“What? It’s a co—”
“If you say it’s a compliment again,” I warn, and I don’t even have to finish the threat for him to know.
Samuel sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by it. I’m telling you how gorgeous you are, for Pete’s sake.”
“I’d like to go home now. Please.”
An incredulous laugh leaves him, like he can’t believe a woman — an old woman, from his perspective — is turning him down.
“Come on,” he tries, leaning in again. “The night is young. I’m sorry I upset you. We can—”
“If you don’t want to take me home, I’m happy to get an Uber.”
I reach for the door handle, but Samuel stops me, his hand on my wrist with a curse. Then, he puts his hands up in surrender, sitting back in his seat and firing up the engine. “Home it is,” he says with attitude, and then he kicks us into reverse before peeling out onto Bayshore once more.
It’s the worst car ride of my life, awkward and stuffy and reminiscent of car rides with Josh. Samuel is taking me home. He didn’t cross any lines. He did what I asked.
But I can tell he’s upset.
I can feel the anger and disappointment in his silence, can see it in the way he grips the steering wheel and punches the gas and brake a little too hard.
And I don’t know if he’s like Josh, if he wants to make me feel bad — but whether he does or not, I do.
I feel guilty, and like I led him on, like I stopped something I should have welcomed eagerly. He bought me an expensive dinner, along with two expensive bottles of wine.
I shake those thoughts away as he pulls up to my house.
You don’t owe him anything.
“Thank you for the dinner, Samuel,” I manage as I open the passenger side door. I slam it before he can say anything else, and he idles for only a moment before peeling off.
My nose stings with emotion, tears pricking my eyes as I storm toward the house. I fish in my purse for my keys.
All I want is to take this stupid makeup off, change into sweatpants, and be alone.
I don’t notice the Subaru and BMW still parked in my driveway, don’t even think about the boys still being here until I shove through the front door.
David is passed out on the couch.
Greg is standing at the window.
One look tells me he saw everything.
GREG
“Don’t,” Amanda warns softly, locking the door behind her and kicking off her high heels. She picks up the hem of her dress as she storms toward the staircase.
I catch up to her in the kitchen, hand hooking in the crook of her elbow and pulling her to face me.
“What happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Real convincing.”
She grinds her teeth, finally facing me. “It was awful. Okay? Is that what you want to hear?”
The accusation stuns me, and I frown, shaking my head. “Why would you ask that? Of course, that’s not what I want to hear. I want you to be happy, Amanda.”
She snorts. “Yeah, well, I’m beginning to think that’s not in the cards for me.”
She tries to pull away again, but I stop her.
“Talk to me. What happened?”
She shakes her head. “Please, Greg. I just want to go to bed.”
“Did he hurt you?”
She doesn’t answer, and my next breath is nothing but fire, my hand curling into a fist.
“If he hurt you, I swear to God—”
“Mom?”
David’s groggy voice sounds from the living room, and I bite back a curse. I have no choice but to let her go, to step back and put space between us.
David ambles in, stretching and yawning, his hair a mess as he runs a hand through it. He looks at the clock on the microwave. “You’re home earlier than I thought you’d be.” His smile slips when he looks at his mom. “What happened?”
“Nothing. I’m just tired, I asked him to bring me home and he did. And now, I’m going to bed.” She attempts a smile but fails. “Turn off the lights and lock up when you leave, please.”
“You sure you’re alright, Mom?”
“Mm-hmm,” she answers over her shoulder, already trotting up the stairs. “Just too old to be dating.”
She tries to laugh, to sell the joke, but it falls flat.
David chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the fridge to retrieve a water.
My eyes don’t leave Amanda.
Go after her.
The thought is so intense, so consuming that I jerk forward, body moving without waiting for permission from my brain.
She glances over her shoulder at me, her eyes sad, pleading — like she wants me to come after her, too.
But then her eyes flick to her son.
And we both know I can’t.
“You alright, man?” David asks when he shuts the fridge door and leans against it, frowning.
I let out a frustrated breath, closing my eyes before I force myself to turn and walk back into the living room. “I’m good. I’m pretty tired, too, though. Better head home.” I pause. “Actually, why don’t you take me? That way your mom has the car tomorrow if she needs it.”
David yawns, nodding. “Alright, man. Thanks for doing that, by the way. I’m looking at a car this weekend. Hopefully it’ll all be over soon.”
My heart thuds hard in my chest, but I just nod instead of responding.
I fume the entire drive home, knee bouncing, eyes blurring as I watch the lights outside the window with my thoughts tormenting me. I want to know what happened. I want her to talk to me, to let me in, to tell me I don’t need to track down that fucking firefighter and strangle him with a water hose.
I say a quick thank you and goodnight to David when he drops me off, and as soon as I’m in my building, I call Amanda.
But she doesn’t answer.
And I have another sleepless night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
GREG
Amanda ignores me all week.
She doesn’t answer my calls or texts, no matter how I plead with her to. She also wouldn’t accept that I left my car for her. She drove it over Saturday morning, dropped my key at the front desk, and got an Uber home before I could even get downstairs to try to talk to her.
I’ve never felt a week drag on at such a miserable pace, every workday feeling like a year, every sleepless night feeling like an eternity. I debate just driving over to her house several times, but decide I don’t want to be a stalker, nor do I want to disrespect her wishes to be left alone.
David texts me on Friday.
Hey, man, we’re going to kayak at Weeki Wachee Springs tomorrow for Tucker’s birthday. Mom mentioned you’ve never been? I thought maybe you’d like to join.
My heart kicks in my chest.
It may not have been a direct invitation from her, but it was close. It was her mentioning something to David in the hopes that he might mention it to me. It was her remembering that kayaking was the first thing we put on our list.
I’ll take what I can get.
“Shit,” I murmur, staring at the text.
“What?” Stacy asks, looking up from her stack of paperwork. We both needed a change of scenery, so we brought our cases down to the café with us.