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Chapter2
Amelia
“You look like you stayed up all night partying,” Penelope says to me as we walk through the airport after going through security.
“Gee, thanks.” She’s not wrong, though. While she looks like a walking doppelgänger for Cindy Crawford, I look like Weird Al’s long-lost cousin who slept with their finger in a light socket. My hair is unruly today from how hard I tossed and turned on my pillow.
“Seriously? Everything okay?”
“I didn’t sleep well,” I reply, and it’s the truth, just not the entire truth.
Running into Ethan last night kept replaying through my head all evening as I showered and finished packing for the trip. A mixture of dread and fear filtered through my mind along with what may happen now that he's opening up his practice across the courtyard from mine.
Why on earth would the owner of the building agree to have a marriage counselor and a divorce attorney that close to each other? That’s like letting Walmart and Target build stores right across the street from each other.
Um, Amelia, are you stupid? Target and Walmart literally do that. It’s good business.
Ugh, shut up, subconscious. You’re supposed to be on my side.
But honestly, how on earth will this be a good thing? I've built a name for myself in Los Angeles by helping people save their marriages or heal after sexual trauma. I've waited years to finally open up my own office and build a practice that I can be proud of. And now, before I can officially open the doors, one of the worst possible scenarios has happened—the antithesis of what I stand for will be a mere few feet away from my door, inviting those looking for a way out instead of wanting to fight for love.
The possibilities are endless for how this might go.
My mind just kept spinning until almost two in the morning, and by the time my alarm went off at six, I felt like I had run a marathon in my sleep. I’m not going to lie; I was actually relieved this morning when I woke up to know that I wouldn’t have to face him for a few days. It would give me time to get my head on straight.
“Okay. I have my snacks and my water, so now I feel like I can relax.” Noelle walks over to where Penelope and I found seats outside of our gate as we wait to board our flight. She brushes her light-brown hair over her shoulder as she offers me a piece of her sour candy. “You want one?”
“No, thank you.”
“Something is bothering Amelia Be Delia, but she’s not talking,” Penelope says as she leans forward in her seat, glancing up at Noelle.
Noelle takes the chair next to me. “What’s going on?” Her eyes dip up and down my body. “On second thought, yeah, you don’t look like you right now.”
“And how do I normally look?”
“Honestly? A little uptight, always put together, confident but in a classy way,” Penelope answers for her.
I’m so unsettled that I can’t even act offended. “I don’t disagree. I like feeling put together.”
“But you look frazzled, especially your hair,” Noelle says. “You sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No. Not yet.”
Penelope and Noelle share a look across me, but I continue to stare straight forward, hoping that I can fall asleep on the flight and wake up more relaxed when we land in Hawaii.
“Well, as soon as we land, we’ll get some drinks, and hopefully, that will loosen you up enough to spill the deets.” Penelope rubs my shoulder.
“I can’t wait to relax a bit by the pool. I loaded my Kindle with so many books to make sure I’d have something to read,” Noelle adds.
Penelope’s brows draw together. “Don’t you ever get tired of having your nose stuck in a book?”
“Nope. Reading is such an escape, and with romance, you’re guaranteed a happily ever after. The tension is so exciting, the build up to the moment where they give in makes your heart race, and then when the shit hits the fan, it’s like you can’t read fast enough to find out if they get back together.”
Penelope and I scoff at the same time. “Nothing, even a happily ever after, is guaranteed in real life, Noelle. Sorry to break it to you.”
Noelle sighs as she slumps in her chair. “That may be true, but I refuse to believe that will happen to us. I know the right men are out there for us. And heck, they may be in our lives at this very moment,” she states assuringly.
I scoff again as I stand. “I need to use the restroom. Watch my bag?” I say as Noelle nods, and I walk away, wanting to possess the optimism my friend has. And normally, I do. But right now? I’m not sure of anything except how off-kilter and defeated I feel.
* * *
“Ah!” Charlotte power walks across the hotel lobby, screeching like a wild bird as she greets each of us with a hug. “You’re here!”
“We made it. Barely,” Penelope says as she takes off her sunglasses and rolls her eyes. “I had a child behind me on the plane that kept kicking my seat. If I didn’t respect the sacrifice his mother made for him to be alive, I would have pulled his oxygen mask down from the ceiling and used it on him like a muzzle.”
Noelle smacks her. “He wasn’t that bad.”
“Easy for you to say. You were too engrossed in a book with your earplugs in to notice.”
“New author?” Charlotte asks Noelle, whose day job is a literary agent specializing in the romance genre. The girl is always reading a new book, and I think it’s where her romantic nature comes from. As soon as we boarded the plane, she popped her earbuds in and ignored us for the rest of the almost six-hour flight.
“Yes. And a very promising one at that. I haven’t had a book capture me like this one in a long time. I’ll tell you about it later.”
“You and your dirty books,” Penelope snickers with a teasing grin.
“Hey. As Rachel from Friends would say, I am not ashamed of my books. There is nothing wrong with a woman enjoying a little erotica.”
“Oh, I’m not arguing with you. I just think it’s impressive that you can read that smut and keep a straight face on the plane.”
Noelle smiles proudly. “Years of practice, my friend.”
As I slide up behind them, Charlotte takes in my appearance and starts asking the same questions I’ve been dodging since Noelle and Penelope picked me up on the way to the airport. “Hey, Amelia. You okay?”
“Oh, yes. I’m…fine,” I stutter, trying to hold together my nerves. I thought arriving here would put me more at ease, but my social anxiety is starting to rear its ugly head.
“Something happened to our little Amelia Be Delia, but she insists everything is fine. Perhaps you can get her to speak up once we get some alcohol in her system,” Penelope explains.
Charlotte shifts her sight back over to me with a furrow of her brow. “Okay, well, let’s get you checked in first. I know you all must be hungry.”
“Starving and in need of alcohol,” Penelope replies as Charlotte leads us over to the concierge’s desk to receive our keys.
