Chapter 19
Fields of bluebells sway next to my feet. Spent the afternoon meandering through the Blue Forest in Belgium. The bluebells only bloom from April to May so don’t miss it. Paths are carved through the fields. A much needed peace after that crazy museum party last night. More to come on that.
~ Adventurous Amanda, May 2014
“You’re up early,” her mom said when she walked into the kitchen, and Amanda bit back a groan. It was six o’clock in the morning. Why wasn’t her mother asleep? Or at Kurt’s. Or Greg’s. Or anyone else’s.
She shuffled her notes in front of her. “I have a phone interview this morning.”
“Really? For a new job? I didn’t realize you were looking.”
“Yes. I need a change.” She’d sent out a dozen resumes in the last two weeks and this was the first one that had panned out.
“Change can be a good thing,” her mother said, giving her a smile. “Is it for another magazine? Which one? Here in the city? It’s really early.”
“It’s for an online magazine. They’re based in New York, so this isn’t early for them.”
“New York. If you take it, would you have to move?”
Amanda couldn’t read her mother’s expression. It was a strange combination of hope and sadness. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
“I’m not sure. Why? You want the house to yourself? Imagine what that’s like.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.
“I’m sorry.” She did not want to have this conversation, or any conversation with her mom right now. She was having a shit-tastic week, and she hadn’t heard from Ben in six days.
Okay, that was a lie. He’d texted her yesterday, asking if they could talk when he was back in town later tonight, but she hadn’t responded. He hadn’t said anything else, except that he wanted to talk. Apparently texting it’s over wasn’t how he planned to break up with her. He’d rather do it in person, and she was not up for that today.
We have to talk was up there with the worst sentences possible. No good came from that sentence. If he planned to apologize for being a total ass, his text would’ve said something different. Like maybe, I’m sorry. Or I’m a total ass. Forgive me.
So many options to avoid the dreaded we have to talk.
“I hope it goes well. This could be just what you need. To get away. You’ve always loved a change of scenery. I can’t remember the last time you stayed in one place this long. Maybe since college,” her mother said, and Amanda was a little shocked that her mother actually knew that. And then she felt like a shitty daughter for thinking so little of her own mother.
“Yeah. I’ve been home for almost twenty months now.”
“And your grandfather’s been gone for eighteen of those months. What’s keeping you here?” Her mother paused. “I didn’t mean for it to come out that harshly. He would want you to live your life. Not spend your time taking care of his house. And in a job you hate.”
“Why, because you want the house? He left it to me, mother,” she said, any further words dying in her throat as her mother’s face sank. Jesus, she was a bitch.
“I know that I haven’t been there for you when I should’ve. And I relied too much on your grandparents to help raise you, but I don’t want this house. He gave it to you. He had his reasons why he didn’t list me on the deed. I understand that, but this is the house I grew up in, and I’m your mother. At least give me a little consideration, instead of annoyance and disdain. You know I love you. No matter what you think of me, I’ve always loved you.”
Amanda took in a shuddering breath. They never talked about anything that brushed below superficial conversation. They existed more as acquaintances, barely friends, and not as mother and daughter, for longer than Amanda could remember. Between her mother and Ben, she was about tapped out on revelations and emotional chaos. Maybe getting away was the best idea. Maybe this interview was happening at the best possible time.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just frustrated and stressed. We are just so different, and you tried your best,” she said, trying to care. God, she wanted to care, but for years she’d cared too much, and the walls she’d erected were fortified with each disappointment, with each new home her mother had brought her into, only to leave it before they could settle into a routine.
Routines. She bit back her snort. Thinking about Ben would only make it worse. And how long could she avoid him if he really wanted to see her? He was determined like that, but now was not the time to think about her failing relationships.
“Just know that you can talk to me if you need to,” her mother said, awkwardly patting Amanda on the shoulder. “And good luck with your call. I’ll get out of your hair.”
Yep. She was a total asshole.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said, giving her mother a small smile.
“And get that Ben over here soon. I still owe him pancakes,” her mother said before walking out of the room.
Not the parting shot she wanted.
She glanced at her phone, only five minutes left before her interview was scheduled to start. She pulled up her blog. Her page views and subscriptions had continued to drop. She still had a few ads and affiliate links, but it wasn’t what it used to be only a year ago. She’d never said how long she was putting her travels on hold, and she needed to get back out there and create content that her readers wanted.
She missed traveling. The freedom. The adventure. Every trip a new experience, and she’d met some great people along the way.
Her phone rang. She took in a deep breath and slid her finger across the screen. This could be the answer she was hoping for.
“Hello, this is Amanda,” she said.
“Hi Amanda, this is Charlotte, editor-in-chief. Is this a good time?”
“Perfect,” Amanda replied. They went through the formalities, and a little back story about the online magazine. Amanda had done her homework on The Savvy Traveler before she’d submitted her resume and portfolio. She’d provided a mix of articles from the magazine and from her blog, so they could get an up-to-date sense of her writing style.
When the listing had popped up online, she’d wanted to bounce in her chair. She was at her wit’s end with Betsy, and they were never going to bump her up to a staff writer.
“We’ve just started the interviewing process, but we are looking for one, possibly two, full-time staff writers, who want to report on unique travel spots and provide tips for every type of traveler. We’re very impressed with your blog. The tips for solo travelers are spot on, and I think your voice will appeal to our varied demographic.”
“Thanks. I’ve been landlocked for a while due to family issues, but they’ve been resolved, and I’m ready to get back out there. I’ve kept up my existing blog since I’ve returned, focusing on travel tips and local spots, to keep interest up.”
“I did want to make sure that you were ready to travel again. Almost two years of staying stateside is a long time, but I’m happy to hear that you are ready to get back out there.”
“Yes. My end goal has always been to support myself while traveling, and being a staff writer for your magazine is something I’m extremely interested in,” she said. It was what she’d wanted for so long, but the words felt slightly hollow.
Dammit.
She wanted this job. She’d worked hard to get to this point. She needed to get back out there, but Ben sat in the back of her mind. Hell. Who was she kidding? He was always inching his way to the front, if he wasn’t there already. But she had no clue where they stood. And after that text…
She shook her head, focusing on what Charlotte was telling her.
“I know you are out in California, and that while we are a completely online publication, since we are based in New York, we like to have our writers somewhat local to come in for meetings periodically. Would you be willing to relocate to New York?” Charlotte asked.
New York. She hadn’t been prepared for that question. Traveling was one thing. Months away from home, but always coming back to her friends and family. Not that she had much of a family left. She paused. This question never would’ve made her pause before. She’d continually travelled for six years, crashing with friends along the way, the bulk of her stuff in storage or at her grandparents’—now her—house.
But she refused to close the door on what could be her dream job just because she wasn’t sure about leaving California completely. She had her friends. Ben. No, this was what she’d always wanted. She was sure of that.
“That wouldn’t be a problem,” she said, forcing the conviction in her voice.
“Fantastic. Okay, if you don’t have any other questions, I think we have what we need on our end,” Charlotte said, and Amanda heard a smile in the woman’s voice. That had to be a good sign.
“No questions right now,” Amanda said.
“Great. So, we are running our initial interviews over the next two weeks, and then you should hear back from us after that. If you think of any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me.”
They finished up with pleasantries, and Amanda ended the call, sat back, and stared at nothing. She’d never planned on staying in San Francisco for the rest of her life. Staying in one place never appealed to her before, but she’d started to like being home with her friends. With Ben.
If she even had anything with Ben at this point. She scanned through his text messages again. She’d wanted to respond so many times, but what was the point?
This was either the perfect plan, or it was going to blow up in his face. Hopefully she was still at the office. He’d mapped everything out on the plane ride home this morning, but figured barging in at her office during the day wouldn’t go over well, especially since she still hadn’t returned his texts.
Did she no longer care? Was walking away from what they had so easy that she wasn’t even going to fight?
Hell. This could be a colossal mistake. He walked through the lobby and headed toward the receptionist, flashing the woman a brilliant smile.
“Hello, could you direct me to Amanda Pearsall’s floor? She said she was running late and to meet her upstairs,” he said, willing the nerves in his belly to calm the fuck down.
“Oh my God. You’re Captain Cheesy. The hockey player?” the woman gushed. This could work to his advantage.
“Yes. Yes. I am. Are you a hockey fan?”
“Totally. I try to go to a few games a year. The tickets are super pricey, but my younger brother wants to be a hockey player so I try to get us seats, even if they are up in the rafters,” she said, her cheeks flushed as she smiled at him.
“That’s great. How long has he been playing?”
“A few years now. He started late. He’s almost eleven.”
“Tell him to keep it up. I can sign something for him, if you want.”
“That would be awesome,” she said, shuffling around some paperwork and handing him a blank sheet of paper.
She told him her brother’s name, and he signed a quick note, before handing it back.
“Thank you so much. He’s going to love it. And Amanda’s on the fifth floor, end of the hall, but a lot of people have already left for the day, so I’m not sure if she’s still here.”
“Thanks. And tell Josh good luck. Maybe I’ll see him one day on the ice. I’ll be the old guy, and he’ll be showing us a few new tricks,” he said, with one last smile, before he headed to the elevators. That conversation had surprisingly calmed him, which was rare when random fans called out his name where he wasn’t expecting to hear it.
As the door slid shut, he focused on the numbers climbing, his nerves ramping up again as he got closer. He’d make a fool out of himself for her, but he’d rather avoid that. He was ready to take a leap, and she better be right next to him when he went over the edge.
When he finally reached her floor, he stepped off the elevator and scanned the office. People milled about, rushing around, paying him no attention. He headed in the direction the receptionist had mentioned.
As he got closer, a voice called out. “Amanda, join us for drinks?” a man said.
“No. I’m just finishing up. There’s a bottle of wine and some takeout with my name on it,” she said, and Ben caught something in her voice. Sadness.
He was a total ass.
He stopped in front of her cubicle. She hadn’t looked up when she’d replied to her co-worker.
“Can I join you for takeout?” he asked, the nerves in his belly at warp speed as he shifted to lean against the entrance to her desk.
Her head shot up and she gasped. “What are you doing here? Did you come straight from the airport? I thought you were getting in late.”
“Keeping tabs on me, are you?”
“Yes. For my next article,” she said, her voice steady, and he wanted to punch himself.
“I know that’s not true.” He held her gaze, trying to get her to understand.
“You sure about that? Why are you here? I didn’t respond to your we need to talk text.”
“Why not? We do need to talk. And I don’t think you’re going to write about me. I’m sorry for being an ass at the club. I have baggage that you don’t know about.”
“No shit,” she muttered.
“Have dinner with me. I’ll tell you everything, and then if you think this isn’t going to work, at least I’ve laid my cards out.”
She sucked in a breath, and he resisted the urge to cheer. She wasn’t as uninterested as she claimed.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she said.
He crouched down next to her desk, tired of standing over her like a looming beast, and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles and taking in his first steady breath since he’d stepped off of that plane earlier today. She didn’t pull away. That was promising.
“Please, Amanda. I never should’ve lashed out at you like that. I have no excuse, but I’m hoping I can explain why I did it. I care about you. More than I have for anyone else in a very long time. I’m not ready to walk away from this. Are you?”
She hitched in a breath again, and he swore she leaned toward him, but he held steady. He wanted to kiss her more than take his next breath, but he wasn’t going to jump the gun and scare her off again.
“So, dinner? Whatever you want,” he said.
“I do have to eat,” she said, her smile still absent. He had a lot to make up for, but he was prepared to tell her everything. Even about Tara. He hadn’t shared that story with anyone in longer than he could remember. It’d been easier that way.
“Great. Are you almost done here? And what would you like?” he asked, still refusing to release her hand as she clicked through a few things on her computer.
“Lanzi’s. And extra tiramisu,” she said, and he took in his first calming breath since he’d stepped off of that elevator. Dessert meant she’d planned to stay awhile. She was giving him the chance he needed, and he better not fuck it up. He’d put good money on the fact that she wasn’t usually forgiving.
“I’ll call it in now, and we can pick it up on our way. This conversation is best done in private, so can we go to my place? I promise to drive you home as soon as you want to leave.”
“You aren’t ending things?”
“Ending things? Is that what you thought?”
“Seriously Cheese, you said we need to talk,” she said with air quotes.
“Well, we do. I wanted to apologize for being an ass.” What did she think he’d meant?
Her shoulders shook and it took him a minute to realize she was laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“That is like the universal breakup sentence. Why couldn’t you have just texted I’m sorry. I want to explain?” she said, with air quotes again, as she shook her head.
“That’s ridiculous. We need to talk. That’s all that meant. And no, I’m definitely not done with this,” he said, waving his hand in a circle between them. Had she really thought he was ending things because of one sentence? It made no sense.
“Me either,” she said softly.
“Now, can we get out of here?”
“Call in our order. I’m just shutting down,” she said, pulling her hand from his. He resisted the urge to grab it back, but instead he stepped away from her desk and quickly placed their order with Lanzi’s.
When she pushed back from her desk and stood, he immediately wrapped his arms around her and ducked his head to her ear. “I am sorry. And this isn’t a brush-off,” he said.
She stiffened, then relaxed slightly, but not enough to tell him he was off the hook, or forgiven.
“We need to talk first.”
“Now I’m nervous,” he said, shooting her a smile, his heart beating a bit faster when she returned it.
Progress.
He linked his hands with hers. “Ready?”
“I guess.” She let him tug her from the office. He didn’t let go of her hand until she slid into the passenger seat of his car. He quickly skirted the hood and climbed in, reaching for her hand again. Relief coursed through him when she took it.
***
In very little time, they had the takeout and were walking through his front door. The car ride had been awkwardly silent, like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off but neither was sure if it was going to be an explosion or a little fizzle.
“So, how should we…”
“So, should we…”
They both spoke at the same time, and followed it up with strained laughter.
“Okay, this is crazy. You want to explain. You aren’t ending things. And depending on what you say, I might not end things, so spill,” she said, and then wrenched open his fridge and pulled out a bottle of her favorite wine. “Riesling? You don’t drink this. In fact, you poke fun at me when I do.”
“It’s for you.”
“So you can lower my inhibitions with wine and seduce me into forgiving you?”
He choked out a laugh. “No, of course not. And I’m growing to like it, even if it’s as sweet as candy.”
She grinned at his shudder.
Progress.