Chapter 25
twenty-five
AMANTHA
Idropped the duffel bag with a carpeted thud. Mechanically, I removed my clothes and slipped into a pair of ratty pajamas. The silky sheets billowed around me, cool, soft, and smelling like home.
Drawing the fluffy comforter up to my chin, I finally let my tears flow freely in the darkened room. A soft meow slipped through the cracked door, and Mr. Fluff Buttons curled up by my feet. My cozy bedroom may as well have been a sterile hospital room with how comforted I felt.
My chest had been gutted like a fish. Wrenching anguish routinely washed over me like a sadistic nurse on rotation, insisting that I replay each and every interaction I’d ever had with Val. How could I have misunderstood? Why wouldn’t he just talk to me?
Val had even ignored my pitiful barrage of questions and pleading texts. My pathetic calls went straight to voicemail. It was as though I had never existed to him. That I didn’t matter.
My sleepless eyes were raw by the time the sun peeked through the window. Dry, hollow, with simply no moisture left in me to expel. I rolled over and faced my back to the door. Gathering a pillow to my chest, I tried to force it into the empty ache.
I scanned the familiar surroundings. Maybe if I shut my eyes tight, I could pretend it was an earlier time. No apartment, no museum, no Val. Anthony would still be home, begging me to play video games. Mom would be bustling about, complaining that Anthony left the milk sitting on the counter again.
An abrupt knock at the door forced me back into reality. Mr. Fluff Buttons startled off the bed and escaped into the hall.
“Honey?”
I glanced over my shoulder at Mom’s tentative face peeking through the door crack. No words could even begin to explain, so I simply lowered my head back onto the pillow and tried to wet my parched tongue.
“Amantha! Are you alright? What happened? I didn’t hear you come in, but then I saw your van in the driveway this morning.” The mattress dipped as she sat against my back, stroking my tear-dampened hair with her soft hands.
Impossibly, my eyes brimmed again. My shoulders shook as I sobbed into the pillow, the wretched sound muffled by fabric. Mom rubbed my back with a calm shushing sound. And just like that, we slipped effortlessly back into our old routine.
The dark days after Ryan looked eerily similar to my present.
Finding out about Vanessa had forced me into a deep depression.
Days and nights, even months, blurred together in a collage of meals forced into my hands, handwritten notes from Anthony, and countless nights with my mother rubbing my back in this familiar pattern.
No one had told me how even bones could ache, or about the animalistic sounds my vocal chords could make when night came. Sweet, peaceful dreams were devastating when I returned to my waking nightmare. Anxiety episodes laid in wait every evening, consuming me once I lay beside Ryan’s ghost.
Each day, I begged any deity that existed to help dull the pain. I prayed that over time things would get lighter. At some point, I would feel something like happiness again, wouldn’t I?
The day Ryan came to pack his things was the day I truly understood the term, ‘rock bottom.” I was sure that, at any given moment, his blue eyes would twinkle at me again.
Any second now, a smile would break over his handsome face.
He would reassure me this was all a bad joke, a prank that had gone too far.
He would sweep me into his arms and whisper that no one else mattered but me.
In hindsight, I now understood how pathetic it was that I actually helped him pack.
My husband had turned into a stranger. Nothing felt normal. Nothing felt safe. Mundane tasks seemed insurmountable. If only I could just get it together. For Anthony at least. But even for my sweet, innocent child, I still couldn’t find the strength. Thank heavens for my parents.
While I hadn’t been married to Val for a decade, it felt like old scars were being ripped anew. My past and present began to muddle together into an incomprehensible picture.
My therapist had once taught a method to deal with anxiety. When something triggered it, she recommended I use the “Not a Duck” rule. The old saying went, “If it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck, then it’s usually a duck.”
However, anxiety had a wicked skill with illusion. A simple thing could cause me to spiral and entirely convince me of the imaginary danger waiting to consume me.
So, instead of the rule being hard and fast, I had learned to recite, “It walks like a duck. It talks like a duck. But, it’s not a duck.”
The first time Vanessa had answered the door at Ryan’s apartment was the first time I had to use it. Seeing her again had forced me into a flashback of my heart breaking in that darkened car.
Breathe. Vanessa was not on the crosswalk, holding Ryan’s hand.
“It walks like a duck.”
Breathe. I already knew Ryan cheated. This wasn’t new.
“It talks like a duck.”
Breathe. I was getting stronger every day. I was getting better.
“But, it’s not a duck.”
And with time, things did get better. I had been reborn into myself again, even though the price I paid was extremely costly.
So much had been wrong with our marriage.
So much had needed attention and repair.
But instead of putting in the effort to fix it, my coward of a husband fled into the arms of an easier route.
“Sweetie.” Mom’s kiss ruffled the top of my head. “Talk to me.”
I rolled over, resting my head on her lap. “Val’s done.” My voice cracked. “He’s done with me, and he won’t even tell me why.”
“What?”
“One day I was falling in love with him, and the next, he just decided to be done.” I hiccuped. “I… I wish I never loved him at all.” My sobs erupted again, tears dripping onto the knee of my mother’s jeans.
“Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.” Mom’s blue eyes swam with tears of her own. “But never be ashamed of loving someone. Love is a gift. It’s when we offer it freely to others that we grow.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “I know it hurts, sweetie. Let it hurt. But also know you’re growing.”
Deep in the void, I knew my mother was right. Something new was emerging. “New Amantha” was more resilient than my former self. And I definitely wasn’t the kind of woman to fold my cheating husband’s boxers into a suitcase anymore.
I was heartbroken over Val. I truly loved him, regardless of how short our time was together. But surviving Ryan had taught me a lesson. For the first time, I believed I’d eventually survive this too.
Irushed toward the museum’s entrance, already late. The commute from the suburbs had taken much longer than I remembered. While it had been tempting for my sleep-deprived body to blow off work, I didn’t have that luxury. There was just too much to get done before Stirling’s soirée.
Rounding The Spiral, I went over my game plan. If I was forced to work with Val, I would have to revert. Rewind time. Pretend our relationship had never transpired in the first place. After all, didn’t I already have plenty of experience pretending it hadn’t?
I cursed the lack of caffeine in my blood, finding myself wishing for some from the last-resort pot in the break room. The thought made me nauseous, but there wasn’t even time to grab a cup before I stepped into our morning meeting.
Apologizing for my tardiness as I entered the boardroom, I dropped into my usual seat across from Val.
The sleepless night combined with my dehydrated tear ducts produced a welcome numbing sensation in my chest when I looked at him.
His chestnut gaze briefly met mine, a flicker of concern vanishing as soon as it appeared.
I knew I looked atrocious. What’s more, I didn’t care. This morning, shadowed circles had hung beneath my pale eyes in the bathroom mirror. I had refused to put on mascara, knowing it would only get hosed off by another unexpected crying fit.
Somewhere deep within, a part of me desperately wanted Val to explain himself. To apologize, beg for forgiveness, and shower me with kisses. But at the moment, I felt dead inside.
Maybe I should change my name to Morticia Addams… The thought made me snicker. I probably looked like a crazy person, but I couldn’t muster enough strength to care.
Leaving the boardroom, I checked my calendar. I had ten minutes before a meeting with the event designers on the second floor in the Bloomburg wing. It was much larger than the Vanderbilt hall, as Stirling’s sculptures would require more square footage.
Kate grabbed my arm, halting me with a worried look as I passed. “Amantha, are you okay?”
I addressed her with a hollow laugh and shrug.
“Val ended things with me yesterday.” At the incensed look in her eye, I followed with an immediate warning.
“Don’t murder him or make a scene. I’ll call you later, I promise.
” I robotically strode past Val’s office without a second thought and onto The Spiral.
Sleep deprivation had become my savior.
A few hours later, I finally squeezed in a few minutes to stumble into the break room for coffee. Thankfully, the sludge had been replaced with a fresh pot, the bitter scent already energizing me. I was completely unaware of another person in the room until I startled at their movement.
“Oh! Hello,” I said, stumbling for words.
A tall, twenty-something man with tan skin stood beside the coffee station. The simple hunter green dress shirt he wore did nothing to camouflage his physique. The dude was built.
Everything about him screamed “cool.” Dangerous, even. Maybe it was the hint of the tattoo creeping out from his unbuttoned shirt collar. Maybe it was the subtle lift of his square chin when he acknowledged me.
His wavy black hair was long, almost brushing the edge of his shirt collar. He shook an inky wave out of his startling green eyes, his mouth lifting into the makings of a cocky grin.
Besides the fact that my heart had been dropped off a twelve-story balcony yesterday, this guy seemed much too young for me. But the prospect of making a new friend slightly lifted my spirits.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need this?” He raised the coffee pot in my direction.
I stumbled out of my stupor toward it. “Desperately.”
The handsome man took the liberty of pulling a disposable cup off the stack and offering it to me. He poured coffee into my cup as he introduced himself, speaking with a tone so rumbly and low, I could almost feel the vibrations.
“I’m Brandon Roberts. I don’t think I’ve met you yet.”
I opened a packet of cream, dumped it in, and placed a lid on top, all while mustering a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Thanks, by the way.” I let the caffeine blaze a trail from my lips to my stomach for a long moment.
“So, two first names, huh?" I said.
Brandon chuckled. “Never thought of it that way. Names are weird.”
You’re telling me. Offering a polite nod, I drank deeply, closed my eyes, and let my shoulders sag in relief.
“Long day already?” He quirked another dimpled grin, though sympathy lined his voice.
“You have no idea,” I said.
“Well then, I hope your day turns around.” Brandon leaned against the counter, crossed one shiny leather shoe over the other, and sipped his coffee in silence.
Realizing I hadn’t introduced myself, I held out a hand and said, “I’m Amantha Adams. I’m Blythe Barlow’s curation assistant.”
Brandon grasped my hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you Amantha.” His green eyes swung to his watch. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. I have a long day of training ahead of me,” he said.
“Training? Are you a new hire?”
“Yeah. I interviewed a while back but didn’t hear back until yesterday. They wanted me to start right away, I guess.”
“Good for you. I know how tough the interview process can be.”
“That’s a fact. And thanks.” Brandon drained the rest of his coffee and dropped his cup in the garbage. Before he left, I stopped him with a question.
“Oh, I didn’t even ask.” I smiled warmly, taking another sip. “What position did you get hired for?”
“I’m Val Russo’s new assistant.”
Ibarely had scooped my jaw off the floor before Kate shot into the break room like an agent on a mission, her waist-long black hair fanning out behind her.
“Amantha, what do you mean Val—” She must have caught Brandon’s tall form in her periphery, because her mouth stopped short as she did a double take.
In an instant, Kate froze into a mannequin wearing a lime silk blazer and black cigarette pants. Her hand had even stopped mid-air, halfway to her gaping mouth.
Only the myriad of emotions flashing through her dark, triangular eyes hinted that something was wrong. Even from across the room, I saw them shift from astonishment to anger, and then… something else I couldn’t quite place.
Brandon’s face softened as he took her in from head to foot, a slow grin lifting in response.
Instantly, Kate’s mouth snapped shut. She straightened her blazer before meeting his waiting gaze again. The question she asked almost sounded bored.
“What are you doing here, Brandon?”
“Aww, Katie. It’s good to see you again too.” Brandon leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and ankles. The strategic placement of his arms puffed out each massive bicep, and according to the smirk on his face, he knew it too. “And I work here now, love,” he said.
“Don’t,” Kate snapped, her bored facade cracking as she pointed a manicured finger at him, “call me love. Or Katie. And grow up, Brandon; we’re not in college anymore.
” Kate slid her eyes down his body, shamelessly taking in every inch of him before she said, “I mean, at least I’m not.
I guess you can take the boy out of the frat house, but you can’t take the frat out of the boy.
” With that, Kate threaded her arm through mine and marched me toward the door.
“And here I thought we’d have more time to catch up. What are you doing, love?”
Kate shot Brandon a sugary smile, though it wasn’t close to touching the fury in her eyes.
“Ghosting you. Or did you forget?”
Without another word, we were gone.