Chapter 33
thirty-three
AMANTHA
On Saturday morning, Mom’s sounds from the kitchen woke me from a deep sleep. My eyes felt like they had been rubbed with sand.
I had dreamt up that nightmare of a wedding again last night, and it was exhausting. I never could shake the sensation of Ryan’s kisses, or the look of Val’s cruel smile as he taunted me that I wasn’t Stella. That I never would be.
Each time I’d had the nightmare, it had the nasty habit of staying with me all day. Like staring at black dots on a white paper for too long, I saw ghostly replications everywhere I looked: a stained glass window, a flash of Anthony’s lavender tie, and candlelit silk.
Rolling over, I debated avoiding reality altogether and falling back to sleep. While the idea tempted me, there were too many loose ends from last night. I should text Blythe, possibly even Kendra, to apologize for vanishing during the event. And Kate might be worried too.
The thought of the Cormac Padraig summoned another wave of exhaustion. Should I alert the authorities? The evidence I found wasn’t exactly the smoking gun I had hoped for, but it was something. The foul play was undeniable. But what did the evidence even prove?
My rant by the fountain came rushing back. Without the red haze of fury, last night looked slightly different now. Val’s chestnut irises had seemed genuinely worried about me. Or was acting just another one of his hidden talents?
The whole situation still felt off, but for the first time, I wasn’t sure my assumptions about Val had been correct.
I rolled onto my stomach, shoving my face into a pillow. This was too much, too early.
I couldn’t turn Val in now. Val had broken my heart, but did he deserve to be implicated in a crime he may not have committed? I couldn’t do that to an innocent man, no matter how badly I wanted to avenge myself.
Within the fluffy mound of my pillow, my eyes stung at the notion he could have possibly just been Val. Not a criminal, but a man I still loved—despite my best efforts not to. An innocent man listening to the accusations spilling from my itching throat.
If only I had a time machine.
Last night, I hadn’t only unleashed on Val. No, those words had been meant for Ryan too. And regardless of what he had done, Val didn’t deserve to be held accountable for the actions of my cheating ex.
I groaned into a sitting position, still clumsy from sleep. Clutching the soft comforter to my chest, I tried to breathe through my anxiety.
The pit in my stomach only grew heavier.
Something felt wrong.
Really wrong.
Intuition made me reach for my cell phone and unplug the charger. A rapid intake of breath jolted me awake.
I flicked the scrolling notifications on my lock screen one, two, three times.
Twelve missed calls. Nine texts. Three voicemails.
I scrambled to check the log of missed calls.
Val had called multiple times around two in the morning.
The rest were from Ryan, and even a few from Vanessa— their timestamps beginning around four in the morning. A shiver ran down my spine.
Anthony.
My trembling fingers dialed Ryan’s phone number. If something had happened to my baby, he better be thanking the heavens that his royal jewels were on a different continent.
“Pick up. Pick up,” I said, twisting my comforter into nervous whirlpools.
“Hello?”
“Ryan, what’s going on? Is Anthony okay?”
“You would already know if you had bothered to answer your phone last night.”
I gaped at the nerve. “It was the middle of the freaking night, Ryan. What happened?”
“If you would stop talking, I’d explain.”
“Explain. Faster,” I said through clenched teeth.
“He’s doing fine now, but Anthony broke his arm this morning.”
I sprang to my knees as if in prayer. “He what? H-how did that happen?”
“This morning, well, I guess the ‘middle of the freaking night’ for you, we started on our Vespa tour here in Venice. We got in an accident.”
“You let our son drive a Vespa?!”
“Jeez, Amantha, calm down. You always overreact. No, I was driving, and it’s perfectly legal for him to be my passenger.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to calm down! Is he in the hospital? I’m looking up flights right now. Don’t let the doctors give him penicillin, Ryan, he’s allergic—”
“Don’t worry about the penicillin; I’m not an idiot.
And don’t fly out here. The last thing Anthony needs is you getting all worked up.
He’ll be fine. I mean, he did take the brunt of the fall and we all got pretty scratched up, but the bone didn’t even break the skin.
The doctors said it will heal just fine after they were done operating—”
“Operating? He had surgery?” I whispered as the blood drained from my body.
“Well yeah, he needed a few pins. I couldn’t exactly wait for you to finish your beauty sleep to give the docs the go-ahead. We’re hanging out here until the doctors discharge us. We might have to cut the trip short depending on—”
“Give him the phone.”
Ryan huffed again. “Amantha, come on. Don’t be so emotional. Let him rest.”
“Ryan Fitzpatrick Willis, you give him the damn phone right now or I’ll sue.”
A shocked silence followed.
Maybe the rant at the fountain had loosened my tongue, but the mama bear inside me felt ready to tear him limb from limb.
“Okay, jeez. Just proved my point, but fine.”
A slight rustling preceded Anthony’s small, tired voice.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, baby, I’m so, so sorry. Are you okay? Are you in pain?” Tears streamed from my useless self, completely incapable of doing anything for my intercontinental son.
“I’m good now. I mean, it killed at first, but the pain meds are working now.”
“Honey, I’m so sorry this happened. I can be there tomorrow, okay? Don’t worry, baby, you just rest up. I’ll see you soon.” I tried to sound brave even as my falling tears dotted my bedspread.
“It’s okay, Mom. Really. Like Dad said, I’m going to be fine. I mean, unless you have super bone healing powers...”
His weak joke only made me cry harder.
“It’s going to be okay, Anthony, I promise. Let me talk to your dad and we’ll figure everything out. I love you so, so much.”
“Okay, Mom. Love you too.”
“Yeah?” How Ryan’s voice could still hold such a cocky challenge was beyond me.
“Okay, Ryan, don’t take this the wrong way—or do—but comforting has never been your strong suit. I’m flying in tomorrow.”
“Amantha! Just stop, okay? I’ve got this handled.” He paused, then grumbled, “I mean, I’ll admit I’m not the best at this stuff, but Vanessa’s here.” His voice softened into something that made me want to gag. “She’s really good at this kind of thing. Plus, they’ve really bonded.”
A slap of jealousy overcame me before the strangest secondary emotion accompanied it.
Relief.
Trusting Ryan to take care of Anthony through this alone scared me. But at least at the bare minimum, Vanessa was there to comfort my baby when I couldn’t be. I blew out a frustrated, bewildered breath.
“Let me talk to Vanessa.”
“I’m sorry, what?” It was as if I’d asked Ryan to go streaking through Italy wearing nothing but a beret.
“Let me talk to Vanessa,” I said.
“Um, hello?” Even from over the Atlantic, Vanessa’s voice was still so annoying.
“Vanessa. Hi. Listen, whatever you do, make sure Anthony stays on top of his pain meds. He’ll try to play it tough. Don’t let him. Also…” I expelled a heavy breath. “Um… Thank you for taking care of him. I’m glad he has you there.” My words faded into a stunned silence.
Vanessa’s irritating tone softened. Slightly.
“Of course. There’s no place I’d rather be. I’ll do everything I can to keep Anthony comfortable until he’s back home with you and Val. I think that was his name, right? In the park? Oh, here’s Ry. I think the doctors are coming back.”
I heard a muffled, “Who’s Val?” and Vanessa’s garbled response that I couldn’t make out.
Great. Just great.
Ryan’s muffled voice became as loud and sharp as a blade.
“Well, looks like you’ve got a tough conversation coming once I get back.
But I’m going to focus on Anthony right now.
The docs said if there’s complications, they want Anthony’s follow up appointment to be in the states.
I’ll know by tomorrow. Just stay put until then.
There’s no point in coming if we’re flying back. ”
The fight left my body, leaving me slumped and clammy against my pillow.
“...a tough conversation coming once I get back…”
What did that mean? Was he hinting at another custody battle?
All I managed to say was, “If anything changes, call me immediately. Do you hear me?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll call.” Then he hung up.
My emotions were so intertwined, I couldn’t begin to find the frayed ends to pick the knot apart.
Anthony had been in an accident.
He had undergone surgery.
Without me.
I felt, unequivocally, like the world’s worst mother.
I had allowed my irresponsible ex to take my child to another continent for months.
For the second time this morning, I wished for a time machine.
I would have never signed that decree amendment to let Ryan take him abroad.
If only I had been willing to give Ryan joint custody in the first place, none of this would have happened.
Instead, I’d been selfish.
And my selfishness had resulted in my baby being injured, scared, and 4,656 miles away from me. And despite all my efforts to keep my job, it sounded like I was going to have to fight Ryan for custody all over again. I covered my rapidly cascading tears with my forearm.
How could I have let this happen? What on earth was I doing? Galavanting about the museum? Playing detective?
This isn’t who I am. I’m Anthony’s mother, and I’ve failed him.
My body shook with emotion. A wrecking ball of guilt crashed through every dream I ever had. Last night, I had barely thought about Anthony at all. No, I had been clothed in velvet finery, toasting Stirling, and quarreling with my estranged lover. When had I become so shallow?
Who was I kidding? This isn’t me.
My sobs continued. I received a text message, and I picked up my phone to read it through blurry tears.
RYAN: We got the clearance to leave the hospital. His appointment is in two days. Anthony will be back in the states by Wednesday if there are complications. If not, we’ll head back on the fourteenth like we planned.
AMANTHA: Keep me posted on everything.
I had only been awake for an hour and felt exhausted to the bone. I was abhorred with myself. With my weakness. Disgusted that even as Anthony lay thousands of miles away in a hospital bed, I still couldn’t keep my thoughts from straying to Val.
My accusation of his involvement with the forgery had been a crutch. I had clung to that crutch like a life raft—the one logical reason that could make sense of his abandonment. With that crutch gone, I fell into unbearable despair.
It was rejection, pure and simple.
The new wave of grief was exquisite, making me ache in places I had forgotten about. I realized in this moment that I was never—would never—be enough for him.
I knew, without a doubt, that I could never see Val again.
A shuddering sob racked my body as I unlocked my phone. Despite me dying to hear from him one more time, I opened Val’s unread text thread and swiped left to delete it. Delete him. There was nothing he could say to fix the cracked panes of my heart.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I swiped left three more times, deleting each unopened voicemail. Deleting the sound of him forever.
After the performance of a lifetime, the curtains were closing.
Enough was enough.
I knew who I was. It was who I had always been.
Who I had only ever been allowed to be.
Anthony’s mom. A suburban ex-wife. A member of the PTA.
I dialed another number, swallowing my tears in an effort to stabilize my voice.
“Hello, Blythe?”
My confused boss picked up the phone. “Amantha?”
“So sorry to call you on a Saturday. First off, I’m sorry for disappearing last night. It was kind of an emergency. And I found out this morning that my son broke his arm.”
I waited as Blythe fired question after question, and I answered them as quickly as they came.
“Yes, he may be coming home early. No, I really need to focus on him right now.” I squeezed my eyes, my chest doing the same. “Blythe, this has all been a dream come true, and I’m thankful to have had the opportunity, but I think it’s time I resign.”