I pull her into my arms, holding her tight to my body and tucking her head under my chin. “I do,” I assure her. “And I know that your desire to fix everything is strong, but believe me when I say that the silent treatment is far better than the alternative.”
“Yeah, I know,” she breathes, winding her arms around me. She tilts her face toward mine and offers me a small smile. “You hungry?” I nod once and Amelia pulls free of my arms, turning back to the food. “I know it’s not really breakfast fare, but there’s no steadfast rule that you have to have bacon and eggs or French toast for breakfast, right?”
Chuckling, I grab plates and cutlery. “Food is food,” I agree, my stomach rumbling.
“Why don’t you go wash up,” she suggests, “and I’ll heat the food.”
It only takes me a few minutes to do my morning routine, and by the time I make it back out to the kitchen, Amelia’s got our food ready. Since the only plans we had for the day were originally to take Alan out to brunch to tell him the truth about us, we’re uncertain what to do with ourselves.
“What do you say we go see an afternoon movie and then go out to dinner?” I suggest, hoping that it will help keep our minds off everything that’s happened.
For the first time since last night, I see that excited glimmer return to Amelia’s eyes and she smiles genuinely. “You mean, like a real date?”
I chuckle, swallowing a bite of chow mien. “Yeah. Exactly like a real date.”
“That sounds nice.”
After we finish eating, we clean up the kitchen together, and then Amelia makes the bed. I’m about to suggest she get ready so we can stop by my condo before the movie to allow me to change—I really don’t want to go to the theater in my tux from the ball. Before I can say anything, though, there’s a knock at Amelia’s door that catches us both off guard.
It takes Amelia a minute, but then something registers in her eyes: hope. It’s entirely possible her dad’s come back to talk to us, and it’s obvious that this is what she thinks has happened as she bolts for the door. I stand back and hold my breath as she pulls the door open, but neither of us expects who actually stands behind it.
23. Lean on Me
“Liz?” I’m a little stunned to see her standing here in my doorway. I don’t know why, but I honestly thought that maybe it was my dad at the door. “What are you doing here?”
She’s positively beaming—and really, really tanned. “I just flew in an hour ago. I wanted to come by and see you! How was the party?” She pulls me into her arms, crushing me to her.
Then she freezes, and I know she’s spotted Owen.
Slowly, she releases me, and I see her eyebrows pull together in confusion before they move upward, hiding behind her wispy bangs. “Wait…” She’s putting everything together, and it’s like I can visualize each piece as it falls into place in her mind—the time I fessed up to seeing someone, how that relationship was “complicated,” Owen showing up at school that day I was all mopey and giving me a ride home, and the secrecy and why I didn’t tell even her.
Clearing his throat, Owen pushes his chair from the island counter and stands up. Liz’s eyes don’t leave him, and unlike the look in my dad’s eyes, I actually see her acceptance behind her shock. This relieves me, because I don’t know how I’d handle losing her too.
“I’ll give you ladies a moment alone to catch up,” he says, approaching us and picking up his suit jacket off the back of the couch.
“Wh-where will you go?” I ask, not to control his every move, but because I want to be sure he’s going to come back. These last twenty hours have been taxing on both of us, and I still worry it might pull us apart. I don’t want this, obviously, but I’m not naive enough to ignore the slight strain it’s already put on our relationship.
He takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “To my apartment. I’ll grab a change of clothes and then come right back. That should give you ladies a little over an hour, and then maybe we can catch that movie?”
I release a sigh of relief and nod, smiling. “Perfect.”
Before he leaves, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my lips, and all the while Liz is watching this, her jaw slightly agape with shock and awe. Owen says his goodbyes, to which she mumbles something incoherent in return, and then he closes the door behind him.
Her head moves from the door to me, then back a few more times before she breaks out into a smile and pulls me toward the couch. “Tell. Me. EVERYTHING!” she exclaims, and I revel in her giddy reaction for a moment before remembering that not everyone was this accepting when they first found out.