Chapter Twenty

AMELIA

I didn’t expect twenty-six to start off like this. I had other plans. I thought I would still be living in the city with Trey, thinking about a possible wedding in the future, while taking walks through Central Park hand in hand.

Instead, I’m on a bench that overlooks The Lake, by myself, a stale pretzel in hand, and a rather dreary outlook on my three-day weekend.

It’s my birthday, and I was woken up at six in the morning by a phone call. But it wasn’t my phone that was ringing. It was Trey’s. He spoke softly, trying not to wake me, but there was no point, I could hear the entire conversation and when he said he would “be there in half an hour,” my stomach dropped. He’s going to work?

He apologized profusely, told me he would be really quick and try to get out as soon as possible so we could spend the rest of the day together, but it’s past noon and I have yet to hear from him.

Instead of sitting in one of New York City’s smallest one-bedroom apartments, I chose to take a walk. No use sitting around doing nothing. I’m in New York City, I should at least try to enjoy the cool crisp air that fall brings, as well as the variety of boots, scarf, legging combinations so often found during the fall.

I bring my legs to my chest and rest my chin on my knees. I set my half-eaten pretzel to the side, done with it, and look out over the water at the fallen leaves. Fall is my favorite season of the year. There is something about the leaves changing, apple cider on every corner, and how crisp and clean the air feels that I can’t help but have a small smile on my face.

Not today though.

Trey held me close to him last night, his arm tightly encasing me, attempting to protect me from my worries, but as his breathing evened out, my eyes never closed.

A million things were running through my head, and I felt sick to my stomach. I love Trey, so much. He’s always been amazing, but being here almost seems wrong, and I don’t know if it’s because my life is in Binghamton or if it’s because I’m second-guessing my feelings.

Which . . . God, it makes me such an awful person. I know it does. Maybe if Trey had said no to work and was here with me, I wouldn’t have such strange feelings. Maybe if I hadn’t had to clean up hardened and smushed pie off the hallway floor at six forty on my birthday, I’d be okay too. He did say he’d do it later, but really? Maybe all I need is some solid time with him to recharge my brain, because when we’re hanging out having a good time, it’s awesome.

Sighing, I watch a couple stroll in front of me, holding hands with cups of coffee in the others. That should be Trey and me. Why is he working so much lately? Everyone has the day off after Thanksgiving. It’s some weird American tradition. Eat yourself silly and then go spend a boatload of money on Christmas.

Ding.

My phone startles me when a text message comes in. I pull it out from my jacket pocket. Maybe Trey is done with work, and I can tell him to meet me here and we can start my birthday celebration. He said he had plans to make my day wonderful. Feeling a little bit of excitement now, I check my phone.

Aaron: Happy Birthday, Amelia. I hope you’re having a good time in the city this weekend. Mrs. Ferguson left a package at your door so I brought it into my house in case Mr. Mullins sees it and tries to steal it. He’s been known to snatch packages that aren’t his.

I giggle and think about Mr. Mullins, the old man four houses down that has the epitome of old-man butt, accentuated by his red suspenders and dockers.

Amelia: Thank you. And why am I not surprised by Mr. Mullins? He has package stealer written all over his face.

He texts back immediately.

Aaron: I think it’s the mustache. It curls out. You can’t trust a man with a curly mustache. It just screams deviant.

Amelia: Oh one hundred percent. It’s the mustache.

Not sure what else to say, so I press send. When he texts back, I feel a little relieved. I need this conversation. It’s so much better than the loneliness I’m feeling right now.

Aaron: Are you having a good birthday?

Not really, but for the first time since this morning, I actually have a small smile on my face.

Amelia: It’s okay. Trey had to go into work for a bit today so I’m hanging out at Central Park, people watching.

The little bubble indicating he’s texting back doesn’t appear and my heart drops as I wonder if I shouldn’t have told him about Trey, especially since Aaron wanted nothing more than to spend the weekend with me.

Shoot, that was stupid. I should have told him I was having the time of my life, but then that would have been a complete lie.

Pondering—and hating—that I’m so up and down with my decisions, my phone startles me when it rings in my hand.

Aaron.

“Hey,” I answer softly and lean back on the bench, my feet still tucked up close to me.

“Hey birthday girl,” he answers, his voice low and sultry. God, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to talk to him on the phone. I spent many nights lying on my bed, Aaron’s voice filtering into my ear while we spoke about nothing and everything. I’ve missed hearing him like this. “What are you, thirty-three now?”

“Ha, ha. Very funny. I wouldn’t be talking about age since you’re the one who’s actually in his thirties.”

“But damn, thirty looks good on me.” If that isn’t the truth. There is no denying he’s grown finer in age.

“Trying to rub your six-pack in my face?”

“I would love to rub any part of my body in your face.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah, but I can tell there’s a little bit of light in your voice and that’s all that matters. So you’re alone on your birthday? That sucks.”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. I know Trey won’t be very long.” Lie. But Aaron doesn’t need to know when Trey left. Six fucking thirty. This is the first time I’ve spoken to anyone since six fucking thirty . . . on my birthday.

“That’s good.” He clears his throat and asks, “Remember the first birthday of yours we celebrated together?”

“Yeah, you were late and never told me why.” I recall the elation I felt when I finally saw him walk through the club, dressed sexy as sin with a smile on his face only for me.

“My mom.” He’s sullen, quiet, and I’m actually surprised he’s opening up to me now, so many years later. “She was having a bad day and needed me. Found out she was high and paranoid. Thought someone was trying to kill her. When I arrived at her house, she was fast asleep. I checked her vitals a few times, wanting to make sure she wasn’t overdosing. She was fine, but before I left, I raided her house and threw out all of her drugs.”

Pain funneled into my heart from the thought of Aaron having to take care of his mom that night. When he arrived at the club, he didn’t look like he’d just dealt with something that heavy. This surprises me.

“You could have told me. You could have stayed with your mom to make sure she was going to be okay.”

“No. She was fine and didn’t deserve my attention. You, on the other hand, you deserved it all and to hell if I was going to let you down on your birthday.” He pauses and then says, “But I don’t want to talk about my mom; she’s not worth our time. What I want to talk about was what happened after we left the club.”

My face heats up from the memory of Aaron stripping me down in his apartment, his hands gliding over my skin, the way he slowly made love to me that night, his sole focus on pleasing me. By the time it was his turn, his cock was beyond hard, his was ready to snap. I felt loved, full, and adored when we made eye contact the moment he drove into me.

My legs clench tight, the memories making me feel hot all over again.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, my voice soft, a little shy.

“Remember how you wanted to go back to my place right away?”

“But you refused because I hadn’t had a proper birthday cake,” I finish for him.

“Exactly. So we went to Coldstone Creamery and got birthday cake sundaes.”

“Yeah, and you sang to me while we sat on the hood of your car.” I laugh. “You have a terrible singing voice.”

“Can’t be perfect at everything, babe.” My stomach flutters from the pet name he used to call me. “Do you still go to Coldstone on your birthday?”

“No.” I shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Just wasn’t the same without you.”

He’s silent and then asks, “Want to know something?”

I’m not sure if I do but before I can stop myself, I say, “Yes.”

“I still go to Coldstone on your birthday and order the birthday cake sundae. I eat it in the parking lot on the hood of my truck and think about you.”

I can barely breathe.

It’s easier to keep your distance from someone when you’re mad at them, but I’m not mad at him anymore. Recently, my anger has slowly dissipated, and old feelings—that rival feelings I have for Trey—are resurfacing.

“You still there?” he asks, sounding unsure.

“I have to go,” I choke out. “Thanks for calling.” Hanging up quickly, I set my phone next to the pretzel and bury my head in my arms resting on my knees.

He still celebrates my birthday with our special sundae.

Every birthday I’ve thought of Coldstone’s birthday cake sundaes.

And obviously, so has he.

God.

Tears spill from my eyes as my heart cracks . . . again.

***

The sun starts to set, casting the apartment into a shade of darkness. The only light on is the light over the sink in the open kitchen. The TV isn’t on, there’s no music playing, and the only noise filtering through the apartment is the sound of neighbors milling about their spaces.

I have on a large sweater with the sleeves pulled over my hands that are wet from the sorrow and confusion I’ve felt today.

What a shitty birthday. I drove three and a half hours to spend my birthday with Trey, and for what? We don’t have special birthday traditions.

Then I hear the sound of keys in the lock. I glance at the clock on the DVR under the TV. Four thirty. He’s been gone for ten hours. I don’t want to be mad. I don’t have the energy for it, so when he drops his bag in the living room and scoops me up into a hug, I let him.

“Shit, Amelia. I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry.” He kisses my forehead. “I tried to get out as quick as possible.”

“I know.” I bite back tears. Now is not the time. The day isn’t over.

“Let me make it up to you. I have a present and reservations at Idyllic.”

“That sounds nice,” I say with a smile. Even though my heart is heavy, I’m trying to put on a good show. “How about we start with the present?”

“Good idea.” No. Not a good idea, Trey. Why not ask me about my day? Why not ask me what I did today? Trey presses a chaste kiss across my lips and hops off the couch while loosening his tie. He disappears for a second into the bedroom, but when he returns, his shirt buttons are partially undone and his tie is nowhere to be seen. He hands me a small box and says, “This is just a little part of your gift. I’m going to get you more, but this is the start.”

The box isn’t small enough for a ring, which eases my rapidly beating heart. He’s not proposing.

“Did you buy me a car?” I tease while undoing the ribbon. He doesn’t answer; he just waits for me to lift the lid. When I do, I see a key. I lift an eyebrow up at him and ask, “Uh, did you buy me car?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “No, look under the key.”

“Okay,” I drag out. I lift the key, which is attached to an NYC keychain and pull out a slip of paper. With nerves bouncing around in my belly, I unfold the piece of paper. When my eyes focus on what it says, I become thoroughly confused. “This is an apartment on the Upper West Side.”

He nods, his smile stretching across his face. “It’s ours, sweetheart.”

Eh, what?

“You bought a place on the Upper West side?”

He nods. “I want to take you there before dinner. Picking out all the furniture is the second half of your present. It’s a thousand square feet, Amelia. We’re going to have so much room.”

Am I missing something? Did I just flashback to a year ago when we were looking for a place to live but couldn’t afford it? Staring Trey in the eyes, I wonder . . . is he high?

“I don’t understand. Why would you buy a place in the city when you’re trying to get a job in Binghamton? That’s one hell of a commute, Trey.”

He scoots closer to me on the couch and brings my hands into his. Taking a deep breath, he looks me in the eyes. “You know I’ve been working a lot lately. Well, it’s for a good reason.” He smiles brightly. “I’ve been on the cusp of a promotion, and I finally got it last week.”

“A promotion? Is the promotion in Binghamton?” Stupid question, I know, but honestly I’m so lost right now.

“No, sweetie. It’s here. I actually put in an offer on the apartment when I found out. It’s not quite ours yet but the realtor is meeting us there later so I can show you the place. I know the plan was to move to Binghamton, but when my boss told me about the opportunity within the company, I couldn’t turn it down. This is huge, Amelia. Like you don’t have to work huge.”

“I like working.” My mind is racing a mile a minute, trying to comprehend what’s going on.

What happened to our plan? Did he actually have an interview in Binghamton? I haven’t been gone that long, so this must have been in the works even before I left. And now . . . he’s buying an apartment on the Upper West Side and taking a promotion that will keep him at his company. In. The. City.

What the hell?

He thinks I want this?

“Well, we can find you a job at some point.” At some point?

“And what about my dad? I moved so I could be with him, so I could watch over him. I didn’t move there and have a long-distance relationship with you for shits and giggles.”

“I know.” Trey squeezes his eyes shut for a brief moment and then says, “You said it yourself, Amelia, he’s not doing well. I love you and your dad, but at what point do we stop living to accommodate him and live for us instead?” What the actual fuck?

“Are you kidding me right now?” I take my hands away from his. “That’s my father. I’ve already left him alone for far too long.”

“He doesn’t talk to you, Amelia.”

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know I’m there.”

Trey sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Then let’s move him down here. I was talking to Jane at work the other day, and she just moved her mom into this really nice nursing home in Brooklyn. The staff is amazing, and he would be close to us.”

“I can’t just move him. He’s already confused and doesn’t know what’s happening most of the time, so I need to keep him in the room he’s become comfortable with. It’s not like you and me, Trey, where we can process things and adjust accordingly. He doesn’t have that ability to accept change, to understand it. I’m not just going to move him because you got a promotion.”

Seeming frustrated, Trey stands from the couch and rubs his hands over his face. “Then what am I supposed to do here?”

“I don’t know, maybe keep your promises? Or talk to me before you make giant life changes?” My voice is sarcastic, my mind still reeling from the bomb he dropped on me.

“I wanted to surprise you. I thought you’d be happy.” Happy? What the fuck?

“Surprise?” I ask and then sardonically laugh. “A surprise is something like, ‘Hey honey, got us Chinese for dinner. Surprise!’ It’s not buying a freaking apartment three hours away from where I’m living and not telling me about a promotion you were going after. I mean . . . dammit, Trey, we had this all planned out. What the hell happened?”

“Opportunity happened.” He moves in closer, but I don’t let him take my hands. “I want to grow in my career, Amelia. I don’t want to be the lowest man on the totem pole. I want more for my life. You can understand that. You know I love you, but your dad isn’t going to be around very long, so I need to think what’s best for our future, and that’s what I did.”

You know I love you, but . . .

They’re not the words any woman wants to hear. They’re not the words any woman with an ailing father wants to hear. And they’re certainly not the words a woman on her birthday wants to hear.

I know I love him, but . . . this is completely outside the realm of what’s good for us. What’s good for me. What’s good for my dad.

“What’s my favorite sundae from Coldstone, Trey?”

He pauses, caught off guard from my question. “Uh, I have no idea. What’s this got to do with my promotion? Our apartment?”

Nothing. It has nothing to do with his promotion. Just as it has nothing to do with him when it comes to me. To my birthday.

How can one day bring so many warring emotions? Loneliness. Hope. Heat. Dejection. Heartache.

I nod and stand from the couch, feeling . . . resolved. I want to fume and be angry, but after the day I’ve had, I’m simply too tired. A little defeated actually.

But not torn in two.

I didn’t walk away from our relationship. I didn’t beg to go. He encouraged me to go be with my dad, with enthusiastic affirmation that he would move his life as well. He didn’t need to be in the city to do his job; he could do it from anywhere. Yet, as those words passed his lips, he knew them to be lies. His choice was all about him. His plans were in place so he wouldn’t be the lowest man on the totem pole.

He loves me . . . but.

“My future involved us in Binghamton, spending holidays and weekends with my dad as he grew older.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, stepping in closer.

Not able to look him in the eyes, my gaze cast down at the scuffed-up parquet floors, I say, “I think you know what I’m saying, Trey. I think you knew the minute you made the decision to stay here in the city. I’m just sad you didn’t tell me sooner.”

How can he look so confused here? I shake my head in anger and in disappointment.

“By the way, my favorite sundae from Coldstone Creamery is the birthday cake sundae.”