Chapter 22
22
ARE THERE MARGARITAS INVOLVED? IF SO, I’M BUSY FOREVER
T he next day, I arrive at Little Bites Café , a small boutique coffee shop Lauren, Sam, and I normally meet at, on the third Sunday of the month, for coffee and croissants. The older we get, the busier life gets, but this is a tradition we’ve never let go of.
I’m first to show up so I grab our usual table closest to the pastry window. I’m not sure how long I’ll be kept waiting since, when Riley and I left the club last night, Lauren and Sam were only a handful of shots away from making their table a stage to dance on. I had decided a quick exit before they pulled me into their drunken shenanigans would be my best chance of waking up relatively sober this morning.
Plus I needed to keep my wits about me. I was already so close to kissing Riley, the thought now of how close his lips were to mine makes my cheeks burn crimson with embarrassment. I wanted so badly to reach up to kiss him, to know what it would feel like to kiss him.
He had played the part of my doting boyfriend perfectly. My friends were smitten with him, it was so believable I almost started to forget it was an act, b ut I can’t deny the feeling of smoldering flames low in my belly when our bodies were connected. I just wasn’t sure if he felt any of the same or maybe because it’s been so long since I’d been touched it was my body’s natural reaction to it and had nothing to do with Riley.
But he had to have felt something, right? I heard it in the way he practically growled in my ear last night when I was pressed against his that I could literally feel his attraction for me. However, that was short lived when he readjusted my body away from his. I shouldn’t read into any of this. I shake my head as if the motion can physically shake these thoughts away.
This was an arrangement and nothing more. I will scuff out any kindling of feelings before it catches fire and consumes me in its inevitable firestorm. Riley Anderson isn’t looking for anything and neither am I.
This was the deal.
My thoughts start to stray into what if territory.
What if he felt something?
What if it could be real?
What. fucking. If.
The sound of bells above the café door pulls me out of my momentary fantasy of more and brings me back to reality. I spot the two zombie-like females that resemble Sam and Lauren walking in with sunglasses covering what were probably bloodshot eyes. Exactly what I needed to stop the daydreaming of what could be with Riley.
“You guys look like hell.”
My two friends whimper in unison. It takes thirty minutes of caffeine intake and half a dozen croissants shared between the three of us before my friends morph back into a semblance of their normal selves.
“So,” Sam purrs. “Riley.” Eying me with skepticism over her cup as she takes a sip of her latte.
Lauren’s larger than life smile showcases the same intrigue into that same topic.
“Riley.” I say back flatly. This is the part where I am supposed to really sell the whole arrangement but these are my best friends. They know me better than anyone else. Could I really fool them into thinking I was in a real life relationship with Riley?
“Oh really? You’re just going to sit there and pretend this is just some casual fling? I’ve never seen anyone, much less you, look so–”
“You guys looked like you were going to take off each other’s clothes on the dance floor.” Lauren interrupts before Sam inevitably makes a comment that could get us thrown out of this establishment.
“We did not!” I whisper-yell defensively.
My two friends eye one another and smile. “You don’t need to be embarrassed, Amy. If I had someone like Riley look at me the way he looks at you, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from–”
“What she means is,” Lauren interrupts Sam again with a glare. “He looks like he really cares about you. He literally couldn’t take his eyes off of you all night.”
“You make it sound like he’s a stalker.” I reply with a laugh.
“No, not even close,” Lauren defends. “It was like… there was a string that bound you two together. Where you were, his eyes would follow. Not in a creepy way but in a…” she hesitates trying to find the right words, “protective way. Like if he weren’t near you, he still needed to be watching out for you. It was actually very romantic.”
I try not to read into what Lauren is saying too much. None of it was real and I need to keep reminding mysel f that. “Yeah. I suppose so.”
In some ways, I know he does care about me. He shows it in the way he cheers me up after a bad day of work or how we can just be in the same room with each other and exist peacefully. We’ve grown such an unlikely friendship since we met and that warrants some caring, but I need to remind myself, that the romantic part of it, that was all part of the plan. He’s playing a role and it seems to have worked. I won’t read into it more than I should.
“Are you happy, Amy?” Lauren asks with sincerity in her eyes.
What a loaded question. What is supposed to be the most convenient, easy going agreement is causing me to question my feelings for Riley and I need to put those thoughts aside especially since last night was probably nothing. The whole point of the agreement is for my friends to stop with the matchmaking if they believe I’ve found my perfect match. Which is currently working.
So, I will pretend. Even if my heart isn’t so sure which part I’m playing at anymore. “Very.” I say calmly with a fake smile plastered on my face. The expression is the complete opposite of how I’m feeling inside.
Satisfied with my answer, Lauren angles to face Sam to ask about what she wants to do for her birthday. Another little tradition we have. We celebrate as a large group if anyone wants but we always carve out time to celebrate with just the three of us. Sometimes we’d take a short weekend trip to the beach or the mountains, or sometimes we just have a girl’s night at one of our homes.
“I’m thinking since the weather has been so nice lately, we should just spend the night at Amy’s place?” Sam turns to me. “What night works for you?”
“Um, any night excep t Thursday this week.” I answer.
Curious eyes stare back at me. “What’s Thursday?”
“It’s Riley’s birthday actually. I was planning on taking him out to celebrate.” Sam and Lauren’s eyes grow wide with excitement, “just us.” My friends’ excitement deflates as fast as it came to life. I ignore their sighs of disappointment. “I haven’t figured out what to do yet.”
The excitement from them that simmered a moment ago comes roaring back to life when the opportunity to help plan the perfect birthday evening for two presents itself. We sit sipping our lattes and pick at a few pastries as plans for a perfect night unfold.
The three of us wrap up breakfast turned brunch when we feel satisfied with what we’ve come up with to surprise Riley for his birthday. I’m grateful they don’t question me why I shut down any mention of lingerie as part of the surprise. Probably because they think it’s going to be a normal date that will probably end in sex anyway without having to plan for it, but for me, it’s just two friends hanging out for one of our birthdays and nothing more.
I leave the café to run my usual Sunday errands.
Usual errands that should’ve included visiting my parents. Something I haven't done in years. The thought of how much I miss the way things used to be between me and my father makes my chest ache. I know the choice to step out of my father’s shadow and into my own career wasn’t going to go over smoothly but I never expected to feel so alienated.
Granted, it was an alienation of my choice. My parents never actually told me to never come home, I decided that on my own since they couldn’t seem to support the choice I made for myself, but it doesn’t hurt any less.
The memory of the last Sunday we were together as a family, when our relationship had taken a turn for the worst, always brings a wave of sadness crashing into me.
“I got a job at Atlas Technologies.” I say with a mixture of excitement at my new opportunity and trepidation at my father’s reaction.
Daniel Thatcher has a plan for life. Not just his. Everyone in his life. Especially for me, his only daughter, and he does not take well to anyone derailing those carefully laid out plans.
“What do you mean ,” his words emphasizing his wrath, “you got a job at Atlas Technologies?” His brows furrow. Anger and frustration evident.
“It means that I applied for a job, they offered me the position, and I accepted.” I say as calmly as possible. Although, I’m sure he will take it as condescension since I am stating the obvious of what it means to get a job somewhere.
“You already have a job,” he says with no emotion. “We had a plan. You were supposed to take over Thatcher Inc. That’s what we’ve been working towards all these years.” The fury in his voice becomes more palpable with each word.
“No daddy. You had a plan. I was just along for the ride.” My words are laced with defiance.
“What has gotten into you? This is not the daughter that we raised.” He turns to look at my mother, who’s remained quiet during the exchange, waiting for her to take a stand and back him up.
Corina Thatcher, a storm of a woman in her own right, the silent partner behind Thatcher Inc.’s successful growth. My father’s usual voice of reason, has decided without saying a word that this is not a situation she will put herself in the middle of, leaving us to deal with it on our own.
Realizing that his wife is going to remain neutral and be of no help to his cause, he turns back to me. “Ever since you were a little girl, you have wanted this. You’ve sat in every quarterly board meeting since you were twelve. You were always meant t o take over Thatcher. The girl I raised would’ve never turned her back on her family.” A sliver of hurt crosses his eyes and squeezes at me but I know this is not the time to back down.
“That’s right daddy, the girl ,” putting more emphasis on the word girl than necessary, “is no longer that. I am not your little girl anymore. I am an adult. If I stay at Thatcher, I will always be the little girl that sat in those board meetings like it’s ‘bring your daughter to work’ day. Not the woman seen serious enough to be running them. I would be forced to live in your shadow. The girl that became C.E.O. because I was born Amelia Thatcher. Daughter of Daniel and Corina Thatcher. No one will ever look at me like they do you. I will always be lucky . Never respected. A C.E.O. by birth, not by hard work or reputation.” My heart’s beating so hard in my chest I swear bruising will soon mar my skin.
“So, that’s it. You’re afraid of what people will think?” My father’s voice drops down to an almost whisper, “you’re throwing everything we’ve worked hard for away because of how people will view you?”
I feel a twinge of guilt at his words. My reasoning sounds childish when he summarizes everything I said in this one sentence, but I know the whispers would eat at me every day.
Neither of us says a word for what feels like an eternity until he finally breaks the silence.
“I’m so disappointed in you Amy. The daughter I raised had the fire of her mother. The woman, as you call yourself,” waving his hand at me from head to toe, “standing in front of me, has the fear of a little girl. Cowering in a corner to make herself smaller so a few rumors that mean nothing won’t surface.” With that, his head shakes disapprovingly as he walks out of the room. Taking my mother with him.
Disappointed.
I had never heard m y father utter those words about me.
I had been his shining star in everything up until this moment.
I leave my parent’s estate devastated. Unable to enjoy a job I thought would bring me so much pride. A job I earned on my own. A job I can crawl to the top with my own merits. A job that now felt like a betrayal to my father’s legacy.
Needing to distract myself from the memory before sadness consumes me more than it already has, I pull out my phone to text the one person lately that seems to always make me feel better regardless of the situation.
Amelia
Busy on Thursday?
Riley
Depends. Are there margaritas involved? If so, I’m busy forever.
Amelia
You’re annoying.
Amelia
Are you busy or not?
I tap my screen impatiently as Riley’s text thread shows three blinking dots that appear and reappear a total of four times before I receive a reply.
Riley
No plans.
I try not to let it annoy me that it had taken him three too many tries before sending that generic of a response.
Amelia
Want any?
Riley
You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that before I agree, Princess. ??
I can practically feel the insinuation through the phone. Heat flares in my core at where my mind races to. We never set a predetermined length of time that our arrangement would last, but I know that no matter what the time frame is, it’s too long. I haven’t even made it a week into this deal before I’m already second guessing my own ability to control my emotions and apparently my hormones.
“I’m in trouble,” I mumble to myself as I reply as nonchalantly as possible. Grateful it’s a text message and not a conversation in person. I can hide my not so clean thoughts of him this way.
Amelia
Meet me at our Garden at seven pm Thursday?
Riley
I’ll be there. Dress code?
Amelia
Jeans. Casual.
Riley
See you then .