Chapter 12
12
Amelia
My week doesn’t go from bad to worse as it wears on, but it certainly doesn’t go from bad to good.
On Wednesday afternoon, the day after my day drinking episode, I get stuck in a long meeting with my lawyer and agent. Just after two p.m., I realize I’m nowhere near close to being finished and that I won’t make it to school on time to collect Sarah. Since I don’t want to ask James for help, I open my phone to text Shayla and Gage to see which of them has Luna tonight and whether they can help me out.
The second I open my messages, I’m reminded that Gage texted me this morning and that his text remains unanswered. The mortification I feel over my behavior yesterday flares again, just like it did when I woke up and found his text.
Not only did I mess up his schedule by forgetting our meeting, but I also said a lot of things to him. A lot . And although some of it’s hazy, I remember most of it.
He was a gentleman about it all and got me home safely. But God knows what he thinks of me now.
I push my embarrassment down so I can find someone to pick Sarah up.
Gage:
How are you feeling after yesterday?
Me:
Hey, sorry I haven’t had a chance to reply. I wasn’t too bad this morning. Just a slight headache. I actually have a favor to ask. I can’t get to Sarah in time for pickup. Do you have Luna tonight?
Gage:
Yeah. I can grab Sarah too.
Me:
You’re a lifesaver! Thank you.
I go back and forth in my mind over sending him another text with an apology for yesterday, but in the end, I have to put my phone away and get back to my meeting.
It’s almost four by the time I get to Gage’s building, and by then I’m a walking ad for overwhelm, poor life management, and total disarray.
I walk into the lobby, the tall glass doors whispering shut behind me. The space is all muted luxury with its sleek stone, matte black accents, and low lighting that makes it feel more like a private gallery than a residential building.
The doorman spots me from behind the curved marble desk and smiles in recognition. He taps something on the embedded touch panel in the desk and greets me. “Good afternoon, Ms Sinclair. Mr. Black’s on his way up. I’ll let him know you’re joining him.”
“On his way up?” I thought he was already home.
He nods and gestures toward the elevators. “Yes.”
Right. That explained everything.
His arm stays extended, a quiet prompt to head for the elevator bank.
“Thank you,” I say and make my way over.
A moment later, Gage’s private elevator opens, and he’s standing inside. His intense gaze settles on me, and it feels like his eyes hold a thousand questions. But that could just be me. Maybe I’m overthinking all of this.
“Hey,” I say a little breathlessly as I join him. My fingers are instantly in my hair, running through it the way they do when I’m nervous. “I thought you would already be home.” I thought I’d have this elevator ride to gather myself before having to see him and face my embarrassment over yesterday.
The elevator doors close as he says, “I got caught at work. Shirley collected the girls.” His nanny.
I nod, still feeling like my lungs hold barely any oxygen. “Right.”
God, this is awkward.
When he doesn’t say anything, I rush to fill the silence. “Thank you.” My words come out too fast. And go nowhere. And there’s still not enough oxygen inside me. My gaze darts to the doors in front of me as I listen to the quiet hum of the elevator going up. Only for a second, and then I force my eyes back to Gage. “For helping me out, I mean. Today, that is.”
He’s watching me intently. Too intently. It makes me feel naked. This man sees far too much, and I want to pull a thousand curtains between us so he can’t see anything.
“Amelia,” he starts, but the elevator lurches, stopping all conversation.
There’s a hard, mechanical thud, and then a sudden stop that throws me off balance.
I reach a hand to the wall to steady myself. “Did it just...”
“Yeah,” Gage says, already stepping forward and pressing the panel. He taps a few buttons. Nothing lights up. I hear him curse softly before hitting the call button.
A moment later, a robotic voice says, “Emergency call initiated. Assistance will arrive shortly.”
Shit .
I’m not claustrophobic, but I suddenly feel like I am as my anxiety rises.
“You okay?” Gage asks.
I nod, trying to ignore my inner spiral. “Totally fine.”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Liar.”
I let out a breath that’s also half a laugh. “Okay, not fine . But I’m trying not to panic.”
A soft chime sounds and then a crisp voice comes through the speaker.
“Mr. Black? Tony here. Just letting you know we’ve flagged the elevator issue. Maintenance is en route. They’re saying twenty minutes.”
Gage steps closer to the panel. “Thanks, Tony.”
“I’ll keep you updated, Sir.”
The line clicks off with a soft beep.
I exhale through my nose. “Twenty minutes.”
“That’s worst case.”
“Yeah, well, worst case is me dying in here and them finding my body in twenty minutes.”
His lips twitch. “I think you’ll survive.”
I press my back against the wall. “You clearly underestimate my talent for internal collapse.”
All traces of humor disappear from his face, and he holds my gaze with quiet assurance. “Amelia. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
I nod, but don’t answer. Instead, I focus on my breath.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Again.
My palms are damp, so I press them against the cool wall behind me. Close my eyes for a moment.
Four counts in.
Hold.
Four counts out.
My heart’s still jumpy, but the buzzing under my skin starts to fade. Not gone, but manageable.
I open my eyes and look at Gage. He’s back to watching me with that intense focus. “I’m okay.”
“Maybe we should sit,” he suggests as he shrugs out of his suit jacket and undoes the top couple of buttons of his shirt. He doesn’t appear rattled by any of this.
I, on the other hand, have stress heat crawling over my skin, and can’t get my coat off fast enough.
Gage lowers himself to the floor, and God help me; even in my anxious state, I notice the way his shirt pulls tightly across his chest as he sits.
I follow, sliding down the wall into a seated position. My pencil skirt shifts with the motion, riding up enough to expose some of my thighs. I stretch my legs out, crossing one ankle over the other. When I glance up, I catch sight of Gage’s gaze on my legs right before he shifts his attention to his phone.
He taps out a text. “I’ve just let Shirley know we’re here. She said the girls are busy with their science project.” Amusement fills his face. “Apparently, Luna’s dramatics are getting too much for Sarah.”
“I imagine Sarah’s annoying Luna too. She’s like me and tends to zero in on details that don’t really matter.”
“They all matter. It’s a good skill to have. Luna will hopefully learn that from her.”
His compliment throws me back to yesterday. To all the kind things he said to me. And the hot mess I was. “Gage, I’m sorry about yesterday.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
I smooth my hands down my skirt. Another nervous habit. There are too many words in my head. Too much wild uncertainty in my life. And I’m struggling to sort through it. To keep it all firmly under control like I usually do. And then there’s Gage. And my attraction to him. It makes thinking about all the things I need to think about hard.
“Amelia,” he says, and I realize I got lost in my thoughts.
I bring my gaze back to him. “I really do. Mostly because I missed our meeting, and it dragged you away from work.”
“That was my choice. I was worried about you.”
I rest my head back against the wall and look up at the ceiling of the elevator. “I hate that.”
“What? Someone worrying over you?”
“Yes.” I turn my head to him. “It’s a responsibility you don’t need to add to your plate.”
“I care about you, Amelia. And that’s not a responsibility. It’s a choice.”
I’m not used to this kind of care. Not the kind that’s simple or that doesn’t come with expectations. I’ve been showing up for myself since I was a kid, long before I even understood that not everyone had to. My friends are lovely, but they orbit the surface. Dinner, book club, school events. They don’t ask the deeper questions. They wouldn’t know where to look for my fault lines, even if I handed them a map.
My brothers are the only ones who see through the “I’m fine” and call me on it. Everyone else? I keep them at arm’s length. Not because I don’t want closeness. But because letting someone in means chancing disappointment, and care—real care—has always felt like something that comes with a cost. Like the moment you accept it, you owe something back.
“So, no hangover this morning?” he asks while I sit with the unfamiliar feeling of being seen, and the reflex that still wants to pull back.
“I was okay.” I smile. “Which I know I have you to thank for. I’m not certain I would have stopped after three cocktails yesterday if not for you.”
“I’ve been there. It gets messy real fast. I wanted to save you from that.”
“I appreciate it.”
“How was today?”
“Long. Awful. And for anyone out there looking for fun things to add to their yearly bingo card, I ten out of ten do not recommend what was added to mine this week.”
He studies me. “Are you holding up?”
I draw in a long breath. The truth is I’m not okay. Not even close.
I was raised to believe messes are shameful. That if something falls apart, you fix it fast. And quietly. But this mess I’m in? It’s loud. It’s public. And for the first time, I don’t think I can clean it up on my own.
“No,” I admit softly with a shake of my head. “No, I’m not okay. I am so far from okay it’s almost laughable.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just sits with me, holding space for me. His gaze doesn’t waver, and it makes me feel like he sees the whole mess of me and doesn’t mind staying in it.
“All my life, I’ve held things together,” I go on. “It wasn’t hard. It was just what I did. Then, my marriage fell apart, and everything has become hard. Slowly, though. It crept up on me and I didn’t see it happening. The last couple of months have felt like compound interest kicked in, speeding it all up, and now here I am. Drowning.”
“I know that feeling well.”
“Really? Because it sure doesn’t look like it.”
“What does it look like?”
“You always seem so calm. So unaffected by life.”
“Spend a little time with me. You’ll see the cracks.”
I shift, angling my body his way. “Can you just tell me one thing that makes you feel like you’re drowning so I can believe you?”
He doesn’t even have to think about his answer. “Parenting. That makes me feel like I’m drowning every damn day.”
His admission stuns me. Not because he finds parenting hard. We all do. But because he was willing to be vulnerable. I like that he doesn’t pretend life hasn’t touched him.
“Co-parenting is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” he continues. “The tightrope of managing past hurts, current frustrations, getting hit every now and again with reminders of what once was, and constantly reminding myself I have a child who has to come first...that shit is fucking hard. And some days, I’m not sure how I’ll make it through.”
My breath whooshes out of me. Gage just put all my thoughts and feelings about single parenting into words and I physically felt every one of them. “Yes,” I agree quietly. “I feel all of that too.”
“But the flipside of that is something special.” The emotion in his voice isn’t loud, but it’s there in every word. “I’m not certain I’d have the relationship with Luna that I have now if not for being a single father.”
“Because of all the time you spend alone with her?”
“That. But also, because I was forced to assess my priorities. I had to decide if my work was more important than time with my daughter. I could have hired a full-time nanny, but I chose not to.” He stops talking and glances away for a beat, then turns to me again. His voice is rougher when he says, “I think if Shayla and I hadn’t divorced, I wouldn’t have chosen to spend as much time with Luna. And that’s a hell of a confession, because it says a lot about me as a man.”
“It says a lot about the man you chose to be, Gage.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly, almost hesitantly, like he’s not sure he’s earned that version of himself yet. “Point is, sometimes when things go to hell, it clears space for something else you didn’t even know you needed.”
As I think about that, I become aware that it’s getting warm in here. When I reach up to undo the top couple buttons of my blouse, Gage’s eyes are drawn to my chest. He doesn’t even try to hide it. The way he watches unapologetically is mildly erotic. And when I say mildly, I mean it would count as foreplay if we were together.
His gaze slides back up to mine once I’m finished with my buttons. We don’t speak. We just watch each other.
Having only ever been with one man, I don’t consider myself experienced when it comes to sex. Not really. And well, I’ve established I’m out of my depth when it comes to flirting these days. Especially with a man like Gage who embodies sex like it’s built into his DNA.
But here, in this moment with him, I don’t feel shy. God, I like his eyes on me.
I give him a slow smile, leaning into the ease of being with him, and return to our conversation. “I’m not sure what better place this plagiarism accusation will lead to, but I hope you’re right. Because right now, it’s shit. And social media can fuck right off.”
His mouth quirks. “Is that a new Ameliaism?”
My smile deepens, spreading through me. An Ameliaism . It’s such a small thing, but it affects me because it feels like he’s been collecting pieces of me and naming them. He sees me not just as a woman, or as Luna’s mom, but as me . “What? The fuck right off?”
“Yeah. I’ve never heard you swear like that.”
“I’ve probably been spending too much time with you. You’re a bad influence.”
He raises a brow. “I’m not the one who was day drinking yesterday.”
Surprisingly, I feel none of the embarrassment I’ve been feeling all day. “I was having a bad day.”
More of that amused look. “Yeah, you had reasons. I remember.” The amusement reaches his eyes fully. “You lost a favorite earring. Hell of a week.”
“Oh, god.” I laugh. “Did I tell you that?”
“You told me a lot of things.” And there’s that heat. In his eyes. Across his face. Pulsing in between his words. “I now know just how much you like a tuxedo.”
I don’t pull my eyes from his. I don’t deflect. I stay right in this with him even though the part of me that’s scared of where this will all end is doing her best to signal danger.
“You do look good in one.”
“Apparently I’m a whole-ass situation even when I’m not wearing one.”
“You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
He gives me a sexy smile and goodness if I don’t feel it low. “Guilty as charged. Though I’m not entirely sure what a whole-ass situation is.”
“I think you know exactly what it is. And if you don’t, I’m not explaining it to you.”
He chuckles and then proceeds to roll up his sleeves as he says, “So, you’re considering dating.”
I’m staring at his forearms when he throws that out. They’re a whole-ass situation all on their own. “Yes,” I answer distractedly, then lift my gaze back to his and shake my head. “No. No, I’m not dating.” And put those arms away. Now.
“I got the distinct impression yesterday that it’s on your mind. Have you dated much since your divorce?”
“Just a few dinners here and there. Honestly, I don’t have the time for it.”
He takes a moment with that. “Right. And then there’s the emojis and the soft launching and all the expectations.”
“Did you memorize everything I said to you yesterday?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Good lord, Gage is the most direct man I have ever met. And where he allowed my retreat when we danced at my parents’ party, I don’t think he’s going to do that again.
“Dating feels hard. And messy. I need another year to overthink it.”
“Or maybe, you just need someone who will give you the space to figure it out in your own way. On your own terms.”
My heart starts beating faster. A little panicked at where he’s pushing this. And at not being able to exit stage left out of this conversation right now.
I’m more attracted to Gage than I’ve been to anyone. However, I wasn’t looking for a man, and just jumping into whatever this is with him? Absolutely not. I need to be more certain about it before taking that kind of risk.
“I’ve barely moved on from my marriage, Gage. I’m not rushing into another relationship. And I have Sarah to consider. I have to be very sure about whoever I choose to bring into our lives.”
The elevator intercom buzzes, interrupting us. “Mr. Black,” Tony’s voice comes through the speaker, “maintenance is in the building. They should have the elevator running in the next five minutes.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Gage says as he stands.
The line clicks off and he turns to me and extends a hand.
I slip my fingers into his, and the moment he pulls me up, I’m closer to him than I anticipated. We’re chest to chest, the air between us tight, and I’m staring into those dark eyes of his. Those absolutely lethal eyes of his.
He keeps hold of my hand, not letting me step away. “Stay for dinner.”
My pulse slams into overdrive. “What are you cooking?”
“Does it matter? It’s gotta beat going home after a long and awful day and having to cook for yourself.”
“I don’t like fish,” I throw out, stalling.
“I’m not cooking fish.”
“Or lamb. I’m not in the mood for that tonight.”
“Got it. No lamb.”
I swallow a tangle of emotions that have nothing to do with food. “It’s not a bad idea. We could work on the science fair.”
“We could,” he agrees, but everything I’m looking at right now says that’s the last thing on his mind.
“I saw the email you sent Stephanie.” The one he sent her last night expressing his hope that she’s okay and offering the opportunity to help us on the day of the fair if she still wants to be involved. He cc’d me on it. “That was a nice thing to do.” And yes. I. Am. Stalling .
“Well, I was told to work on being nicer to people.”
“‘Told’ seems a little strong. I feel like it was more of a suggestion.”
“Amelia,” he says, and God , this man knows how to boss a woman without even trying.
“Okay, yes,” I blurt. “I’ll stay for dinner. But it’s just dinner. So you know.”
“I wouldn’t dream of assuming anything where you’re concerned. I imagine that would get me into some hell.”
And just like that, he settles my racing heart.
I can trust Gage to let me take my time. He’s proven that already.
I unthread our fingers and bring my hand up to pat his chest. “You would do well to remember that.”
His grin is the last thing I see before maintenance interrupts us.