Chapter 11
11
WHERE THE HELL DID YOU LEARN TO PUNCH LIKE THAT MIKE TYSON JUNIOR?
A melia drops her fork and causes a loud rattle on the metal table at my blatant admission to the latest in family drama.
“I’m not naturally a violent person, but at this moment I want to sucker punch your ex in her throat.” Amelia admits with venom laced words, causing me to choke on my turkey sandwich. Her delicate hand shoots up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just said that. Also, I’m sorry about your ex and brother.”
“Don’t be. I walked into the office and when I passed my brother’s office, there she was,” I probably should’ve stopped there. There was zero point in rehashing my morning, but there’s just something about Amelia that makes me want to open up. “I turned off my phone when their first round of texts came through, but when I turned it back on to text Rob, I saw a slew of other messages. They said that they were trying to wait for the perfect time to tell me, but was there really going to be one? Anyway, the office felt a bit suffocating after that and the only place I could think of to go was…”
“The Garden.” Amelia finishes my sentence because she probably knows, better than anyone, how much that Garden feels like salvation when someone feels suffocated.
I nod in agreement.
“You want to know what the worst part about it was? I wasn’t even all that shocked. I didn’t know it was him when she said there had been someone else, but I wasn’t surprised that he would do something like this. Dysfunctional family at its finest.” I raise my glass of water in cheers before taking a sip. Amelia remains silent for a moment too long. Making me feel a pang of regret at revealing too much. Maybe I’m scaring her off.
She sets her fork down, wipes her mouth with the corner of her napkin, and I’m prepared for her to end this… whatever this is, but then I’m surprised to hear her ask, “wanna get out of here?” A question asked so many times today but always seems to find itself present at the appropriate times.
I grin, replacing my features of melancholy. Agreeing without having to say a word.
Amelia looks around the diner for a head of red hair and waves Valerie down when she sees her walking out of the saloon doors dividing the kitchen from the rest of the diner. Valerie comes with the check and I beat Amelia to it with the help of the sultry wink I offer the waitress in exchange for the upper hand with the bill.
I can see the look in Amelia’s eyes when Valerie opts to take my card instead of hers as I offer her a pleading look with my puppy dog eyes. It screams traitor.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you a woman never pays?” I say as I hand over my credit card .
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that really only applies on dates.”
“Duly noted, Princess.”
I’m not sure why it stings my ego that she implied this isn’t a date. It was never intended to be one. There was a reason why we never exchanged numbers the first night. She doesn’t want to be in a relationship and neither do I. There are boundaries that have to be rebuilt and reinforced after every time she smiles or after every touch from her. I need to remind myself of the walls that need to be there before I completely lose myself over to her.
Don’t cross those lines, not with her.
Once the check is paid, Amelia and I walk out of the restaurant towards my car.
“Do you have a bathing suit?” she asks.
With curious brows raised, “I do, but not under this.” I sweep a hand over my dress pants.
Amelia lets out a giggle, “I figured, but are they close by?”
God, the sound of that laugh.
“About four blocks thatta way,” I hook my thumb in a hitchhiking gesture pointing towards the east side of the city.
“You mean you live, like, two blocks from me?” Amelia asks.
“I sure do, but don’t worry, I’ve lived there for a couple of years now. I didn’t decide to move in there after I walked you home the other night,” I say with both hands up in playful defense.
Amelia rolls her eyes. An act that makes me want to kiss her so deep that defiance is the furthest thing from her mind. I take a small step away from her to refrain from closing the distance and doing just that. “Ok great, first stop. Your swimsuit. Let 's drop off your car, then we can walk to my place afterwards.”
Without asking any questions, I give her a loose two finger salute in acquiescence, not really knowing what the actual plan is but following along anyway.
I’d follow this damn woman off the edge of a cliff blindly if she asks me to.
We pull into the underground garage with a hidden entrance on the opposite block of my building. I maneuver around the cement pillars in a way that has her knuckles turning white around the door handle.
Once I successfully back my car into a spot marked RESERVED, I turn the car off and rush to Amelia’s side to open her door. I offer my hand to help her out of the seat and when she grabs a hold of me, I can’t help but let out a laugh. “Your hands are so clammy.”
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment, “well if you didn’t drive like a bat out of hell I wouldn’t have clammy hands!” She yells in defense.
I continue to laugh at the situation and she unexpectedly clenches her fist and swings at my arm. She must have been as shocked by her own physical outburst as I am because she clasps her two hands over her mouth, stifling the gasp, and muffles an apology. “Ohmygoshimsosorry.”
“I mean, if you’re going to punch someone that hard at least own it, Princess.” I mock while rubbing my probably bruised arm. “Where the hell did you learn to punch like that Mike Tyson junior?”
Amelia takes her bottom lip between her teeth attempting to bite back a laugh at my pain. “I took self-defense classes at the behest of my father when I moved away for college, so putting weight behind a punch has become second natu re to me, but I've never actually struck another person before.”
She’s so embarrassed she can’t seem to remove her clammy hands from her face until I use my fingers to pry her hands away then shake my hands as if to fling off any lingering sweat.
“You’re asking for an uppercut to the throat if you keep that up,” she threatens at my joke. I can’t stop laughing. Amelia shakes her head at my laughter and demands I hurry and get my swimsuit.
I lead her through the parking garage and into the black stone elevator, the complete opposite of the white marble from her building. The elevator stops on the thirty-fifth floor after the quick anti-gravity climb.
I guide her to the second door on the right, unlock and open the ten-foot dark charcoal gray lacquered door surrounded by two illuminating sconces for her. I move to the side to let Amelia walk through before me.