“You really live at that apartment complex?”
“Yes, Britt. Everything else I’ve told you about myself is true. Including my feelings for you.”
She couldn’t speak, could barely think. While he’d been telling her his story, he’d been absently running his fingers through his thick hair, and it now looked wild and untamed. He was wearing the tuxedo, except for the tie and jacket, his biceps tight against his crisp white shirt. In his honest anguish, he still somehow managed to be heart-stoppingly handsome.
“I love you, Britt,” he said. “I know it’s soon, but it’s the truth. I don’t want to hide anything from you anymore—”
“Stop.” She pushed away from the table and went to the other side of the room. She had to, or else she’d fall under his spell again. “You don’t mean it.”
“I do.” He jumped up and went to her. “I promise. I’m telling the truth.”
And that’s what scared her. Because she could understand his past—somewhat. Reconciling with her father, hearing his story, and seeing him turn his life around had made her realize that people could change for the better. She believed Hunter when he said he was clean and sober.
But she’d never been able to understand why he wanted her. She still couldn’t, especially now that she knew what he came from. She would never measure up to the Picketts or live in the world that Hunter would return to. And he would, eventually. She knew deep inside he would be successful at whatever he decided to do now that he had reset his life. Eventually he would get tired of her fragility, her anxiousness, her lack of glamour.He’d be surrounded by beautiful, sophisticated women. His type of woman. Something she could never be.
“Britt, please—”
She turned her back on him. Swallowed her tears.
“That’s it?” His voice cracked. “I just bared my heart and soul to you.”
Her whole body started to shake, but she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t back down.
“I guess I was a fool too.”
Britt heard him storm out of the room and she gripped the wall in front of her. When Maude dashed in, she turned around, barely able to speak.
“What happened?” Maude asked, stricken. “That boy looked like death warmed over.”
Somehow, she managed not to cry. Or maybe she just didn’t have any tears left.
***
The next morning, Amy rolled out of bed, her eyes puffy and her head throbbing. After Daniel and Hunter left last night, she finally realized why the kid looked so familiar. Hunter Pickett, Arthur Pickett’s son. She still wasn’t sure how he was involved with Britt, but she was going to find out today. If Britt wasn’t home by noon, she was going to march over to Maude’s and make her leave.
In the back of her mind, she knew she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, force Britt to do anything. But she was still so angry. Seeing Daniel last night, hearing what had happened to him and how he had changed—that made everything worse. Because as he talked and told her his story, she realized even through her haze ofanger that he looked good. Healthier than she’d ever seen him. His green eyes weren’t bloodshot from alcohol and hangovers, his skin was lightly tanned, his body more filled out. Right before the divorce, Daniel had been skinnier than a rail. Living on a liquid diet would do that to a person.
She didn’t want to have sympathy for him. She wanted to hate him for what he’d done to her and Britt.
Soon after she entered the kitchen to make coffee and find the Tylenol, the phone in her hand rang. Hoping it was Britt, she was disappointed to see Laura’s name pop up. Then she realized her friend had to be wanting a detailed report about the night before. Amy ignored the call, set the phone on the table, and made coffee.
By the time the pot was full, Laura had called three more times.Uh-oh.
Hopefully something wasn’t wrong with her or Farah. She quickly answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
“That was my question,” Laura said, sounding concerned. “We were supposed to meet for breakfast an hour ago. Where are you?”
Amy stilled, the coffeepot in her hand. How had she forgotten her breakfast date with Laura? “I’m home,” she said, the pot wobbly as she poured the brew into her cup. “I’m sorry, it completely slipped my mind.”
“You had that much of a good time last night?” Laura teased.
She set the pot down and pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself not to cry.
“Amy?”
“I...”
“I’m on my way over.”
