“Semantics, Owen.”
I acquiesce. “You’re right. Regardless of how I phrased it, it never should have happened. But, the truth of the matter is, it did. What I want to know is: why are you so sensitive about it?”
Amelia bites down on her lower lip and cracks her knuckles nervously. It takes her a minute, but eventually she opens up. “Because I am a child, Owen.”
“What?”
Sighing, she rakes her fingers through her hair. “I’m half your age. To everyone your age, I am a child. Even my dad treats me like a child most of the time.”
“No,” I argue. “He treats you like his child. There’s a big difference there.”
“But it doesn’t feel different. Regardless of how often I brush it off, I’m always aware of it, so to have it thrown back in my face hurt.”
I’m not entirely sure how to respond to that. I want to pull her into my arms. I want to kiss away any hurt I caused her this morning, but I know we still have so much to discuss before we get there.
“I want you to know,” she continues, looking disappointed that I haven’t said anything in response to her confession, “that I wouldn’t have danced with just anyone like that. I was drunk, and it was only Justin. If a straight man would have asked me to dance, I’d have turned him away…in fact, I did turn a few guys down, because I didn’t want to dance with anyone but you.” Her eyes hold mine, eyebrows raised with hope. “I love you.”
I can’t help myself from asking, “Then why?”
Her eyes fall to her hands in her lap, and she shrugs. “Like I said, I’d had too much to drink, and while I realize that’s no excuse, it’s all I have. I was upset that you wouldn’t be there, and Justin was trying to cheer me up. He thought dancing was the best way to do that.”
I run a hand over my face, understanding that I am partially to blame for this, but also unsure how to feel about her confession. Truthfully, even with everything we’ve sorted out already, I’m still a little angry and hurt, and I can’t get the image of the two of them pressed together out of my head. Bringing it up triggers my feelings of rage, but I know those feelings stem back to Gretchen. Hopefully that means I’ll be able to overcome it soon.
Do I feel badly for reacting the way I did? Absolutely. But was I unjustified in said reaction? I don’t believe so.
Taking a breath, I try to explain further so she might understand what seeing her dancing like that did to me emotionally. “But, seeing you with him? I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it drove me to the brink of madness. I saw you on the dance floor, and I flashed back to Gretchen cheating on me. I’ve been in a dishonest relationship before, and I’m sorry, but it’s made me a little quick to act first and ask questions later. I know it’s not healthy, and I’m working on it, but you can’t fault me for feeling what I feel.”
Amelia jumps to her feet and walks toward me, her eyes wide and apologetic. “I know,” she says, standing a foot away from me. “It was so stupid, and if I could take it back, I would. I crossed a line I honestly didn’t even know we’d drawn, and I’m sorry for that.”
I hear the sincerity in her voice, but I still don’t think she really understands, so I add on, “I’m well aware that Gretchen has absolutely no place in our relationship, but you have to realize that I have a past. I was married to that woman for a long time, and sometimes I can’t help but remember how she would react to certain situations. This is especially clear when you react differently or even in ways that cause me to flash back to the harder parts of our relationship. Like when I saw another man’s body pressed up against yours, his hands on your hips and thighs, and the lazy smile on your face—the smile you wear after I’ve made you come—it pushed me to the edge, and I suddenly felt…extremely possessive of you. I realize I have no right to feel that way, but the truth is, I do.
“In no way does this mean I’m constantly comparing you to one another—there’s no secret list of pros and cons hidden from you—and it certainly doesn’t mean that I’m holding you down on the same level as her. Our experiences shape us into who we are, Amelia, and I know I’ve developed some pretty fucked up trust issues which cause me to quickly jump to conclusions when it comes to any signs of infidelity—and that’s what seeing you dancing did.”
“I’m sorry,” she says again.
“I know. I am, too.”
“I think having you comparing me to her—”