Raindrops on Roses: Book One of the Favorite Things Trilogy (6 page)

Why the hell were so many
people out driving around at this time of day, anyway? Didn't they
have jobs?
Shit
.

Rummaging through her purse, she grabbed her
phone and shot off a quick e-mail to the client, apologizing
profusely for having to be a few minutes late. And although she
received a swift response assuring her it wasn't a problem—they
could simply push the meeting back a half hour—Amber prayed her
little jaunt to the salon hadn't just cost her a weekly bank
deposit. She had enough stress as it was, trying to figure out what
the hell was going on with Michael.

She had been more than a
little reluctant to acknowledge how off-kilter things had been
feeling between them in the last few months. At first, she had
chalked it up to the typical flux of any long-term relationship—you
couldn't expect things to feel perfect
all
the time, could you?—but as soon
as she managed to placate herself with that, she was slapped with
evidence to the contrary!

For instance. Michael was
disturbingly quiet lately. Sometimes the silences could drag on to
the point where Amber felt
compelled
to fill them. How awkward
it was to be with him in the apartment, neither of them speaking to
each other for hours at a time! So she had begun experimenting,
actually watching the flow and she realized that if she didn't
speak to him,
days
could pass where there would be little to no conversation
between them at all!

"Eggs okay for breakfast?"

"Sure," he might say. "Thanks, Am."

And that would be
it
.

He used to text her several times a day,
oftentimes just so she'd know he was thinking of her. Nowadays, she
was lucky if he texted her when he'd be home late, never mind a
sweetheart text.

But you're in this for the
long haul,
she'd been telling
herself.
You're together forever. That's a
really, really,
really
long time, so stop worrying about these rough
patches.

But this wasn't feeling
much like a rough patch—and that's what frightened her. Amber was
beginning to see a trend she didn't like one bit, and as Michael
became increasingly remote, she knew something would have to give.
And
soon
.

He had
never
been out all night before.
Ever. And he had never let her texts go unanswered before either.
The tension she was seeing in him was also new, and a dull panic
was rising in Amber's soul. A terrible hole had formed in their
relationship and wherever it was, whatever the reason, she was
determined to find and plug it.

A proposal would certainly
get you over this speed bump.
The thought
came to her suddenly, almost bringing tears to her eyes. Of course
she wanted to marry Michael and start a family, but
he
needed to initiate
it.

After they had moved in together, she
figured it would only be a matter of time before he proposed. Even
her mother had said so. Everyone spoke about the future with the
assumption that Michael and Amber would be married in it—it was a
given.

Once the traffic had cleared and she got
back into the apartment, Amber rushed over to the laptop to open up
her files and get connected for the meeting.

Does he even realize how
much I do for him?
she thought, unable to
get her mind off her personal life.
Hell
no!
She'd made that goddamn lasagna from
scratch!

A sigh escaped her lips as she went into the
bedroom to check out her new look. She'd had her long blonde
tresses cut into a short bob, with a striking blend of dark brown,
jet black and caramel highlights. She hoped Michael would take one
look at her and...

God, I hate this,
she thought.
I
hate
this!

She couldn't stand this
insecurity. Like seriously—a new, sexier look was going to plug
this hole?
Really, Amber?
she chastised.
You think
Michael's just losing interest in you because you've had the same
hair since high school? Not likely!

But she did still believe
he loved her. After all, that's why she had fallen for him. Even as
a teen, he had been one of the most kind and considerate people
to
everyone
and
she'd found those qualities extremely attractive.

Having been raised without a father, Amber
experienced a dependability in Michael that she'd never had before.
She always knew he'd have her back. He was happy to pay all the
bills whenever her writing jobs slowed; he always took excellent
care of her in sickness and in health; and he went to bat for her
whenever necessary.

And he moved in with you
for Christ's sake!
she scolded.

Rolling her eyes, thoroughly fed up with
herself, Amber spun around and went into the kitchen. She still had
a few minutes to spare, so she put the kettle on and pulled out a
bag of Earl Grey.

And by the way,
she thought suddenly.
Where the hell is he?

See? This was
exactly
why she couldn't
relax! Michael's afternoon calls—or at least a text to check in
with her?—they'd pretty much stopped. Here it was nearly 4 p.m. and
Amber's phone was silent.

But we connected so well
last night,
she thought.
It was better than ever. Wasn't it?

Great! Now she couldn't
even tell if it was all in her head or not. This was all driving
her bat-shit crazy and something
had
to give. But the thought of
vocalizing these thoughts to Michael scared the crap out of her.
What if it jinxed them?

Pacing back and forth, she mulled it over.
Then making a beeline for the living room, she picked up her cell
phone. Michael usually texted first, but if she really wanted to
know what was happening, she was gonna have to become much more
assertive.

Amber practically poked holes through the
phone as she typed:

Michael? Where r u?
~Shades of Amber~

Feeling a shot of adrenaline from her
decision to take control, she marched back into the kitchen and
poured herself a cup of tea. She sweetened it with the usual two
spoons of honey, but it didn’t help. Routine had always been
Amber’s go-to for stress, but she had never been faced with this
level of anxiety before in their relationship and it wasn't
working.

And it certainly didn't help that it was
over an hour before her phone lit up with a response.

Sorry, Am. Worked right
through lunch. New account. :) — M. Frost —

Although she was still wrapping up her
client meeting, Amber muted the Skype call and responded right
away.

OK. Not bothering u. C U
2nite. Luv u. :) ~Shades of Amber~

She had resumed her meeting, having not
expected another response from Michael, but a few minutes later she
got one.

Love u2. More later. — M.
Frost —

And that was all it took
to calm the waters.
Yes, of course he
still loves you
, she thought, smiling.
Suddenly she was transported back to their teen years—Michael was
kissing her against the locker, calling her his cute little
wish-maker; she was still the cheerleader and he was still the
baseball captain. He had always given her that wink she loved,
saying, "More later," as he walked off to class.

As she put down the phone
now, she stretched in her chair and thanked God she had been able
to land that new client today.
He should
be home soon
, she thought happily. Her
plan was to heat up the rest of the lasagna, make another salad and
have an especially romantic evening.

It was time they took things to the next
level.

•
CHAPTER SEVEN •

O
n the drive back from Emerald Leas that evening, just as he
was entering the mainland from the Mayfair Causeway, Michael's
check engine light came on. He swore and pulled off the highway to
check his gas cap. Other cars flew passed him as he got
out.

Sure enough, he hadn't tightened it well
enough when he had filled up earlier; so once he gave it a few more
turns, the light went right off.

Voila
, he thought, snapping his fingers.
Simple fix
.

When he got back into the
Stingray he saw the text from Amber.
Shit
.
I
should've called her by now
. Truth was,
their pre-dawn tryst had already become a distant memory. More
proof of how routine life with Amber had gotten for him—a
flavorless blend of dull and ordinary.

Meanwhile, Priscilla was
making him feel passionate in ways he'd
never
felt. And for Michael, it was
as if a deep, old wound was finally, but
finally,
beginning to
heal.

Before he had left, she mentioned something
about the weekend. But he and Amber already had a month-old
reservation at Miraval Resort and they were flying out to Arizona
first thing Friday morning. So whatever she had in mind, he knew he
wouldn't be able to make it and he hated the thought of lying to
her about the reason why.

The double-dealing felt
bad.
Really
bad.
It was already taking its toll on him, so he knew he wouldn't keep
it up much longer.
The clock's definitely
ticking on it
, as his friend Jason would
say.

And now that he had gotten
Priscilla to agree to start seeing him, he knew that at
some
point over the
weekend he would have to sit Amber down and break the news to
her...gently. The apartment was in both their names, but as luck
would have it, there was only a few months left on the
lease.

When Douglas Bauer had interrupted Michael
and Priscilla earlier, he had said he'd needed to have a word with
his sister privately, and without being outright rude, hinted that
Michael needed to get lost. So after they all walked back to the
house together, Michael had graciously made his exit, promising
Priscilla he'd be in touch as she'd walked him out, Douglas waiting
impatiently for her in the wings.

And Michael had driven away full of
questions. He wished she had asked him to stay, to wait for her.
But he was also keenly aware of who Priscilla Bauer was, and of the
fact that he himself had a devoted girlfriend waiting for him at
home.

Trouble was, a big part of
Michael didn't want to go home—the part that was
yearning
for
fulfillment. It urged him to run back to Priscilla and tell her
everything. To confess all to Amber and ensure they parted
friends.

Friends?
he thought.
Please! You
know she's gonna be absolutely devastated.

And although she had her issues and could be
a bit overbearing at times, he had always gotten along well enough
with Amber's mom. He knew Julie Holland would be very disappointed
about a break up after he'd been with her daughter for so many
years and a wedding date should've been imminent.

But what else can I do?

He had been on the road
for about an hour when his phone rang. He was surprised to see who
it was. "Hi," he answered, feeling encouraged. "This is a
very
nice surprise—I
wasn't expecting to hear from you so you just made my
evening."

Priscilla chuckled. "Well, I'm glad." She
sounded a bit tired. "I just wanted to call and apologize if my
brother's abruptness offended you earlier. I told him he could've
been a little nicer."

"Hey, no apology's necessary. I know it's a
tough time for your family."

"Oh, you're so sweet," she
said. "Hey, Michael, are you
still
driving? Where exactly do you live anyway? I just
realized I have no clue." She laughed. "You know, we really should
get to know each other just a
little
bit better."

Michael's voice lowered intimately. "Well,
I'd say we've gotten to know each other pretty well already—but I
won't argue the point." He chuckled. "I live in Delray Beach. You
familiar with South Florida?"

"Absolutely," she replied. "I've been down
there quite a bit, I have some good friends in the Boca Delray
area."

"Oh, okay," said Michael,
instinctively deciding to change the subject. "So I don't want to
overstep or anything...but is everything okay with Douglas? He
seemed pretty...
intense
."

"Yeah, yeah. He's fine," she said. "We just
have a lot to deal with right now. It's a pretty major adjustment.
We're going to our lawyer's office tomorrow morning for the reading
of my grandmother's will, so there's that. Plus my mother's been
acting up, causing problems for us at the hotel. She's basically
trying to take over." She sighed. "And it's just, like, the last
thing we need going on over there right now, you know?"

"Did your grandmother not want her to run
things?" Michael asked. "Is it possible she left her in
charge?"