Just a Number(86)

She’s silent for a minute, quietly letting everything we’ve discussed sink in before replying softly. “I know this isn’t his fault. I really do get that. I guess I’m just so hurt that he’d completely ignore the fact that both of us are happier than we’ve ever been and not let us explain ourselves. I get that he needs to process our relationship, but wouldn’t it be easier for him to digest if he had all the facts?”

“Ideally, yes,” I reply, running my hand up and down her back, noticing for the first time since we came in out of the rain that we’re both still completely soaked through. “But he’s probably not feeling too rational right now. Which is why we should give him time.”

“How much time?” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper.

“Honestly?” I shrug, uncertain. “I don’t know. As long as it takes, I suppose. He’ll talk to you again.”

Her eyes grow wide with worry, glistening a little. “What about you?”

In truth, I’m not holding out hope that my relationship with Alan is even salvageable at this point. Yes, I want to be able to look back on this as one of those things that brings us closer, but I just don’t see that happening.

Instead of telling Amelia this, I offer her a weak smile and kiss her forehead. “Why don’t we worry about that later, hmm?” She shivers in my arms, and I’m uncertain if it’s because of her cold, wet clothes or the kiss. “Come on,” I add on, “you’ve got to be freezing in those clothes. Let’s get you into something a little warmer.”

She notices how I avoided her question, but she doesn’t press the issue, knowing that it’s got to be hard for me to talk about. “Okay,” she agrees, pushing off my lap and heading to the bathroom where she leaves the door open.

I hear the shower start before she calls me in to join her, and for the first time in the weeks we’ve been together, we shower together without it progressing into anything further. The passion of our relationship still remains, but that connection is deepening as we try to work through the first real crisis we’ve forced ourselves into.

After our shower, we lay on the couch for a couple hours, our bodies dry and warm, huddled beneath the thick down comforter from her bed, and we talk while the TV plays in the background. Some of this talk revolves around Alan, but we’ve exhausted that topic and are just talking in circles, so I try to lighten the mood by talking about the ball the night before.

This makes Amelia smile, and she props her head in her hand. “It really was wonderful. I loved getting all dressed up.”

“That was the highlight of my evening as well,” I tell her with a smirk.

She giggles in response. “When the hell did you turn into such a cheeseball?”

I playfully ponder this for a moment before replying. “I think it was this one weekend in November. I’d recently just escaped thirteen years of hell and had a beautiful young woman help me through it.”

“Well, she sounds amazing,” Amelia quips.

I shrug. “She’s all right, I suppose.”

Laughing so hard she almost snorts, Amelia pushes me—or tries to; it seems all her energy has been expelled into her raucous laughter, and it’s a nice change from just a few hours ago. “Ass!”

I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her to me, flipping her over until her back is pressed against my chest and our bodies are completely aligned. When my lips touch her bare shoulder, she sighs, settling into my embrace and draping her arm over mine as her fingers dance along the back of my hand. “We never really did talk about it,” she whispers.

“What’s that?” I inquire.

“What Gretchen wanted last night.” My silence must worry Amelia, because she shifts in my arms to turn her face toward me. “I know now’s not the most ideal time to talk about her, so we can wait if you’d like…I was just curious is all.”

Offering her a small smile of assurance, I kiss the tip of her nose. “It’s fine. She came to talk to me—something she assured me would have remained civilized—and when she saw I had a ‘plus one,’ she got jealous.”

“She admitted to that?”

I laugh. “Her actions spoke louder than her lack of confession.”

“Okay, that makes a little more sense.” There’s a beat of silence before Amelia speaks again. “What was it she wanted to talk about?”

Sighing, I shake my head. “She told me she refuses to sign the divorce papers until we can work out some kind of financial agreement.”

Amelia’s eyes widen and she sits up. “What? She can’t do that? Can she do that?”