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I had to be strong for her.
Wiping the blood off my hand, I gently took her palm into mine.
“Let’s go,” I whispered. She nodded.
We walked out the front door, got into the car, and drove away from the man we both loved, not knowing if he would ever speak to either one of us again.
Chapter 33
Amelia
It had been two weeks since my father fought Nathaniel, and I hadn’t heard from either of my parents. I had been right to worry about my father’s reaction–and Nathaniel had the bruises to prove it. Watching my father use his fists could only have been worse if Nathaniel had been aggressive back, and I was grateful that he had chosen to take the hits instead of making matters worse by hurting my father.
After the incident, I was shaken to the core. Despite Nathaniel being the one injured, he had been the one to comfort me. I was horrified to see my father lash out like that at the man I loved–Dad had never done anything like that in my life–but Nathaniel calmed and soothed my frayed nerves, reminding me that he trusted my father. That it must have hurt my father profoundly to see us together, and that Nathaniel had known something like this could happen but wanted to face my father anyway. It was his duty, Nathaniel said, not just to my father but to me; he saw no other honorable way to admit to our relationship and wanted to look my father in the eye to tell him that he loved me.
Devastated by the rift with my dad, I went through the motions at work, but I had trouble staying focused when my heart was so heavy. Still, it was my job to show people kindness, so I soldiered on, grateful for Nathaniel’s unwavering love, and the support of my sisters.
I tried again and again to text my mother, but she ignored my messages. My father’s phone went straight to voicemail.
Tonight, Melinda was joining Larissa and me at our place for dinner. Both of them had been working on our parents, trying to talk some sense into them, and I was eager to hear if either of them had made any progress. It was all I could do to hope my father might feel some sense of remorse toward his friend and understanding toward his daughter.
When Melinda walked through the door, she was holding two big bags of takeout from our favorite Italian restaurant in the Gaslamp. Between bites of pasta and garlic bread, we danced around the subject of my parents, until Larissa lost her patience and asked point blank if Melinda had talked to our dad.
“OK,” she said to Melinda, getting down to brass tacks, “let’s hear it. I know you saw Mom and Dad in person today when you went by the house. I certainly haven’t been making much headway, but you’re more diplomatic than me. Was there any progress, even just a little?”
Melinda sighed sadly, twirling her noodles onto a fork. “They’re both still processing everything. It’s hard for them to digest. But I think they just need more time.”
“Time,” I huffed, looking down at my belly, “is in short supply. This baby is coming whether they like it or not.”
Larissa tore another piece of garlic bread off the loaf. “When I was on the phone with Mom last night, all she did was complain that she was too young to become a grandmother,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And she kept going on and on about Nathaniel, about how she can’t believe the baby ishis,of all people. It was super weird.”
“She hardly even knows him,” I pointed out. “He told me they’ve never been anything more than cordial. Nathaniel is Dad’s friend, not hers.”
“I don’t know,” Melinda mused. “She used to speak so highly of him, but now she talks about him like he’s betrayed her personally. Like” –she stifled a chuckle–“he’s dog shit on her Jimmy Choos.” Melinda’s gaze drifted away, still thinking out loud. “It’s almost like she felt that she and Nathaniel were closer than that. That he was doing thistoher.”
I wrinkled my brow, annoyed by the idea that my mother had been focusing on Nathaniel instead of her own daughter. I was pregnant, after all. Shouldn’t she be more interested in my health, my well-being? It hurt me to think of how self-centered she could be. Sometimes I just didn’t understand her.
“Anyway, enough about Mom and Dad for now,” Larissa said, topping off her wine, then Melinda’s. “It’ll be OK, sis. Don’t worry yourself more than you already have. They’ll come around eventually. Like Melinda said, they just need some time to take it all in.”
“Yeah,” Melinda agreed, “let’s talk about something else. You need a break from this subject sometimes. What about wedding plans? Have you started brainstorming? Do you want me to book a spa day for you? I can make a Pinterest board–”
“It’s too much,” I blurted out. “I’m overwhelmed.” I had been holding it in all night.
“What do you mean?” Larissa asked through a mouthful of bread.
Melinda tilted her head in concern. “Wait. What? I thought you two wanted to get married?”
“We do. Or at least I did. I don’t know…” It was all so overwhelming. My thoughts were a mess; I couldn’t find a way to explain how I was feeling.
“Wasn’t getting married your idea?” Larissa shook her head, surprised.
“Is it too much before the baby comes?” Melinda’s brows furrowed. She was always trying to problem-solve. “Why don’t you do it afterwards? When you’ve adjusted to life with an infant and gotten the hang of it? The planning will be easier, too. Less stress, no pressure–”
I lowered my eyes and stared at my lap, twisting and untwisting my hands. “I want to make Mom and Dad feel proud of their daughter. Not ashamed that she’s having a baby before getting married.”
“Hey, hey,” Melinda soothed. “Everyone has their own timing in life. You don’t have to do things just because other people expect it. Who cares about old traditions? Your life is your own, Amelia.”
“But I had always dreamed of being a bride one day,” I admitted. My sisters knew, of course. They had seen the pictures of glamorous brides I would cut out of magazines and tape up on my wall growing up. “I used to have visions of wearing a beautiful white dress and having my first dance with my husband, looking elegant and grown-up. It was picture perfect in my mind. “By the time we hold the wedding, I’ll barely be able to fit in a dress!”
