Love to Love Her YAC (44 page)

Lydia sighs and clasps her hands together in
front of her. I feel like I have whiplash. I’m dying to know the
reason for their sudden shift in spirits, but there doesn’t seem to
be any good way to ask. After a moment of silence I finally work up
the nerve to speak. “Is everything okay?”

Lydia clears her throat. “Yeah,” she replies,
sounding anything but certain of that fact. She nods at my empty
wine glass. “Another?” she asks.

I look at her, once again on the tipping
point between staying and going. Finally I shake my head. “No,
thanks. I can help you with these dishes though.” I help Lydia
clear the table, then stand beside her at the kitchen sink while
she washes the dishes and I dry them. Fifteen minutes later we’re
all finished, and Amelia still hasn’t come back. I’d hoped to see
her again, but I’ve run out of reasons to stay. Lydia is clearly
distracted; she keeps glancing in the direction her friend
disappeared like she feels compelled to go and check on her.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, knowing I need to
give them their space.

“You’re welcome,” Lydia replies absently.
“We’ll do it again soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say – and I mean
it. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun eating
dinner.

Amelia – 8:30 PM

I
’m curled up on my
side, clutching a pillow to my stomach as I listen to Grady’s
unintelligible sobs carrying through the phone. This entire
conversation has been an emotional roller coaster, very closely
mirroring our relationship as a whole. My ex-fiancé has alternated
between cursing at me and begging me to take him back, sometimes
within the same breath.

“God baby,
please
– I know I fucked
up.
Please
.” There was a time when hearing him cry like this
would’ve tugged at my heart strings, but not now, especially not
when I know he’s probably been drinking again. I wish he’d just let
me off the phone. I’d been having such an unexpectedly
good
evening.

I sigh as I remove my glasses and massage my
shut eyelids. A soft knock at the door startles me; I hear the knob
turn as I twist around to see Lydia lingering cautiously in the
doorway.

“Listen, Grady,” I say, looking at Lydia. “I
know we need to talk, okay? And we will. Just not tonight. I need
some time.”

He draws in another shaky breath. “Don’t hang
up on me, Amelia,” he croaks, sounding perfectly miserable. “I love
you so much.”

I almost return the sentiment out of mere
habit, but thankfully I catch myself. The last thing I want is to
give him any false hope. “I’m not hanging up on you, but I’m
telling you I have to go. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“No, don’t—“ he begins, but I cut him
off.

“Goodnight, Grady. I mean it – don’t call me.
I will talk to you later.” I disconnect the call and toss the phone
down on the comforter, physically and emotionally spent.

“He got your note, I take it,” says Lydia as
she walks into the room and sits down on the futon mattress beside
me. I nod, sitting up and then slumping against her. She wraps
comforting arms around me and begins to rock gently back and forth.
“Think he’ll come here?” she asks.

I shrug. “Probably. I knew when I came here
it wouldn’t exactly be hiding. Grady knows you’re my only friend in
this town.”

Lydia sighs. “You’re gonna have to quit doing
that, babe.”

“Doing what?”

“Putting yourself down. Seriously, when I met
you, you were one of the most confident girls I’d ever seen. You
were so comfortable in your own skin. Please don’t lose that. It’s
what made me instantly love you.”

I suck in a breath in an attempt to fight off
the tears threatening to spill from my tired eyes. It isn’t enough
just to mourn the death of my relationship – it’s even more
heartbreaking having to mourn the loss of a part of myself as
well.