2. Chapter 2
Ames
I wake up confused. I'm sprawled on a bed, but the scent on the comforter is different from what I'm used to.
It smells like Saint's clothes. We don't hug often, but somehow my brain has made sure I remember. It hits me hard how badly I need a hug— or for Saint to hug me? Still confused. I need to be held, regardless, because…
Two blinks later, it all comes back to me at once.
How Aidan got a promo segment on the most watched morning show to talk about his new album.
As the singer for the late night show on the same network, it only made sense for him to spend the night in the office.
The couch in the green room was a perfectly good place to catch a few hours of sleep, he said, since he would have to be back so early.
Like a good girlfriend, I was excited for him.
A true cheerleader, ready to invest in the relationship and his career in every way.
Trying a hundred ideas to show him my support.
Getting up at the crack of dawn to show up at the TV network building where we met a few years ago, when I got a catering contract for the popular late show he sings for.
Surprising him before his promo segment with his favorite sandwich and veggie-fruit juice.
How I froze in SBN's Hello Seattle's hallway, my smile disappearing as I flinched, when Aidan came out of the green room. Giggling with a beautiful blonde. Holding her hand.
Giving her a quick kiss. On the lips.
The memory is a shard of glass boring through my heart.
I close my eyes again as if it will erase everything from my mind.
It doesn't work— I can still remember how I followed them to the studio and everything that happened after.
The spectacle I orchestrated without any plan or fear of the consequences.
Fuck, I should have spared a thought for the consequences.
I cringe and reach for my phone, abandoned on the bedside table before I hid from the world via sleep.
Jo : what the fuck happened? Ames, this is bad
Jo : AMES. Tell me you're okay.
Jo : Amelia Guerrero! Where are you? The only reason I'm not sending a search and rescue team to find you is because I know you're a badass woman who will come out of whatever this is victorious, but I'm so fucking worried that I AM STRESS EATING ALL OF OUR CLIENT'S CUPCAKES
Jo : If I don't hear from you by 4pm, I'm sending the rescue team. Don't test me
I snort. Tears threaten to come out at the multiple texts from my coworker-slash-friend, but I hold them back.
I'm not sure if I'm grateful for her, or if it's because I discovered the man I thought I'd be with forever had been cheating on me.
Until I know, no crying for me. I'll count the times I cry for Aidan, so I never forget what he did to me .
Because, shit, we were buying a house together. I did what I swore I would never do. I moved into my boyfriend's house without a place to come back to, or without enough money to get away if I needed to. All because I believed him when he said we would be together forever.
It made sense, he reasoned. We slept together most nights. I had things in his place. We would be living together soon enough, so why postpone the inevitable?
Then he wrote a song and called it Settled . How romantic, I thought. It was settled— we were settled. Surely it was a sign we were meant to be together forever.
Cracks rip through my heart. Sandpaper fills my throat. My eyes get blurry again, and I stop it once more. Later, I'll let myself cry. Now I need to answer Jo. She's worried and, as my right hand in my personal chef and catering business, I need her help.
Ames : I'm okay. I found a place to crash (I know you don't have the room).
I'll explain everything as soon as I can but this is what we need to focus on right now: 1- don't cater to the show tonight.
We were fired. 2- Can you please keep the ship afloat?
There's a lot I need to figure out. 3- Aidan is an asshole and was cheating on me
I don't wait for Jo's response and get up instead.
I note the private bathroom in the room, and open my suitcase on the floor for now.
I only grabbed essentials before leaving what had been Aidan's bachelor pad.
I take a couple of pills for the headache threatening my skull, and make it to the kitchen with downtrodden steps.
After gulping some water down, I open the fridge and peruse the food. It's the prepped meals I send for Saint and, though it feels strange somehow to eat food I made for him for work, I go ahead and take a chicken and veggie meal and pop it in the microwave .
I lean on the kitchen island, the hum of the microwave the only sound.
My posture is awful, with my shoulders curved inwards and my chin down to my chest, but I don't have the energy to fix it.
What a mess. The TV network was my single largest client.
I can only keep the catering business afloat for a short time, unless I find another big contract.
As much as I enjoy making food and smoothies for Saint and his friends, and as much as they pay well, it's simply not enough to cover the salaries for every person I employ.
The sheer size of the late show meant I doubled my team to keep up.
Without that client, half of my employees will become redundant at the business level.
At the ethical level? I can't imagine firing them.
I need a new big client, stat. A team of ten people depend on me. Hell, I depend on getting a new contract. I don't know what will happen to my career if I can't salvage my business.
All because the man who promised me forever and wrote songs about it couldn't keep it in his pants.
Now I'm back at square one, wondering how something so settled had gone so wrong.
If only I had ever seen a long-term relationship that worked, I might have known what forever love looks like.
As it was, I never learned. My parents divorced before I was ten, only to start on a journey of a hundred one-year-long relationships.
All I got out of it was my mom's 'be free, Amelia,' and my dad's ' relationships are a trap.
' Only I decided to use my freedom to be different from them.
I would find a relationship that would be good to me.
I would never make the mistakes they did.
Except I did. I missed the signs with Aidan. Somewhere, somehow, I failed at making the relationship work, and I have no idea how. Now I'm in the dark again, not knowing what I did wrong or how to make it right one day with someone else.
Who knows. With my history, maybe I never had a chance at a happily ever after. My love story with Aidan had checked all the boxes, and followed every beat of the script. And yet here I am, in my brother's friend's fancy condo, crying over a man who didn't think that was enough.
I allow myself a few tears. Okay, fine, it's many of them.
They run down my face and drip down my chin when I glance up at the ceiling.
It makes this the second time I cry about Aidan.
The first was right after I confronted him in plain view of producers and morning news anchors and other guests.
At least, the way I reacted, with everyone looking at us in shock, I'm one hundred percent confident he hated it.
Because I said my piece at the top of my lungs, not caring who heard— wanting everyone to listen to every word.
I gave him his sandwich and smoothie in a dramatic fashion, and left. Bawled on the way out.
The embarrassment must have killed him inside.
Good. He deserved it.
With that thought, I dry my face and take the food out of the microwave. It's only when I place the container on the kitchen island that I see the note.
Ames-
I'm sorry I have to go. Anything you need, this is Evie's number. I didn't want to text you now so you can sleep. I didn't know if your notifications were on. Please check in with Evie later. She'll let me know.
In any case, I will let the concierge know you're staying here. Below are the codes you can use if you need to go out— the code Pablo gave you will get you up the elevator, but the new one will get you in here. I'll make a key for you asap.
We'll talk later.
- Saint
PS: I'm glad you came here.
Saint's kindness has me crying again, but I can accept these tears. They fall softly, leaving cold trails that dry up fast.
When my brother left Seattle for work, the two friends agreed that Saint would be there for me. He has been in a hundred small ways, but I had never needed him like this. Not to this degree, at least.
I make myself eat the food. It's a damn good easy dish, if I do say so myself. Despite my loss of appetite and my grayed out senses, I can still make out the depth of flavor that butter and spices added to the food.
My relationship with Saint is a bit strange. When I met him back in college, he was already the popular athlete dating his way through the school. Friendly and self-assured, confident and unassumingly hot, all he had to do was flash those dimples and he got whatever he wanted.
If he had ever directed that smile at me and suggested he wanted something more, I would have given him anything he wanted, too.
But he didn't, and he dated ten times as many people as I did.
Which, good for him, I suppose. It never made sense to be jealous.
Not that I was. Even back then it was clear we weren't compatible that way.
At some point in college, I heard him say he wasn't looking for commitment.
Meanwhile, commitment is all I ever wanted.
All we could have was a quick something that might have been spectacular, but not what I was looking for.
Besides, I'm pretty sure he sees me more like his friend's little sister, rather than someone he could have fun with then bake something for. He's never made a move, and has seemed happy to quietly help me out when I need it.
The least I can do is do as he asked. I sit at the kitchen island, the food in front of me, and I check in with Evie.
Ames : Hey Evie, this is Ames. Saint gave me your number and asked to check in. I'm okay, but I'm sorry for getting you involved in this
Evie : It's all good! I'm glad Saint involved me. I know you and I have barely spent time together so far, but I'm happy to help with this.
Ames : I'll be okay. I swear Saint thinks he's my big brother, the way he worries about me.
Except my secret is, I couldn't ever see him like a sibling.
Especially not when, only a few hours ago, I saw him wearing nothing but boxers and his jewelry.
Even through the fog of my catastrophic early morning, that image is seared into my brain.
The chain, the glint of his earring, the long, muscled lines of his body.
One day soon, I'll get to delight in the memory. But not today.
Evie : Mhh, well, I'll let him know you're okay. He'll be happy to hear it. Oh, and anything you need, even if it's just a chat, let me know. I may have seen a clip going around about you this morning.
Shit! Did someone record everything? At least they can't fire me twice.
Ames : Thank you, Evie. I appreciate it.
I don't make it far into my search on social media when I get the link from Jo.
Jo : YOU THREW A SMOOTHIE ON HIS HEAD RIGHT BEFORE HE WENT ON THE MORNING SHOW?
Uhm, yes. When I said I had given him the smoothie and the sandwich? I may have underplayed it.
Ames : in my defense, I wasn't thinking they'd fire me for it
It seemed completely worth it at the time.
Rage ran in my veins, and I moved without making a conscious decision.
With one hand, I dumped the large smoothie on his head and shoulders, like it was an ice bucket and I wanted him to freeze and shiver.
Cower in response, maybe. With the other, I pushed the sandwich onto his shirt and smeared it.
Mustard, it turns out, stands out against blue fabric. Artistic moves, really.
I finish eating and decide a shower will help. The rain showerhead I peeked at earlier will wash my hurt away. If a new set of tears escapes me, at least I won't notice.
With morose movements, I aim for the guestroom.
Saint's door, right next to mine, is ajar.
It tempts me, winks at me, while I'm on my way back to the guestroom.
He may have said I'm welcome to snoop if I need anything, but this feels wrong.
I may be curious about him and the kind of things he gets up to in there, but the devil on my shoulder gets heard only once a day.
I ruined Aidan's gorgeous curls with a wet-and-sticky mix of oatmeal, berries, and almond milk, after all.
Right before he joined the show to promote his latest album.
It's plenty to satisfy the red little rascal.
Even now, a part of me delights in how it dripped down his amazing hair, streaming down his torso and plopping down on the floor. The hundred eyes staring at us in shock. The gasps. The anger electrifying my nerves.
I turn into what will be my space for an undetermined amount of time and go straight into the bathroom. Despite the emotional nicks and bruises weighing me down, nothing can erase the satisfaction of ruining Aidan's promo segment.
It probably says a lot about me and the things I didn't really feel for him, that a moment of rebellion puts a small smile on my face.
As the water cascades down my body, I cross my fingers that it will be enough to keep me composed. I have too much I need to figure out to crumble.