Chapter 31
thirty-one
AMANTHA
The rough pavement was warm beneath my bare feet, though I couldn’t stop shaking. Summer sun faded overhead, brilliant streaks of orange and pink chasing after their only source of warmth. Lampposts began to glow beside the gurgling fountain, punctual and prepared for the falling night.
The straps of my loathsome high heels criss-crossed my fingers as they dangled from my hand. I yanked a fistful of blue velvet out of my way as I turned and paced the other way for the millionth time.
An unfamiliar sensation was condensing in my vocal chords. It felt like the muscles themselves were weighted with millions of suppressed words, injustice crying out from each cell. I rubbed my throat.
Twenty minutes, or I’m calling the police.
Would Val risk not showing up? Surely he knew I’d figured it out. Turning Val in had been an empty threat. I probably should have immediately called the police, but my heart had other plans. For the first time after a heartbreak, I wanted answers.
After Ryan had cheated, after our marriage had been ripped at the seams, I had never asked him why.
Why had he ruined our family? Why hadn’t he been willing to put in the work?
Why hadn’t I been enough? I had been too terrified to hear his reasoning.
Too fragile. Teetering on the precipice of complete obliteration.
But I wasn’t that woman anymore.
The oppressing humidity stuck my limp hair to my neck. I dropped my shoes and rummaged in my clutch for a hair tie. Raising my chin to the twilight, I began to sweep the annoying strands into a ponytail.
A shadowed figure stepped into a pool of light cast by a nearby lamppost. I watched as Val took me in, his gaze snagging on my bare feet. How dare the corners of his mouth twitch, like the criminal himself was amused.
I yanked the too-long dress out of my way, letting it trail as I stalked toward him. Val had the audacity to act taken aback, eyes widening at my fury.
“You two-faced, lying jerk. You really had me fooled.” My hard laugh sliced the air between us.
Val blinked, shaking his head as though to clear a punch. “Amantha, are you okay? What’s this about the police?”
“I’ll tell you what! You are a dishonest prick, that’s what! You are heartless and sadistic. I never knew you at all, did I?”
Yes. More.
“What are you talking about?” He looked at me with lowered brows, though a glimmer of pain peeked through his confusion.
“The painting! That’s what! I have no idea how you two stole that Cormac Padraig, but my compliments to the thief. Please, enlighten me. I’m just dying to know how you two pulled it off.”
“A Cormac Padraig? What are you—Wait. You think I stole something?”
“Oh come on, Val. Don’t embarrass yourself,” I scoffed. “The Cormac Padraig you and Kendra stole? Rick’s closet, back shelf, toilet paper box? Ring any bells?” The knuckles on my fists were beginning to blanch.
“Me and Kendra? Rick’s closet?” His eyes looked genuinely worried now. “Amantha, I never—”
“Stop lying to me!”
My shout reverberated throughout the park as Val was stunned into silence. Tears churned in my eyes, my lips quivering.
“Stop, Val. Stop pretending you don’t know what I’m talking about. Stop pretending to be innocent. Stop…” I tried to swallow. “Pretending to care about me.”
Val’s chest seemed to collapse.
“I didn’t deserve this, you know?” I said quietly. “I didn’t deserve to be lied to. Especially not by you.” I tilted my chin to the darkening sky and pressed the heels of my hands against my streaming eyes.
“Dang it, Val. I promised myself on that stupid plane I’d never let you make me cry again.” My watery laugh sounded as hollow as I felt. “Guess that makes us both liars, huh?” I walked back to the fountain and stooped to gather my things.
“Amantha, listen—”
“No, you listen!” I whirled on him, my tearful eyes hardening. “I am so sick and so tired of being manipulated. I’m done being naive. Why do I keep falling for men who think they can have their cake and eat it too?” I studied him through my raging tears.
What a fantastic actor. Apprehension was only one of many emotions flitting across Val’s face.
“You’re just like Ryan,” I whispered. Tears flowed in rivulets down my cheeks, dripping off my jaw and splashing the pavement. Pain swelled to a crescendo in my chest, and I couldn’t stay here a minute longer. I brushed past him.
“Amantha, wait!” Val’s warm grip arrested my wrist in an all too-familiar way.
“Don’t,” I shouted as I snatched my hand back, “touch me, Val.” His beautiful name cracked on my hiccuping sob. “You don’t get to touch me anymore.”
Clutching my sapphire velvet, I strode away from the second man I ever loved.
VAL
Amantha’s bare feet disappeared into the shadows, a sea of sapphire trailing behind her. A shard of ice protruded where my heart had been only moments before.
Time ceased to exist, though the world impossibly continued. A couple strolled hand-in-hand by the fountain. A night city bus unloaded passengers a few yards away. It was as though my brain had forced me into a timelapse, rewinding and replaying the incomprehensible in reverse.
There it was again.
Amantha’s wrist flew back into my grasp with an echo of her strangled sob.
Her silver eyes brimmed again with heartbreak, as she told me I was just like her ex-husband.
She stepped backward toward the fountain, its waters flowing back and up into an endless vacuum.
The heels of her hands attempted again to staunch the flow of her tears.
She had promised herself she’d never cry over me again.
I felt like a monster. Heartless. Sadistic.
My feeble shell imploded, crushing me to the core.
Slamming my eyelids shut, I forced my way out of the sickening time loop. I stumbled on shaking legs toward a bench, slumping down and cradling my head. Panic sped my breathing, my vision blurring.
Not again.
The stupid panic attack refused to release its claim on me. My mind produced an image of Amantha’s shy, beautiful smile and breathy voice as it swam in and out of focus. “My dad used to have panic attacks sometimes… Five senses… Cold water… Touch helps too.”
The ghostly sensation of her pink fingernails trailing over my palm made me close my fist to see if she was still there.
She wasn’t.
I stumbled toward the fountain before crumbling to my knees beside it. The reflective water spilled over my cupped hands. I splashed my face, cold water dripping from my jaw like her tears had.
Such a monster.
Another icy wave met my skin, making me involuntarily gasp in response. After a few minutes, the wavy park began to stabilize. Returning to the bench, I sank down with trembling knees.
A Cormac Padraig? Amantha had been convinced I stole one.
That I was a criminal.
Fitting, since I am one.
Hurting a woman like Amantha was a crime. I didn’t know a heart could fold in on itself the way mine had. Each day that had passed in pretend ignorance of her created a new fold in its origami. Even if I withdrew the bloody paper crane and offered it to her, could she ever forgive me?
Of course not. She never deserved to be ghosted, and I never deserved her in the first place.
That night at my apartment, Stella’s go-to joke had so effortlessly slid from Amantha’s perfect lips.“I’m going to slip you a sedative and make you relax.” A haunting verbatim. The sign I’d been waiting for. I had known instantly it was a mistake to have fallen in love with Amantha.
She was just so… good. Amantha was effervescent sunshine. Her soul was pure and kind. She had already suffered through so much.
I was damnation incarnate. Possessed by darkness and cursed with grief. I could only ever offer half of me to someone after Stella. And who would want that? Want me?
Amantha deserved a knight in shining armor—not a night of eternal darkness.
Pressing send on the text that ended our relationship had sent me straight to hell.
I reasoned it would be okay, since I already lived there.
Amantha was sure to try her hardest to fight for us, but I had prepared for that.
She didn’t know what I knew. It was best for her.
How long would it be until she tired of my unrelenting grief?
How many years would she waste on me, made captive by her rose colored glasses?
Ryan had already robbed her of a decade, and I couldn’t do that to her.
Amantha needed to be freed, even as she fought to stay within the confines of our gilded relationship.
Ignoring her texts and calls had sucked, but if I had even used one breath to explain, I would have caved. I was weak. I was a coward. Amantha was right.
I was like Ryan.
Offering Brandon my assistant position after she left my apartment that night had been a stroke of genius. I’ll admit, I was surprised that he accepted so fast, and even more that he honored my stipulation to begin the next morning. My human shield had been as necessary as it was pathetic.
I would never forget the look in Amantha’s pale, vacant eyes that morning across the conference room table. I had been the cause—and I loathed myself because of it.
Passing by the break room later that day, I spotted my new assistant chatting with Amantha. Her warm smile had been aimed at Brandon, not me. Unexpected jealousy had overcome me, and I had almost fired him on the spot.
The following days were torture.
I reasoned it would be okay, since I was used to torture.
A dark chuckle rumbled out at the memory of our collision outside the copy room.
That woman had two left feet and all the curves in the world.
It had taken every ounce of willpower not to slam my copies to the wall and crush my mouth to hers, red lips and all.
I just couldn’t stomach the sad look in her eyes anymore.
My plea for forgiveness had rested dangerously close to my tongue.
Avoidance became even more paramount after that.
Besides trying to investigate the forged painting on my own, I fell into a pattern of leaving work early and staying at the gym too late.
Even as I faded, life trickled back into Amantha’s eyes.
She began striding around the office with purpose.
Stirling’s account had been good for her. My plan was working.
Sure, I’d have to suffer a life of misery without her.
I reasoned it would be okay, since I was used to misery.
At least Amantha was free.
All it took was one unprepared glance between us at Stirling’s soirée tonight to completely wreck me. I had been immediately lost in the gray smoke and mirrors of her gaze. And if wardrobes could be weaponized, she had meant war. I cursed the shimmering sapphire nestled in the hollow of her throat.
That space had once belonged to me.
It had been an unbearable honor to watch Amantha in her element. She was made for this life.
I only lasted a few minutes in her orbit before a few glasses of prosecco helped to dull my senses.
But they also had dulled my inhibitions.
My gaze began to linger for longer. Smiling had felt so good, my facial muscles were unable to do anything else. I struggled to remember why it was so important to keep my distance. Surely, we could be friends, couldn’t we? It all seemed so childish. We were adults, after all.
Before my logic could kick me in the crotch like it should have, I had approached Amantha. Even her cold shoulder couldn’t stop me from blabbering like an idiot, but she rushed away in the end. Away from the monster I was.
The monster I had forgotten I was.
I cursed myself under the emerging stars, the fountain gurgling in agreement.
My tuxedo jacket felt like a straightjacket. After clawing out of the sleeves, I still couldn’t stop myself from folding it neatly and laying it on the bench. I scowled at my inability to toss the stupid thing wherever I pleased like a normal person.
I rested my forearms on my knees, my eyes tracing the lines on my palms.
How could she think I’m a thief?
The assumption only twisted the ice impaling my chest. According to her, Kendra and I had stolen a Cormac Padraig. I screwed my eyes shut.
“Rick’s closet, back shelf, toilet paper box?” The absurd string of information didn’t make any more sense out loud.
A desperate need to clear my name suddenly surged through me. Before my brain could catch up, I grabbed my jacket, withdrew my keycard, and stalked toward the museum.
Amantha had every right to think the truth about me. I was heartless. I was sadistic.
But I’d be damned before I’d let her believe I was a liar.