Chapter 9
nine
AMANTHA
“So what? You’re single!” Kate whispered, exasperated. She again waggled her fingers toward the hot waiter as he approached our neighboring table.
“Kaaate. Stop!” I sank down in the booth like a sack of potatoes. The soft pink cotton of my t-shirt probably only contributed to the flamingo pink my face had turned. While the waiter was attractive, I didn’t want to have this conversation over French toast.
“Let him ask you out already! He’s been eyeing you this entire time,” Kate said. “Besides, you owe me for driving all the way out to the suburbs. As repayment, you must let Mr. Biceps buy you dinner.”
“Mr. Biceps?” I snorted.
“Oh don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. His eyes are up there, Amantha.” She winked.
I flushed deeper before adamantly shaking my head.
“Ugh. You’re impossible.” Kate took a sip of her kale smoothie, scanning the trendy bistro. “You haven’t dated in over a decade!”
My foot met her shin under the table. “Say it louder next time,” I grumbled.
“Ow! Jeez! All I’m saying is Ryan is history, and you’re hot. It’s time you own it.”
The clattering forks and chatting people beside us suddenly sounded deafening. I shoveled a bite of syrup-drenched breakfast into my now dry mouth.
“What makes you think I’m not owning it already?” I asked.
“Cause you’re still wearing jeans from a decade ago,” she said.
Kate drained the last of her kale smoothie and slapped some bills on the table.
“Brunch is on me.” She stood, tossed her long black hair over her shoulders, and readjusted her green strapless top and wide-legged jeans.
“Because you are about to spend a lot of money.”
I scrambled out of the booth after her. “A lot of money on what?”
With no answer or choice but to follow, I soon met dressing room mirror after mirror as Kate dragged me through stores. Shoving my legs into the millionth pair of jeans, I tried to fight them over my curvy hips. Not going to lie, it was giving me PTSD from those stupid shaping shorts.
Hearing my stream of curses, Kate chuckled from outside the changing stall.
“Come out here so I can see them!”
“Over my dead body,” I retorted, trying the next size up. “I am not in a makeover montage from a cheesy movie.” The second pair slid somewhat easier over my hips—as easily as stiff denim could, that is. I buttoned them with a sigh of relief.
“Fine then.”
I yelped as the privacy curtain of the stall swept open and Kate barged in.
“Kate!” I shrieked. “What if I wasn’t dressed?!”
“But you are, so who cares?” Kate surveyed my legs in the mirror. “Those look fantastic! We’re buying them.”
I scrutinized my reflection. The pants did look great. They fit me well, emphasizing my ample curves in the right places. It had been a long time since I’d seen myself like this. A very long time. Unease settled in the pit of my stomach.
Suddenly, it all felt like more than a pair of pants. Unexpected emotion began to well in the reflection of my gray eyes.
“Amantha! What’s the matter?” Kate exclaimed in alarm.
I sank onto a green stool in the changing stall. Embarrassed, I swiped at my cheeks.
“I don’t know why this is so hard,” I sniffled and hugged my abdomen, trying to ward off memories of a broken sprinkler pipe and a broken heart.
Kate crouched next to me, squeezing my knee. “I’m here. You can talk to me.”
While she already knew about Ryan and his infidelity, I still hated talking about it. Releasing the breath I hadn’t realized was trapped, I tried my best to explain.
“I don’t know. When Ryan did…” I swallowed. “What he did, it really wrecked me, you know? I wasn’t prepared for that level of rejection.”
Anger flashed through Kate’s angular eyes, though her voice sounded gentle. “No one would have been.”
“This is so stupid.” I forced a harsh laugh. “They’re only jeans. It’s just shopping. But… I can’t shake this feeling.” Finding Kate’s gentle hands in mine, I let my shoulders fall. “I’m scared, Kate.”
She pulled me into her arms then, waiting for as long as I needed. Her glossy hair smelled faintly of jasmine. Kate pulled back, leveling her fierce expression with mine.
“Of course you are. Beginning life again is scary. But this is your life, not his. Imagine you have a new, fresh canvas. You get to be the artist.”
After plenty of heartbeats passed, I nodded. Ryan was history. This was my life. Resolve filled my lungs. While I wasn’t ready for love today, or even tomorrow, I wanted to believe that it could happen.
Someday.
“I’m so, so lucky to have met you, Kate.” I hugged her tightly. Even with my almost-nonexistent pool of suburban mom friends, I’d never experienced a friendship so full of love and understanding.
“Yes, yes you are.” Her chuckle rumbled against my shoulder. She pulled back and gathered her long hair into a quick ponytail. “Now hurry up. I’m dying to meet the infamous Susan.”
By the time the sun had set, I’d given Kate a house tour, and Mom had coerced a steaming cup of coffee into her hands so she’d stay and chat longer.
But one look at my best friend told me she’d live here if she could.
Her contagious laughter at Mom’s embarrassing stories of me even had me chuckling.
“I can’t even,” Kate gasped, “I’m going to need photo proof, Susan.”
“Happy to. Took an entire week to convince her that underwear wasn’t a hat. Such a stubborn toddler.” Mom grinned at me like a Cheshire cat in a blue cardigan.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m going to need more coffee to keep up with you two, aren’t I?”
Their heads swiveled toward each other like mischievous twins before they busted up laughing again. After a minute, Kate raised her mug.
“I’m gonna need more caffeine just to get home! Amantha, I can’t believe you drive that commute every day.”
“It’s the worst,” I agreed.
Mom pinned me with that look. The mothering-type one that made me feel like I needed to clean my room. “See Amantha? I told you to rent an apartment closer to work! At least for the summer till Anthony comes home.”
“I just didn’t want to leave you here all alone,” I said quietly.
The fine lines on her face melted into a sad smile. “Oh, sweetie, I know you mean well. But I’m okay, really. You don’t need to tire yourself out just for me.” She lifted a tricky eyebrow. “Plus, you’d finally quit being grumpy from lack of sleep.”
“Hey!” I laughed. “That’s not fair.”
“Actually—” Kate typed something into her phone. “I do have a friend that’s traveling abroad for the next year. I’ll text him to see if his apartment is still available.”
Mom clapped her hands together, her cropped blonde waves dancing. “See? It’s fate.”
“Do I get a say in any of this?”
“No!” Their twin chorus was unanimous.
Kate’s phone vibrated. “It’s still available! It’s a good area, close to work. It’s kinda small though.” She handed me the listing.
I chewed my lip, eying photos of a barren studio apartment.
The idea of great sleep and being able to walk to work was appealing.
Maybe a change of scenery would ease my mama heart until Anthony came home in August. I took in my mother’s eager expression and hopeful blue eyes.
Vowing to myself I’d visit at least once a week, I slumped down in the chair.
“You win.”
The kitchen erupted in cheers.
After a phone call, a tour later that week, and a signed lease, I stood in the doorway of the empty apartment. Perhaps I had a fresh canvas after all.
The Vanderbilt wing on the third floor would have been silent were it not for museum guests echoing beyond the construction partition.
My eerie footsteps echoed as I ran my hand along the freshly dried light blue paint.
The hazy color would be the perfect backdrop for the Felix Andreas exhibition, which was coming up quickly.
Next Saturday, these walls would showcase Felix Andreas’ incredible work.
Anticipation sped my pulse. While the museum already owned a substantial collection of his, a few supplementary pieces had arrived from a museum in San Diego a few days ago.
The pieces were in the final hours of their temperature and humidity acclimation period, after which they could be unboxed.
Kendra’s face had seemed tighter than usual at our morning meeting.
The event designers had submitted their plans late, which left the facility manager and technical crew mere hours to set up free-standing walls, cocktail tables, and silk screens.
The art handlers and couriers would arrive to hang paintings later this afternoon, leaving zero margin for error.
Because of the tight schedule, Kendra assigned me to monitor the setup and email her when they finished. I checked the time on my phone.
Four hours left.
The facility manager and technical crew were supposed to have already arrived. I didn’t want to fail my first solo task from Kendra, so I chewed my lip and paced faster, ignoring the dread in my stomach.
My phone vibrated with a text message, my mouth flattening into a firm line as I read.
RYAN: Anthony tried calling yesterday, but it went straight to voicemail. Too busy staring at art to talk to your son?
That jab hit its mark, six inches below my throat. I had been staring at art last night, unaware my phone had died. Blythe and I had stayed late to browse Stirling’s sculptures and decide which ones to purchase for his exhibition.
Once I had revived my phone with a charger and heard Anthony’s garbled voicemail, I called over and over but only got Ryan’s voicemail. I cried myself to sleep after that.
RYAN: We’re boarding a Mediterranean cruise and our cell reception won’t work for a few days. Anthony will call once we get back to the mainland.
“Screw it.” I dialed Ryan’s number, but it rang again to voicemail. Panicked, I typed a quick message, willing a speedy delivery over the Atlantic.
AMANTHA: Let him know I love him and can’t wait to hear from him. Could you give Anthony your phone so he can text me?