Chapter 22 #2
Feeling ridiculous, I pleaded with her through the glass. “I really think you’d like her, Stel.”
The silence felt unnerving. I wasn’t superstitious, nor did I necessarily believe in an afterlife, but I wished for a sign from her. An impossible cosmic admittance of her blessing.
Despite it all, I knew I wanted Amantha in my life. She was like the sun, filtering through my shadows. Now, I just wanted to somehow know that Stella was okay with it.
The doorbell rang.
I set the frame down, then rushed to the door and pressed the intercom button.
“Come on up.” I cringed at the nerves in my voice. Once I swung the door open to the vacant hallway, I leaned against the frame and waited.
Even a golden retriever would have been ashamed of my pathetic eagerness to wait at the door. I decided to queue up the menu of Amantha’s favorite Thai restaurant on my phone so we could place a takeout order. At the sight of Amantha stepping out of the elevator, I almost buckled over.
Leg day was a bad idea.
My siren temptress wore frayed denim shorts and sandals. Instead of the casual t-shirts I’d come to expect, she wore a ruffled white blouse that wrapped around her bare shoulders. A dainty golden necklace glinted at the base of her throat. Loose sunshine brushed down her back in soft, fluffy waves.
My own personal sun.
I swallowed as Amantha stepped close, wrapping her arms around my middle. She blinked up at me, eyes the color of a silver mist over an early morning lake, and I was captivated entirely.
“I missed you,” she murmured.
That look. Amantha looked at me like a kid who’d won the lottery, and I was the candy shop. If she didn’t stop soon, I prayed she’d be able to drag my brawny, unconscious body inside—if only to close the door so the neighbors wouldn’t see how whipped I was.
“I missed you more.” I placed a single finger under her chin, lifting her lips to mine. The erratic beat of my heart took off as my mouth met hers. I couldn’t ignore the primal rush of attraction that accompanied it.
Trouble, trouble, trouble.
Amantha broke the kiss with a shy smile, then sidled past and pulled me inside. I couldn’t help gawking after her as she walked down the hall.
More curves than the Daytona racetrack.
She sniffed the air, turning to me as disappointment knitted her brows.
“You’re not cooking?”
A cocky smirk curled my mouth. “What do you take me for? A personal chef?”
Whatever feeble strength left in my knees vanished as Amantha yanked me close to her against the wall. My arms shot out instinctively, bracing them on either side of her. That “come hither” look she gave had heat tinging the tops of my ears.
This woman.
“I’ll take you however I want, thank you very much.” Amantha’s lips crashed into mine, her soft hands sliding up my jaw.
I wrapped my hands around the curve of her waist, deepening the kiss. Our conversation could hardly be considered productive, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Instead of cooking”—I pressed my forehead against hers, admiring the perfect symmetry of her lips—“I figured we could order take-out so we’d have more time to do this.”
Amantha’s laugh was throaty, her eyes still glassy with desire. “You’re an idiot.”
“Only for you.”
Much to my dismay, Amantha ducked under my braced arm, headed to my couch, and threw herself on top of it with a sigh. I leaned my shoulder into the wall, watching her.
Jealousy for the stupid inanimate object overcame me. Never thought I’d be in competition with a couch, but it was apparent I was losing. Maybe once she had her own, she’d get bored and throw herself at me instead.
We ordered our food and sat talking while we waited for the delivery. A bluetooth speaker on the kitchen counter behind us quietly played one of my playlists.
Amantha trailed her pink fingernails over the ridges in my palm as we talked. I stilled, enjoying each second of her attention across my fingertips. The way this woman could melt me with a single touch was a superpower only she possessed.
“So, Anthony called me this morning.” Pain laced her cheery tone.
“Is he doing okay?”
“Seems like it. But I think he’s homesick. I mean, I am too.” A bemused expression crossed her face. “Not homesick, I guess. Anthony-sick.”
She sighed at our joined hands, letting her head fall heavily on my shoulder. “Ryan wants me to let him extend the trip for another week, but I told him no. Vanessa’s case isn’t over yet. Once she gets there, Ryan wants more time for her and Anthony to bond.”
“He can’t make you, can he?”
“My lawyer says the documents he signed are iron-clad. So technically, no. But it’s never stopped Ryan from threatening to make my life awful if I don’t.” A barely discernible tremor rippled through her voice.
I felt my temperature spike, my jaw twitch. What kind of low-life man could sleep at night after threatening a woman? My shoulder tensed beneath the beautiful head still laying on it, and I was thankful she couldn’t see my murderous expression.
I hated that Amantha had to deal with Ryan. Hated that he would be forever in her life. Her willingness to communicate with the scumbag only spoke volumes of how much she loved her son. With that thought, I bowed my head to hers, lips brushing her downcast cheek.
Amantha didn’t need my anger. She needed an ally. A safe place. And I planned on being just that. I admired the warm flush of her cheek as I pulled away.
“You are such a great mom. Anthony’s lucky to have you.”
My reverence was rewarded with that look again. All of my coherent thoughts vanished within that swirling gray mist.
“Ugh. Seriously?” As the song on my playlist changed, Amantha groaned and dropped my hand. “Accidentally On Purpose? You do know they’re the worst band in history, right? All their songs sound the same!”
“They do not!” My attempt at offense was betrayed by my surprised laugh.
“Yes they do! See?” Amantha tried miserably to mimic the tone of the lead singer as she sang off-key. “I know I have a car, but baby can I walk you hooooome…”
My booming laughter was drowned out beneath her tone-deaf singing.
“We’ll stare up at the stars…” Amantha began to dance around the living room.
I shouted over the noise, “If you hate the band so much, how do you know the lyrics?”
“And make one ours…” Amantha picked up my remote and held it like a microphone.
I tried to snatch it back.
“Because it’s you and me just sitting in a treeeeee—”
I finally succeeded in stopping the horrific performance by hooking her around the waist, grabbing the remote, and tackling her gently onto the couch. Amantha was breathless from laughter.
“Never, under any circumstance, audition for a televised singing competition,” I growled low in her ear.
“Why? Because you’d be jealous of my instant stardom?” she breathed.
I shook my head, suddenly overcome by everything that was her.
I love you, you know that?
The words echoed in my mind. My lips parted, a sudden breath of courage filling my lungs, but an abrupt doorbell buzz interrupted me as Amantha cried out, “Hallelujah! Food!”
Her weak attempt at pushing my heavy chest off of hers was adorable.
I shifted to let her escape and watched her bare feet run down the hallway. I grinned, loving the way she was so comfortable around me. Amantha had never tried to be anything but herself.
She flung the door open after the first knock. “Oh. Um, hello?”
Bewildered, I rushed to the hallway, skidding slightly in my socks as I stopped dead in my tracks. The person at the door wasn’t holding any Thai food.
Instead, my nosy little brat of a sister stood beaming at us.
Camilla.