18. Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Eighteen
Parker
Where is she?
I drum my fingers on the table at the café, waiting for Amy to show up. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not late. I’m here fifteen minutes early.
I didn’t want her to be waiting for me.
But now my nerves are fried.
Staring at my phone, I look back on our text messages, mostly mundane with funny memes—or me asking her how she’s feeling ... including the text that she never responded to. It bothered me at first.
Until I reminded myself that it shouldn’t. Because despite how perfectly she fit in my arms when I carried her off the ice, or how naturally stunning she looked fresh-faced in her flannel pajamas, it doesn’t change the fact that we’re just friends.
Besides, she was probably just busy at work. I know she misses messages while she’s in the zone.
I do, too.
I rub my jaw and lock my phone screen.
I really need to get these feelings under control .
Because at the end of the day, even if I did like Amy, it’s not like I can give her the steady, long-term relationship that she’s looking for. And the last person she needs to get involved with is someone who can’t commit. Someone who’s afraid to put their heart on the line. Someone like ... me.
But it’s okay, because I’m pretty certain I’m destined to be forever alone.
Right?
I look up and spot Amy steadily limping toward the table. She looks just as gorgeous as always, and for all the times I’ve heard about a person being described as someone who lights up a room...
Yeah, that’s Amy.
“Hey,” she greets, sliding into the seat across from me. “How’s your day been?”
“It’s been good. We’re working on some new software, but I think it’s a waste of time. I hate it when we duplicate a program that’s already been made and then try to one-up the original creator.”
She nods. “I get that. Happens all the time, though. ”
“Yeah, for sure. I got you a water,” I point to the glass in front of her. “I got here early.”
“Thanks.” She smiles. “That was sweet of you.”
I freeze at the comment.
That was sweet of me?
Since when does she say stuff like that to me?
“Yeah, well, I just didn’t want you to be jealous that I already have something to drink,” I say stupidly.
She chuckles. “Whatever you say, Parker. I was just thanking you for the water. You don’t have to make it weird.”
“I’m just being a good friend . You’re the one being weird.”
She makes a face that causes me to cringe. “What’s up with you today? Are you mad because I forgot to text you back the other day and let you know for the hundredth time that I’m fine? Because I was in the middle of a meeting, and your message popped up on my screen—and I’m not used to you ever keeping up with me.”
Whoa, that was loaded.
“No. I don’t care that you didn’t text me back,” I snap, grabbing up my water. “And sorry for caring about your ankle. It’s just that ... you live in the city alone, and you know ... you can’t really get around all that well right now, so I—”
“I don’t need you to worry about—”
“I’m not worried,” I cut her off. “I just wanted to make sure that you were getting to work and wherever else safely. ”
“Okay, then,” she quips, her eyes falling to her phone that’s now in her hands. “I guess since I’m half gimpy, you’ll have to accompany me to Matchmakers in Heaven tomorrow night.”
My stomach knots up. “What the heck is that? Do they pair you with a dead person?”
She rolls her eyes. “Jeez, that’s not morbid at all. It’s a matchmaking event that requires attendees to fill out a detailed questionnaire, and then they pair you with someone they think you’ll get along with the best. I was thinking we could do it together.”
“So, you already signed me up?”
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I’ll text you the link to the questionnaire.”
“But what if they put us together?” I blurt out, wishing I hadn’t.
She looks up from her phone just as mine chimes with the notification. “What if they do?”
I hold her gaze. “Then, I guess I’ll have to actually claim you as my good friend.”
Her lips turn downward and she sighs. “What an honor.”
Man, and she said I was the one acting weird. She must not be having a great day or something.
“How was work this morning?” I change the subject, ignoring the link she just sent me.
“Um.” She pauses. “It was fine. I just have a lot on my mind right now.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” She avoids my gaze, and I can’t decide if that’s because whatever is on her mind is my fault or she just doesn’t feel like sharing. No matter the reason, I’m relieved when the waitress interrupts us to take our order.
Amy remains joyful as she speaks with the blonde waitress, and I’m left feeling confused.
Is she happy with everyone but me?
Or did I mess something up when she came in?
Friends or not, this is why women are so freaking difficult.
“How’s Britt doing?”
“What?”
Amy shakes her head at me. “I was asking about your sister. How is she? She said she’d be staying with you for a while. Is she still living with you?”
“Oh, yeah.” I nod. “She’s good. She found a place, actually. So she’s moving out tomorrow. And as much as I love my sister, I’m ready for her to leave. I’ve missed having my own space over the past two weeks. She makes a mess of everything.”
She pauses. “So, where do you live again?”
“NoHo,” I answer, just as my phone vibrates.
Her mouth drops open. “NoHo?! I thought you said you lived near me!”
Oh, shoot. I completely forgot about that.
“I do...”
“No, you don’t,” she says, exasperated. “That means you went in the complete opposite direction that night you walked me home.”
I shrug, feeling caught. “I like walking.”
She narrows her eyes. “That’s it? ”
Swallowing hard, I rack my brain. Why did I walk her home? “I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. You were brand new to New York City and—”
“And you felt sorry for me.” Her voice drops. “Gosh, that’s so embarrassing.”
“I never said that.”
“It’s fine,” Amy mutters, her shoulders slumping for a moment—but then she perks up. “You know, it’s exactly three weeks until my birthday ... and Valentine’s Day. That’s still enough time to win the bet.”
I lean back in the booth. “Yeah? Well, I’ll tell you right now, I still think you’re gonna lose—even with this fancy questionnaire setup you’ve found.”
She laughs. “You can think that all you want, but I’m not giving up.”
“I don’t expect you to give up.” I smile when her eyes light up. The waitress comes by and sets our food down in front of us, and I pluck a French fry up, popping it into my mouth. “So ... are you an only child?”
Amy purses her lips. “Yeah. My parents tried for a baby after me for years, but it never happened.”
“Ah, but I bet you’re spoiled,” I tease, ignoring my phone as it continues to go off. I silence it. It’s lunchtime, and there’s no reason to take work calls right now.
“Kind of. Maybe in some ways I was,” Amy begins, her expression thoughtful as she picks up a fry of her own. “They didn’t have a lot of money. It wasn’t until I was in high school that my dad got a big promotion. That really changed things for my parents.”
“Did his promotion ever make things tense at home?” I don’t know why I’m so curious about it, but the pictures ... they just seem too good to be true.
“Not really. I mean, everyone fights. My parents fought, but I don’t remember what it was about—and they rarely argued in front of me. They’ve been together for almost thirty-seven years.”
My stomach knots up. “That’s a long time to put up with someone.”
“They just kept choosing to love each other.”
“I’m sure there were moments they didn’t.” My words sound more bitter than intended.
But maybe that’s because I’m bitter. Considering my parents were never able to resolve their differences, we’re all still suffering the consequences today.
Amy makes a face. “Maybe. But then they chose to forgive each other. I don’t think it’s all that complicated to make something last. You just have to keep choosing each other, no matter how you feel.”
“Look at you with all that deep advice.” I pick up a chicken strip and take a bite.
She shakes her head. “I don’t really have great advice. I don’t even know what I’m doing when it comes to relationships, obviously. I can’t even find a boyfriend and I’ll be thirty in three weeks.”
“Yeah, so? You worry too much about that stuff. Being single isn’t all that bad. ”
“Ugh. My parents already had me by the age of thirty.”
“So?” I meet her gaze. “My parents were already divorced by the time they were my age—with two kids. In fact, my mom had already been married and divorced twice ... And you know what, I still have no idea why she put herself through all of it—and continues to do so. It would have been so much easier for everyone involved if she would’ve just stayed single instead of jumping from one failed relationship to another.”
“Maybe she just wants to find the right person.”
“You’ll never find the right person if you’re willing to throw someone away at the first sign of trouble. That’s always been her problem. She always thinks some guy is gonna come along and save her, and sure, it starts out that way, but the moment he messes up—I mean, like forgets something at the store—she’s done. She says she doesn’t have to put up with anything less than perfect.”
Amy nods. “I’m sorry ... it must’ve been rough growing up with that kind of instability.”
“It was. My parents were always fighting about money or custody or something. I never knew if I was coming or going, and I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just get along like other families. Add on the fact that my mom would bring these guys around and try to pass them off as another father figure ... it was just a cycle of disappointment every time they left.”
Amy’s expression is sympathetic as she listens to my words, and for a moment, I feel a pang of vulnerability at having shared such intimate details about my past with her .
“I can’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been for you. But what about your dad? What’s he like?”
I hesitate, carefully choosing my answer. “He’s ... angry. Maybe bitter. I don’t know. He also had his fair share of failed relationships, and he worked a painstaking manual labor job for over a decade. He was working his way up with the goal of moving us out of the neighborhood we lived in, but then he got cancer.”
Amy gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Parker.”
“Oh, it’s okay, he’s fine now. He’s been in remission for nearly ten years,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“Oh, good. Okay. Well, it sounds like you and your family have been through a lot...”
“My life certainly wasn’t easy growing up, but I have a solid one now. I finally have the stability that I so desperately needed as a kid.”
She nods, but then stops. “But what about love? Don’t you want to love and be loved by someone?”
I shrug. “I am loved. I have great friends. I guess I’m just not convinced I need anything more than that. All the relationships I’ve ever witnessed are toxic and end in heartbreak—love never seems to work out. Look at my sister.”
“But look at my parents.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, and that’s great for them, and for you. It sounds like they were two really great people who didn’t give up on each other. Which is awesome, but rare. I mean, the chances of finding that kind of love are slim. ”
“But not impossible.” Amy grins, waggling her eyebrows. “Tell me there’s some part of you that’s not a complete cynic. Because I’m willing to bet on that sliver of a chance that we’ll both find the right person.”
I grimace. “Yeah, maybe, but there’s no way it’s happening before Valentine’s Day. So, you might as well just plan on accompanying me to that jazz concert. I’ll make sure I at least get you a birthday card or something to lessen the blow.”
She bursts into a fit of laughter. “Yeah, right. You’re gonna be buying those VIP tickets for me and my boyfriend. I know it.”
I take a deep breath. “No way.”
“Yep.” She shoots me a wink that makes my heart stutter. “In fact, why don’t we go ahead and fill out that matchmaking questionnaire right now? I dare ya.”
“Fine,” I mutter, swooping up my phone. I click on the link and start through the questions, carefully answering them to the best of my ability. They’re mostly fundamental things like, Are you religious? Or, What are your hobbies?
And as I type in my answers, glancing over at a smiling Amy, I wonder what she’s typing in the blanks.
Is there a chance that we will get paired up again? Or will someone else be her “match made in heaven”?
My stomach tightens at the idea of her paired up with someone else. But I push it away.
They’ll never put us together.
And for some reason, that makes my heart sink.