16. Amias
SIXTEEN
AMIAS
Ann stared at me, her eyes wide. Disbelief written all over her face.
I'd asked to meet at her place in Cambridge so that I could leave after the drama of the breakup was over.
The last time we'd broken up had been at my place, and it had taken all night to get her out, and she'd spent the night calling me names until I'd walked out.
She'd still been there in the morning when she apologized and left, telling me I'd regret breaking up with her.
I was expecting something similar this time.
"But we're going to Switzerland at the end of the week. We're getting engaged, Amias. Your mother has a photographer coming over to take pictures."
"She never ran any of this by me, Ann, and if she had, I would've told her not to. You concocted this on your own with her," I reminded her.
I'd have to call my mother after to let her know that Ann would not be her daughter-in-law no matter how suitable she thought she was.
I didn't want to be in a relationship with Ann.
I'd spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted in a life partner, and all the things that came to mind were not qualities Ann possessed.
Since I'd not been pressured to propose to a woman before, I'd never actually paid attention to what I wanted.
When I did, I realized that I wanted more than a good-looking career woman; I wanted a woman who cared, who was kind not just when it suited her needs but when it didn't, a woman who wanted me for me and not because of my last name.
Ultimately, I wanted a woman who loved me and who I loved.
And love to me meant that I would want to spend time with this person and not because she nagged me.
I would want to buy her things and not because I was making up for something.
I would want to be with her simply for the pleasure of her company and not because there was a social event or party somewhere.
Ann and I rarely were alone together except in bed, where we fucked and slept.
Most of the time it was going from one place to another.
We rarely spent time…just us. Sometimes, we'd stop for a drink or a meal, but always it would be on our way to somewhere else where we were meeting other people.
I wanted intimacy with my woman, and I didn't have that with Ann.
This was what my parents had, a society marriage, mostly for others to see rather than the participants to experience.
"Are you cheating on me? Have you met someone else?" Ann demanded.
I'd sat on an armchair away from her while she was on her couch.
"No, Ann. I'd never do that."
Was it cheating to touch someone's lips or want to kiss them? Yes. Yes, it was. And I was an asshole for doing that, but I couldn't help how I felt. I tried to curb it, but it kept popping back up.
She came to me and went on her knees in front of me. I hated that she did that and hauled her up. "Stop that, Ann. Sit down, and let's talk like adults."
"But I don't want to talk about this."
Her eyes watered. But they filled up all the time and with ease.
It was her tactic with me, and it usually worked.
I remembered another woman, a strong woman who never showed emotions, until I hurt her so badly that she had tears in her eyes; those had all but drowned me in guilt. I didn't feel like that now.
I sat her down on the sofa and went back to the armchair so we could have distance.
"Don't do this, Amias. We're meant to be. We've always ended up with each other, and that's because we love?—"
"What does love mean to you, Ann?" I asked, my elbows resting on my knees as I leaned forward.
"It means you, and you mean everything," she whispered.
"What does that mean? What do you love about me?"
"Everything."
"Ann, what specifically do you love about me?" I demanded because I knew what she was doing, extending this breakup conversation in the hope that I'd change my mind by the end of it. She'd done that a few times before and succeeded in convincing me to keep the relationship going.
"I love how confident you are. How successful you are.
I love how you look…you're so handsome. I love the way you take control in bed.
I love how you care for me—you always buy me something to cheer me up, and it's always something you know I'll love.
The way you remember to make sure I have my favorite perfume. The way?—"
"Ann, what do you love about me?" I repeated because what she was telling me was not love; it was not even like.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
"What is it about my personality that appeals to you?"
She looked baffled. "Everything, Amias."
"I like that you're successful in your career.
I like how smart you are. I like how sexy you are both in and out of bed.
I like how you give head," I listed. "I don't like how you're bitchy to those you think are beneath you.
You give something only if you know you'll get something in return.
I dislike how you can be cruel to some people; that you care more about how much money someone has rather than who they are. "
Tears were flowing down her cheeks.
"You don't mean that."
"I do, Ann."
"Who have I been cruel to?"
"Lots of people in the years we've known each other."
She got up again, her eyes going from sad to angry faster than a Porsche 911 Turbo S.
"This is about Naya, isn't it?" Her mouth twisted into something cruel and unpleasant.
"What?"
"I see how you look at her. You think I don't know how you watch her just as much as she watches you?"
"You're nuts." Hayes was right…again.
She came up to me, and I rose. "She may have a crush on you, but you have one on her too. Isn't that right? Do you know why she wears pants all the time? Why she covers her body?"
"Ann, you don't want to do this."
"Because she has burn scars," she spoke over me. "Kara showed me pictures. If you think you can fuck her with the lights on the way you like it, think again."
Burn scars? No wonder she wore loose clothes. She must've gotten used to them when she was recovering. That made sense. Darren had mentioned a car accident at The Langham. Fuck! Naya had gotten hurt.
"Naya resigned, Ann," I told her. "She's not even going to be working at Midas. And you're wrong about how I feel about Naya."
"How do you feel?" she demanded.
"Mostly, I feel bad for her. I feel bad that Nolan is an asshole to her. I feel bad that I was a jerk to her at work. I feel bad that she is paying a mountain of debt for her father's medical bills with no help from said asshole brother."
"You feel so sorry for little Naya that you want to fuck her?" she asked in a childish sing-song voice, venom pouring out of her.
"What's wrong with you?"
"You. You are what is wrong with me. I have invested years in getting you to a place where you'd propose. Years, Amias. Every time we broke up, I was the one who made sure we got back together again. Now is our time, and you're dumping me? A week before Christmas?"
"You're the one who gave me an ultimatum, Ann. I don't want to get engaged to you."
"Then let's wait. We don't have to break up," she pleaded.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, Ann. I will never want to marry you."
"Why? Because I was mean to your little Naya?" she demanded viciously.
I took a step away from her. How had I ever imagined I loved this woman? She was so caught up in her own insecurities that she lashed out at others.
"You know, Amias, if you want to fuck Miss Disgusting, go right ahead and do it. When you're ready to come back, know that this time I'm going to make you crawl." The malice in her voice was a complete turn off; whatever guilt I was feeling for ending our relationship vanished.
"Yeah, so we're done." I walked to her front door. She followed me and grabbed my arm.
"Don't do this. You will regret it."
I removed her hand gently. "Ann, I know I'll regret it if we stay together. I don't love you, not the way I want to love the woman I marry. We had fun, but marriage? No way."
"You were having fun with me?"
"Yes, Ann, we were both having a good time being in a relationship. That's what dating is about."
"I wasn't dating you, Amias." She slapped me hard. I didn't even flinch. "I was marrying you."
"You don't want to do that again," I told her.
She threw herself at me. "I'm so sorry, Amias. I am. It's just that I can't live without you. I love you so much."
I put my hands on her arms and set her aside as gently and firmly as I could. "Ann, you don't love me. You don't even know what that means. You're more excited about becoming Mrs. Westbrook than you are about becoming my wife."
"How can you say that?"
"Regardless of how you feel, I don't love you enough to marry you." I hated saying these words, but we'd been here before, and I knew she'd keep pushing me until she could break me into saying, fine, let's stay together. Not this time.
I was an idiot for starting up with her this time because I knew it would end like this.
Or at least I should've known. I didn't want her to live with me.
I didn't want her to stay every night with me.
I didn't want to discuss how I really felt with her because I didn't want the drama.
The truth was that I wasn't in a relationship with Ann—it was a dalliance at best.
"Amias, don't do this. We love each other."
"Ann, get a grip. We were dating for six fucking months this time around, and we weren't together for years in between. We don't have some long fucking love story."
"I never stopped loving you. I let you go each time so you could go sow your wild oats but I'm thirty-five now and it's time to settle down, Amias."
"Not with you, Ann, I'm sorry."
She raised her hand to hit me again, but I caught her wrist and held it away from me. "I told you, you don't want to do that again."
She wriggled her wrist, and I released her. "You're an asshole, Amias."
"You should be happy then that we're breaking up. Oh, and in case it's not clear, Switzerland is canceled for Christmas. Let Nolan and Kara know as well. Since you invited them without consulting me."
"Your mother wants us there, asshole. So, we'll be there. There's nothing you can do about it."
I felt bad for Ann because she thought she wielded more power than she had.
"Then you're free to talk to her about it. I'll be telling her shortly that you and I are not together."
I didn't add that the only interest Vivianne Westbrook had in Ann was to see her as my wife. She wouldn't care who I replaced Ann with as long as she came with the same or better family pedigree.
I walked out of her apartment then for what I knew was the last time. There would be no going back after this. Thank fuck!