
Now I can’t stop smiling even when I try. I’m making my feelings for Amelia really obvious, and I don’t even fucking care.