CHAPTER 12 Jake
Jake
I hadn’t wanted to come tonight. In fact, I’d told Steven no several times over the course of the week and each time he’d vetoed my objections.
“You’re becoming too much of a hermit. It’s not good for you.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I’d responded.
“You only got one thing on your mind. One tiny woman who is consuming all of your thoughts and, as your best friend, I’ve got to get you help.”
“In the form of a ball?” I’d asked dryly.
“Exactly.”
And it had gone back and forth like this for five full days. Five days where I’d been determined to not get dressed up in this uncomfortable suit and bowtie and instead indulge in the latest series of Alone: The Australian Wilderness. But he’d pushed and prodded, reminding me I need to get out and meet people. That Amelia is out and meeting people. And that I can’t sit around and wait for her to be ready for me.
So here I am, in an effort to get over the woman who’d captured my heart, standing in front of her. While she stands in front of not one, but two men. Both vying for her attention.
This is not happening.
And she looks incredible. Like a vision in her glittery dress, sparkling bright, drawing all the light in the room onto her. Her shiny hair is swept up and away from her face, exposing her long, creamy neck, and between the deep V of her gown and the high split, my eyes can’t decide where to land. Except that they can. On her big, brown, velvety eyes, which are currently looking at me with regret. Or remorse? Or something other than the adoration I know is in mine when I look at her.
Bugger this.
I make myself turn away without responding to her weak greeting, leaving her to her flock of admirers, now determined to find alcohol. And lots of it.
“Is that Amelia?” Steven asks as he plants himself next to me at the bar, where I will remain for the foreseeable future. “What’s she doing here?”
I shrug. Torturing me, is my guess. “Don’t know.”
“Is all of Melbourne here tonight?”
We look around, taking in the swarms of people surrounding us. “Feels like it.”
“Still, that’s some bad luck. You come out to get away from your thoughts of her, and here she is. The irony.”
I glare at him. “Yes, and because I live for irony, I’m thrilled to be caught up in it.”
“Calm down, grumpy. I’m just pointing out the obvious.”
I pinch the skin between my eyes. “Well, don’t. I can see her perfectly well without you pointing it out. I can see her and the men she’s with. Men. Plural.”
He squints in their direction. “Can we have another two of these? And keep them coming,” he says to the bartender, indicating to the whiskey in my hand.
The bartender nods, giving me a sympathetic glance. My misery is on full display tonight.
When his drink arrives, Steven takes a sip and hums in appreciation. I don’t blame him; it is good whiskey.
After a long silence in which we fully concentrate on appreciating our brews, Steven returns to the topic at hand. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing.” I stare into my half-finished glass and contemplate having one more before going home. “She’s never not with someone else. First my brother”—a sour taste fills my mouth—“then the dating plan, now those two buffoons. She’s not available. For me.”
He pats my shoulder and wisely chooses not to respond. Because what is there to say? I met Amelia before Robby, before the ABC of men, before those two men standing over there with her now even knew of her existence—and yet despite what I feel when I’m with her, what I feel when I think about her, I just don’t think she feels the same. If she did, we’d be here tonight together. And we’re not.
“To be fair,” Steven speaks up, deciding he’s held his tongue long enough, “you’ve never come out and told her how you feel. You’ve never even asked her out.”
My body rumbles and I clench my fist. “When was I supposed to do that? Before or after she had a relationship with Robby? Or while she was on the date with the biomedical physicist, whatever that is. Even last week, after I almost kissed her, after we had a moment, she still went on a date with an electrician. Just because her friends asked her to. Is that the actions of a woman who wants me to ask her out?”
He shakes his head sadly, finishing the rest of his whiskey in one gulp.
“I have to face it, this thing between us, it’s all in my head.”
“Well, don’t look now, but the woman who you believe feels nothing for you is making her way over to see you. And that’s not ‘nothing’ I see written on her face.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention as I feel her before I see her. Steven drifts away and with my stomach in knots, I steel myself to turn around and face her, hoping for a blank expression on my face.
“Hey Jake.” Her husky voice has my blank face twitching. Not off to a good start.
“Amelia.”
“Did you not see me earlier? I said hello?” Her lower lip, so full and painted a soft pink, trembles and my heart sinks. I’ve made her sad, and I never want to do it again.
“You seemed busy.” I give her a half-smile to lighten the mood. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
She grimaces. “I would’ve welcomed an interruption…from you.” Her emphasis on the word you propels me closer to her. Against my will.
“Were those guys bothering you?”
“Not in the traditional sense of the word.” She shrugs, turning to order herself a glass of champagne. “It was just royally bad timing,” she elaborates once she’s been served.
“Tell me.” I want to know in equal amounts as I don’t want to know.
“The tall one, the one that looks like a mountain?”
I laugh at her description. It’s spot on. The man had to be carved out of stone. There’s no other way to explain it.
“Well,” she continues, “he’s a friend of Daniel’s, who was here tonight and is apparently ‘perfect’ for me.”
I flinch at that word, being used again to describe a man for Amelia. A man who isn’t me.
“And the other guy?”
“He’s the electrician. The one I went out with last week and never returned his calls.”
My breath whooshes out at this titbit of information. The date from last week, the one before the best haircut I’d ever had, was the same man who she didn’t call back. Suddenly, I’m loving this conversation.
“And they’re both here tonight?”
Her look mirrors my own. Total shock mixed with the horror of it all. “I know, right? What are the chances?”
I indicate for her to look around. “Pretty high, considering most of Melbourne has turned up tonight.”
She twirls on her heels, doing a full 360-degree turn before facing me. “Apparently, we run with a pretty popular crowd.” Her nose scrunches up in that adorable way as she beams up at me.
“Not me.” I smile back at her, tucking a stray piece of her hair behind her ear, stroking the soft skin of her jaw as I go. She shivers and I notice. “Steven dragged me here. He’s the popular one.”
She laughs again, her sexy, gets-under-my-skin laugh. “If it weren’t for Steven, I’d probably never see you.”
“You want to see me?” My voice is flirty and I move a step closer to her, all thoughts of moving on and forgetting her clearing out of my head.
She tilts her head, examining me. “Where are your glasses?
Her question throws me and I touch my face, confused for a millisecond. “My glasses?”
“I hardly ever see you out without them,” she frowns, looking annoyed.
“I’m wearing contacts. Thought it would look better with the suit.”
Her shoulders shrug and her earrings jangle as she shakes her head. Vehemently. “I like your glasses.”
That’s it, I’m super-gluing them to my face! Anything to keep that look on hers!
“O-K.” I draw the word out, my heart thumping in my chest. “Glasses it is.”
“Good,” she replies. It’s sorted. “Now what?”
I wrench my gaze away from her, specifically from that smattering of freckles, so nicely on display across her small nose. “Do you want to dance?”
“Dance?” she mutters the word under her breath, deliberating. “With you?”
I chuckle. “No, with the man mountain and his friend the electrician.”
She thumps me on the arm.
“Yes, with me.” I’m back to serious now. I really want to dance with her.
“OK.” Her front teeth bite into her bottom lip. I pick up her hand, guiding her to the dance floor, which is overflowing with couples swaying in time to the crooners on stage.
“I didn’t know this ball was going to be this extravagant,” she says as we edge our way into the middle of the dancefloor. “I was expecting a DJ, but not this.” She points to the three Italian men singing in perfect harmony, accompanied by a full jazz band.
I pull her close to me, my hands settling on her hips like they were always meant to be there. Her arms loop around my neck and I can’t help it; I pull her even closer until there’s a mere millimetre of space between us. She looks up at me, her heels raising her to my collarbone, the perfect height for me to gaze at her beautiful face up close.
“I love this song,” she whispers.
Quieting the ringing in my head, the sound that plays on a loop whenever she’s nearby, I listen. “I don’t think I know it.”
She hums softly under her breath. “It’s an old 80s power ballad. My mum and dad loved to listen to these sorts of songs and belt them out at the top of their lungs.” She stops, a strange expression crossing her face.
“What is it?” I pull her even closer until we are chest to chest.
“It’s just that I have so few memories of my parents together and happy. This one hit me hard.” Her hand moves away from my shoulder and rubs the spot above her heart.
“Want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head. “There’s not much to talk about. You know my dad used to work a lot. He was away all the time when I was growing up. Until one day, he just didn’t come home. That’s why this memory is so unsettling; I’ve only ever remembered the bad times, when there were clearly some good mixed in there.”
“That’s human nature,” I reassure her. “To remember things through a particular lens.”
She peers up at me through her long lashes. “Do you do that?”
I think about it. Do I? “I guess my life growing up is coloured by the arrival of Robby. I don’t really remember a time when I didn’t feel responsible for him. When I was the one free to be the little kid, you know?”
“I can see that. Robby would have taken up all the space. He still does.”
I laugh, a bitter sound. “My parents had given up having any more kids after trying for years. And then he ‘blessed’ us with his arrival.” Big quotation marks around the word blessed. My hands return to her waist like a magnet and I continue. “They were thrilled to have another baby, and even though I was seven and still a kid, I was forced to grow up pretty quickly. To allow them the luxury of babying him without me in the way.”
“That’s tough.” She squeezes my shoulders in sympathy.
“I’d never really thought of it that way, but yeah. It sucked. What’s worse is that I’m still that way with Robby. I’m still picking up his pieces.”
Amelia freezes under my hands and I shake her. “Do not even go there. I’m not talking about you. You are the best thing that Robby ever brought into my life.”
Her smile is wide and blinding, and I don’t care that I may have said too much. Because it’s true: every single mess Robby has made that I’ve had to clean up is worth the time I now get to spend with her.
“Have you heard from him? How’s the band going?” She laughs as she asks this.
“He’s gone so quiet that my mum’s been calling me in a panic, worried about her baby boy. You remember how overprotective she is of him.”
She nods. “Oh, I remember. I don’t think she ever thought I was good enough for Robby.”
I grunt, feeling this like a blow. How ridiculous; Robby wasn’t worthy of breathing the same air as Amelia. “Don’t take it personally. Mum wants him to find a woman who will look after him the way we all have.”
“I could’ve done that,” she argues.
“But why would you want to?”
She nibbles on her lip, blowing out a deep breath. “I can’t even keep a plant alive. I’m not sure I would’ve been able to keep Robby alive long-term.”
“Nor should you have to. A partnership goes both ways. I’m pretty sure Robby wasn’t bringing anything to the table.”
Amelia remains silent, perhaps not wanting to badmouth my brother to me, but her expression reveals all of her inner thoughts. She agrees with everything I’ve said.
“Either way, I don’t think I’m that type of woman. You know, the nurturing kind?”
I gape at her. Is she crazy? “Um, Amelia, what gave you that impression?”
Her head tilts, and she stares up at me. Unspeaking.
“I watched you take care of Robby, when he never returned the favour. I watch you look after your friends. I watch you be kind to all these men you’re dating.” The word men, plural, is wrenched out of me. “You don’t see it, but you are nurturing and caring and considerate. And you’d make a wonderful partner, to someone who deserves you.”
She gazes at me, still not saying anything, and sweat drips down my back. Lucky I’m wearing a dark suit or else we’d be in a sweat-patch situation pretty soon.
“You really think so?” she finally asks, softly. “That’s how you see me?”
I snort. I can’t help it. “That’s how everyone but you sees you.”
Her brown eyes take on a liquid quality and I wonder if I’ve upset her. By once again saying too much. Maybe you should keep your big mouth shut, Jake!
“Thank you.” She whispers these two words, a wealth of sincerity behind them. “I mean it, thank you.”
We sway together, pressed close, and I give in. My cheek rests on top of her silky hair and I feel it: that this is where I’m supposed to be. And that it’s time to do something about it.
“Do you want to get another drink?” I ask as the music stops and I have to pull away from her. Reluctantly.
She looks over my shoulder and panic dances across her face.
“Uh oh.”
I turn to see what she’s looking at, and there, standing a few metres away from us, are the man mountain and the electrician. Still together, eagerly scouring the room. I only need one guess to figure out what—who—they’re looking for.
“Hide me!” Amelia jumps behind me, her small frame completely hidden as she tucks herself close to my back.
“Gladly,” I mutter, secretly thrilled that not only is she choosing to hide from these two men but that she’s involving me in the shenanigans.
“How do you want to play this?” I ask over my shoulder through clenched teeth, like we’re together on a secret mission again.
She flashes me a smile, clearly thinking back to the escape room as well.
“Is there any way we can back away, slowly, out of the room? With you keeping me out of their sight?”
The whole thing is absurd, but I’m not hating the way she’s pressing her body against mine.
“Let’s take small steps backwards. The exit is just over there.” I tilt my head towards the front door and I feel her nod against me.
“You keep watch.”
“Yes, mam.”
She giggles. I love it.
“Ready?”
I put my arm around her, securing her close to me, and in unison, we take slow measured steps towards the exit. Not looking ridiculous at all.
“How did I let you get me in this situation?” I ask, smiling at the people watching us with bemused expressions on their faces.
“It’s all Bella’s fault,” she grumbles, now putting her arm around my front and holding on. Wonderful.
“Remind me to thank her later,” I mutter, revelling in the feel of her holding on to me.
“What?”
“Nothing. Are we almost there yet?”
So far, we’d drawn the attention of about half the people in the room, but luckily not that of the two men she’s running away from.
“Just a couple more steps.”
I feel the cooler night air on my back and know we are close to mission success. A shame really; I could’ve done with a few more minutes of Amelia this close to me. Of Amelia needing me, if only to help her run away from her other potential suitors.
“We did it!” She lets go only to step in front of me, looping her arms around my neck and hugging me, from the front this time. “Thank you!”
Her voice, that husky voice, is higher with happiness and relief, and I squeeze her back. Breathing her in.
“You’re welcome.”
We smile at each other.
“Now what?” I echo her earlier words back to her when the silence has stretched on a smidge too long and I worry she may leave me too.
She looks up at the entrance of the Brighton Beach Club, where this fancy shin-dig is being held, and then out at the stretch of coastline in front of us, the ocean glimmering like a beacon in the full-moon light. A more romantic setting I’ve yet to see.
“Well, I don’t want to go back in there.” She points behind her with her thumb. “Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?”
More than you’ll ever know.
“Sounds good.” I keep my voice even, reaching out to take her hand. She lets me and together we walk down the ten steps that lead to the sand.
“Hang on,” she drops my hand—grrr!—bending over to take off her shoes. “There, that’s better.”
With her shoes in one hand, she picks up mine again—yes!—and leads me down to the deserted beach. And I follow her, because that’s a given in my life.
Wherever Amelia is, that’s where I want to be.