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Maybe she’d end up being the one to put a stop to this relationship, after all.
The doubts that had surfaced in me after our night together at my place had melted away with each passing day, replaced by the warm feeling that had been growing inside me from the start. Even after seeing David and feeling the pangs of guilt fresher than ever, I was hopelessly in Amelia’s thrall. She was irresistible to me, and any reservations I harbored about us were superseded by the feelings I had been developing for her.
Now, the thought of Amelia ending things had me feeling more conflicted than ever.
I wasn’t strong enough to put a stop to this myself; if I had been, I would’ve done it weeks ago. Instead, I spent more and more time thinking about Amelia, spending my nights with her, missing her while I was out of town.
The truth was, I cared about her.
If she wanted to cut things off, it would be brutal, but I would understand. It would hurt more than anything I could imagine, but I cared about her so much that I wouldn’t want to make her feel guilty or obligated if she had changed her mind about me. If Amelia ended things between us, I’d let her go, and do my best to find a way out of the inevitable pain her absence would create.
I hoped I was wrong about my worries. Maybe I was being too dramatic, too needy, and overthinking things. If I could just talk to her, have a conversation beyond the short text messages and missed calls, everything would become clearer. I was probably making a mountain out of a molehill, and Amelia was truly swamped at the hospital. We would reconnect once her workload calmed down.
Besides, I needed to focus on work myself. I had wall-to-wall meetings with colleagues and a happy hour chat scheduled with another client tonight. In between teleconferencing out of my home office with brokers and other agents and escrow officers, I called Amelia again, but her phone went straight to voicemail. I left a short message asking if everything was OK and hoped she would call me back.
By the end of the day, I still hadn’t heard from her. When I headed out to meet my client for happy hour, I wondered if I’d hear back at all.
The restaurant was in the Gaslamp Quarter of downtown San Diego, so I had to commute from La Jolla during the worst time of day for traffic–a reason to leave early and make sure I could find parking.
I arrived earlier than scheduled. Once I made it into the city and found a secure garage several long blocks away, I started making my way to the restaurant. Happy couples and groups of friends laughed and chatted on the patios of restaurants I passed, their conversations a chaotic background to my quiet mood. While I walked, my thoughts drifted to Amelia, questions filling my mind. When would I see her again? Was she doing OK? How much longer could I bear to wait for her to answer my calls and my texts?
Lost in my thoughts, strolling past a lively patio bar, I was startled when I heard someone call my name.
“Nathaniel! Oh my God!” It was Colleen, wearing a low-cut purple top and flashy gold jewelry, sitting on a barstool with a couple of friends. She hopped down, martini in hand, and walked to the edge of the gated patio where I stood with my hands in my pockets.
“Hi, Colleen,” I said, smiling cordially, taken off guard by running into her. After the uncomfortable encounter at her birthday party, and now that I had learned from David that their marriage had become strained, I was wary of making a social misstep–and wary of Colleen, altogether.
She leaned over the low gate that separated the patio from the sidewalk and gave me a one-armed hug, holding her drink precariously to one side and lingering a bit too long. Her perfume was so strong, I knew instantly that I’d be smelling it on myself hours later. When she let go of me, her hand swept down my arm slowly, grazing my fingers.
I swiftly pulled them away.
“It’s always so nice to see you, Nathaniel. What are you doing down here in the Gaslamp? Have you got a hot date? Or is it still the single life for you?” Her flirtatious behavior was obvious; her voice, her body language, her knowing smirk.
“Oh, no. No dates for me,” I said, shifting on my feet. “I’m just here to meet a client up the street for drinks. The meetings never stop.”
“Interesting, interesting. Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately,” she said, her tone syrupy and her eyes raking down my body.
“Me?” I imagined she might be referring to the conversation Amelia told me about when she’d had dinner at her parents’ place. Something about setting me up with one of Colleen’s insufferable friends.
At least, I hoped that’s all it was.
“Yes, you,” she said, playfully elbowing me. “I’m heading up to Newport Beach to the new vacation property this weekend with one of my girlfriends. You should totally swing by! It’s not far, and it’s even less so from La Jolla. You could give me the ins and outs of the real estate market in the area.”
“I’m not sure I understand… are you thinking of selling the property already?”
“God, no.” She twirled her brown hair hanging just above her bustline, darker than Amelia’s and more elaborately styled. “I’ve been trying to talk David into purchasing another home up there to use as rental income. Maybe even as a special event property, or a place we could lease out to film production companies. But David says one ‘one property at a time.’ He’s no fun.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I certainly wasn’t going to agree with her.
“You, on the other hand,arefun,” she said. I swallowed to mask a grimace. “So, what do you say about coming up this weekend? I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”
Her eyelashes fluttered rapidly. She brought a hand up to my arm again, squeezing my bicep lightly and letting her long acrylic nails scrape down to my elbow.
My body wanted to recoil, to back away, but I couldn’t exactly pull that off without appearing rude. If I had given in to my instinct, I would have been long gone from that patio by then. Instead, I had to grin and bear it, and try to deftly remove myself from the situation with as little awkwardness as possible.
It was getting more difficult with each passing minute.
“I’m afraid I’m really swamped this weekend. Sorry about that.” I reached for my phone in my pocket and checked the time. “Hey, it looks like I need to get going so I’m not late for my client. It was nice bumping into you, Colleen. Please say hello to David for me.”
