Chapter Nineteen

AMELIA

I stare out my front window. Flurries flutter from the sky, coating the freshly shoveled driveway Aaron has been working on for the past ten minutes. I didn’t ask him to shovel. I was in the midst of taking stuffing out of the oven when I heard the telltale sound of a shovel scraping asphalt. Sure enough, there he was, in jeans, a jacket, boots, and gloves, shoveling. He wasn’t wearing a hat or a scarf but from the way his breath was puffing into the air, I assumed he was probably hot anyway from all the shoveling.

The last time I spoke to him was the night we went to dinner. I’ve seen him in passing, but have felt too nervous I would change my mind if I actually stopped to talk to him. Instead, I’ve given courtesy waves and continued on with my day, even though my heart has been aching.

I’m here now. I hurt you, and I’m so fucking sorry. But I don’t think I deserve to suffer for that mistake over and over again. I haven’t stopped loving you, Amelia. I doubt I ever will. When he said he wouldn’t beg, my heart lurched, which it shouldn’t. I should feel happy about that. Relieved. But I don’t.

Amelia, please stay here for Thanksgiving. I’d love to take you to see your father. And please stay for your birthday so I can spoil you.

I don’t think he truly knows how hard that decision was for me, to say no. And it shouldn’t have been. It should have been easy to say no, but he’s gotten inside my head. Do I really not love Trey like I loved Aaron? Do I not have the same intense connection with Trey that I had with Aaron? Have? I know every relationship is different, and I’ll always have an attachment to my first love, but is that all my feelings mean? Reminiscing what we used to have?

Because as I stare at him from my living room, my suitcase ready to be packed into my car, my homemade stuffing in a insulated bag, I want to stay and see what a weekend alone with Aaron would be like.

Sighing, I shut my eyes and squeeze them tightly. I wish this could be so much easier. I don’t want to feel anything for him. I want to be over him. I want to be able to breathe when around him, not hold my breath wondering if he’ll kiss me one more time.

I can do this.

I open my eyes and take a deep breath. It’s time to go.

I gather my items and, with a heavy heart, make my way to my car where Aaron is salting the driveway. When he looks at me, his blue eyes pierce through me, the color so vivid, yet the expression devastated when he spots my suitcase.

And just like that, my heart breaks once again. I’m only leaving for the weekend, but it almost feels like I’m leaving forever.

“Thanks for shoveling. It was only a few inches, I would have been fine walking through it.”

He tosses the cup he was using to salt the driveway into the little snow bank to the side and takes off his gloves only to stuff them in his coat pocket. “Better to keep up with the snow in case more comes. It’s easier to shovel two inches than a foot.”

“Are we supposed to get a foot?” My eyes shoot up, wondering if I should make the drive to the city.

He notices my surprise and puts me at ease. “Syracuse and the Finger Lakes are supposed to be hit hard due to the lake effect snow, but we’re good here and the city should be even less. Your drive should be okay. Just take it slow.”

“Okay.”

Stepping forward, his shoulder brushes against me as he takes my suitcase and food from me.

“Unlock your car, I’ll load you up and start it for you so it starts to get warm.”

Why do I want to cry right now? Trying to calm my racing heart, I unlock my car and watch as Aaron starts it and then puts everything in my trunk, making sure to lodge my stuffing into a safe spot so it doesn’t fly around in the trunk.

When he shuts the trunk door, he turns to me and leans against the car. He’s trying to smile but I know that look. He’s not happy. He’s . . . sad.

“All set.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Will you do me a favor, Amelia?”

Nervous as to what he might ask me, I nod hesitantly.

“Will you text me when you get to the city? It will put my mind at ease, knowing you got there safely in this weather. I know you’re not my responsibility, but it will help me sleep better at night.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

You’re not my responsibility. For some reason, that really doesn’t settle well with me.

“Thanks.” He pushes off my car and steps in front of me. My heart catches in my chest when he runs his thumb over my cheek for a brief second before gripping my scarf and carefully wrapping it once around my neck. “Stay safe and warm, Amelia. I’m here if you need anything.”

With his hands still on my scarf, his eyes search mine, something on the tip of his tongue, but instead of saying what’s on his mind, he presses a chaste kiss against my forehead and steps away. He picks up his shovel, the salt cup, and heads toward his garage, never looking back.

Just like the last time he said goodbye, but for some reason, this time it hurts ten times more.

***

Amelia: Made it to the city. Hope you had a nice Thanksgiving.

I’m sitting in my car, tears dried on my cheeks from the long three-hour drive after visiting my father who once again, had a bad day. I spent half an hour with him before I decided to leave. The weather was starting to get bad and my dad failed to make a connection with me. Visits with him are becoming more and more painful. It’s hard, devastating most of the time, hard to leave . . .

And now that I’m in the city, all I want is to be back in Binghamton.

I should be excited, ecstatic, over the moon that I finally get to see Trey again, but instead, my mind is elsewhere.

Trying to put on a happy face, I pull down the visor mirror and check my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot and my makeup is smeared. Trey will know immediately something is wrong. If not from my appearance, he’ll know from my mood.

“Shit,” I mutter, trying to wipe away the blotchy makeup from under my eyes. There’s no use, so I give up and set off toward our apartment, pumpkin pie in one hand—bought from the store—and my suitcase in the other.

The familiar scent of curry hits me when I walk through the entrance of the apartment building. Even on Thanksgiving you can smell it. The smell used to be comforting—part of my home, my daily life—but now it feels weird. Everything feels weird.

When I reach our apartment, I consider knocking. Technically I don’t live here anymore, but Trey will find it odd, so I unlock the door and go in. The hallway is narrow, long, and dark and for a moment, I think Trey isn’t home until his body emerges from the bathroom off the hallway.

“Fucking hell!” he yells, startling me just enough that I jump and lose control of the pie.

Crash.

I stare at the pie, the rather smushed and smashed pie. That can no longer be eaten. Crap.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You scared me.” Trey pulls me into his chest and cups the back of my head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were this close or I would’ve helped you up the stairs.”

“I dropped the pie,” I say meekly, trying to pass the pie off as the reason I’m crying.

“It’s okay. I scared you.” He chuckles lightly. “We kind of scared each other there, guess being apart for so long will do that to each other.” He kisses my forehead. “But I’m glad you’re here. Hell, it feels so good to have you here again.”

His voice is soothing. His body is warm. His arms are comforting.

“We don’t have dessert now.”

“Amelia.” He lifts my face from his chest to look me in the eye, and when he studies me, his brow pulls together. He reaches over to the wall and flips on the hallway light, casting a glow on my emotional state. “What’s wrong?” It’s a simple question that holds a lot of weight.

My throat closes tight, making it almost impossible to speak. “The pie,” I answer idiotically. He doesn’t buy it.

Leaving the pie and my bag behind, he takes my hand and guides me into the bedroom where I’m reminded of the little cocoon we used to share. Flashbacks of all the fun we’ve had in this apartment, all the dinners we made, all the lovemaking, flood my mind. This was my solace, my home, so how can it now feel cold like I’m only a visitor?

Trey forces me to sit on the bed. He takes off my shoes and lays me down only to join me. It’s a position I used to be so familiar with, a position where we’ve had some of our deepest conversations. And from the look of it, we’re about to have another.

With pillows under our heads, we lie on our sides, our legs twining together, our eyes fixed on each other. Trey lifts his hand and brushes my hair behind my ear. “What’s going on, sweet girl? And don’t tell me it’s the pie, because I know that’s not true.”

He knows me too damn well. I should be happy but instead, I’m a little annoyed and for good reason, because the last thing I want to do right now is talk to Trey about my feelings. How would I go about that? Do I tell him I’ve been living next to my first love, and now I’m caught in my mind, confused about what he means to me?

Doesn’t seem like a winning conversation to have the first few minutes we’re back together, or ever for that matter. Trey doesn’t need to know about Aaron. I think it will only hurt him, especially since I won’t do anything about those feelings.

Honesty isn’t on the tip of my tongue. There is so much I should want to talk to Trey about, but I’m emotionally and physically spent.

“My dad had a bad day.” This isn’t a lie. When I left the nursing home earlier, I carried a heavy heart out the door. It seems like every time I go visit him, he’s having a bad day. I’m not sure if he doesn’t recognize me or if he’s so confused he doesn’t want to speak at all. The thought of him shutting off stings me, and for what seems like hundredth time today, I’m in tears.

“God, Amelia, I’m sorry.” He cups my cheek and rubs his thumb lovingly along my skin. “I can’t imagine what that must be like. Did he recognize you?”

I shake my head, tears falling onto the white pillow beneath me. “He didn’t even acknowledge me. It’s been like that the last few visits. The only time we spoke was when I first arrived in Binghamton. Ever since then, he’s been quiet, never looking me in the eye.”

Sighing, Trey says, “I’m so sorry. Has the nursing staff said anything about it?”

“Not really.” I press my lips together. “I can tell they’re just as concerned as I am.”

“Is there anything they can do?”

I shake my head. “No, not really.” He’s so . . . lonely. It’s all I can think about. What kind of silence exists in his mind? Does he talk to himself at all? Does he remember the bright and fun-loving man he used to be? “Do you remember when he used to sing that stupid ditty to me and laugh himself silly at—”

“Um . . .” Trey smiles hesitantly at me.

And then it hits me.

He doesn’t know my dad. He’s never met the healthy, wonderful, compassionate man my father was. And that makes me grieve more. My boyfriend will never know him. A new wave of tears hit me.

“It’s late. Why don’t we get ready for bed and watch a movie? Get your mind off things.”

I nod. “That would be perfect.” I think that’s perfect. Isn’t it? It’s what I needed. To get my mind off things . . .

He swoops in and tries to steal away my worries. That’s what he does best. There are no expectations of what we could be doing tonight, no sexual innuendos, just comfort. Together in silence, we brush our teeth and when I go to change, he doesn’t stare, he gives me space until we both climb into bed. Under the covers, he pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly.

It’s been what seems like forever since we’ve had sex. He’s holding me tight against him. It feels so good. This is why I came. To be by his side and become an us again.

Yet, he’s not aroused. Trey didn’t look at me. Didn’t want me sexually. Doesn’t. Yes, in my head, I know it was for me. But what about what he wants? He’s a man. Men think about sex around twenty times per day. How can he not be aroused when he’s holding me so close to his body? Is it just because he thinks I don’t want sex? Because he loves me, he’s not initiating something we both love? If he started kissing me, surely I wouldn’t turn him down. Would I?

This is a little achingly familiar and I feel disappointment deep in my bones.

Three years ago, Aaron made choices because he loved me. He gave up what he wanted, so I would get what I wanted. But now, now he’s fighting for me. I see it in his eyes. He’s desperate for me to say yes to him. And I know if I did, we wouldn’t leave his bed for days. It makes me think of our one-year anniversary again. What did he say? Buried deep inside, a look of absolute bliss on his face. “God, baby. Being inside you. Tasting you. No other man will ever have you. No man will ever know how impossible it is to go without you. Two days. I haven’t had you for two days, and it feels like months. I would never last that long without you. Nothing would keep me away from your magnificent body. Nothing. That’s all you, sweetheart. All fucking, beautiful, irresistible, insatiable you. God, I love you.”

I know Trey loves me. He didn’t forget to tell me. He was trying to relax me and take my mind off my bad day. I know this. Tomorrow. Tomorrow we’ll have wild monkey sex, eat all the foods I’ve missed since being away, say I love you all day, and everything will be right in my world here. In my world . . . here.

I haven’t had you for two days, and it feels like months. I would never last that long without you. Nothing would keep me away from your magnificent body. Nothing.

Tomorrow, Amelia. That will be my tomorrow. With Trey.

I stay awake that night in Trey’s arms while flashes of my other world invade my mind.