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Chapter Twenty
Amelia
Aspartofmyemployee training at Soul & Strength, they insisted that I attend a convention that was coming to town that weekend.
Fake holly garlands were strung around my new boss’s office, purple and gold ornaments hanging from them in preparation for the holidays which were just a few weeks away. I gazed at the colorful display while Dr. Nichols searched for a brochure on the event, snapping my gaze back to her when she found it with a cry of triumph.
“Aha! Here it is,” she said, holding the plastic tri-fold out to me, “this convention comes around bi-annually and it’s our policy here to have all new hires—obviously, it’s just you this time around—attend it when they can so that we’re all aware of updated techniques, equipment, et cetera.”
“Of course,” I replied, turning the pamphlet over in my hands absentmindedly. “Do you expect a report or notes on those subjects afterward?”
“No, we trust that you’ll share anything exciting that you see,” Dr. Nichols answered with a smile. “This is also a great opportunity to network and meet new people after moving here.”
I hummed in agreement, suddenly feeling a little homesick and anxious about attending the convention by myself. “You’ve already been signed up,” she continued, “so all you need to do is show up, Ms. Roberts!”
“I’ll be there,” I assured, even though I didn’t really have a choice. “Thanks, Dr. Nichols.”
“Anytime!” she called out as I left her office and walked back to my own, my fingers beginning to nervously bend the edges of the brochure she’d given me.
Once in the privacy of my own room, behind a closed door with my name frosted on the glass—Amelia Roberts, PT—I let out a shaky breath. Normally, I would have no problem going to anything on my own, so why was this any different?
The longer I sat, trying to calm my nerves, the more convinced I became that it was because I had a sinking suspicion that something would happen there, something important. Laughing to myself at the notion that I’d suddenly become a fortune teller, I tried to rationalize the pit in my stomach.
Maybe I was right and a significant moment would happen there, like discovering the next big step in physical therapy.Or maybe, I was just being paranoid about going somewhere I’d never been in a new place by myself. My heart began to slow down then and I closed my eyes for respite, glad that I hadn’t completely freaked out about this otherwise normal situation.
In the back of my mind, though, that premonition was still present and would be until I found exactly what, or who, was waiting for me at the convention.
The day of the convention, I dressed smartly, ditching my usual athletic wear for a long-sleeved black dress that I hoped would help me fit in with all the other urbanites. After fixing my copper-red hair in the mirror one last time, I tried to think of what Josh would say right now, thinking it would give me a boost of confidence.
If he saw me standing here…I pictured Josh smiling at my bare legs, which were only protected by heeled boots and the knee-length dress I wore. “You’re gonna freeze to death, Red,” he’d jest, offering a hand to spin me with and whistling lowly when I did, “but you’ll look gorgeous nonetheless.”
I couldn’t help the way my daydream turned sinful as I imagined his lips caressing the bare skin of my legs before his head dipped under my skirt. “Don’t worry,” Josh would whisper against my inner thighs, “I’ll warm you up right now before you go.”
And true to his word, he’d heat the blood rushing through my veins with delicious pleasure before standing again and licking my arousal off his fingers—“There, all better.”
Then, he would tug me close to him and press the palm of my hand against the bulge in his pants, promising, “I’ll be here when you get back, Amelia, and then we can spend the rest of the night keeping each other warm.”
I was drawn out of my fantasies by a slight wobble in my knees that threatened to take me to the floor and I gazed at my reflection which was far pinker than it had been moments ago. Shaking my head, I regathered myself, certain that I would be coming home to an empty house and nothing more.
The chilly air nipped at my exposed legs as I raced from my car to the convention center, keeping both hands shoved against my sides beneath my jacket. Gray clouds hung above, ensuring snow, and I began to dread driving home tonight on the icy roads. If I was lucky, I’d be able to leave early and beat the traffic that would no doubt be caused by people sliding into each other on accident.
Yes, that was my compromise with myself—I would stay for a couple hours and see what there was to see, make sure that the people at the booth from Soul & Strength knew I was there, and then quietly slip out in between guest speakers. I’d get home unscathed and enjoy whatever movie was on while pretending that there weren’t better ways to spend a Friday night.
Pushing the heavy doors open, I was met by a hundred or more people, some removing their coats at the entry and others already lining up to speak to people at various clinics’ stands. To my left was a grand staircase that lead to a balcony where you could preside over the crowds, and to my right was a hallway that wound through the massive building to the auditorium.
The place itself was decorated like the lobby of a mid-range hotel and I had to keep myself from rolling my eyes—of course I was wrong to assume that this was a “fancy” event. To my chagrin, when I started noticing what everyone else was wearing—mostly jeans and sweaters—I found myself woefully overdressed.
Meekly, I made my way over to the check-in desk and gave them my name. At least the sticky paper nametag they gave me made my outfit look slightly more casual so that I wouldn’t be getting sidelong glances all evening.
Once I found a place to stand out of the way, I looked down at the schedule I’d been handed with my nametag and noticed that the first speaker was giving his lecture in fifteen minutes. My heeled boots clacked on the floors as I made my way to the auditorium, finding a place to sit near the back so that I could avoid conversing with strangers.
As I watched other patrons filter in, some in pairs or groups, I found myself wishing that I’d invited Natalie to come with me. At least then I would have had someone to talk to and wouldn’t be so focused on how I stuck out like a sore thumb; I kept thinking people would see me as some doctor’s spoiled daughter who had come to schlub with the masses so that she could see what it was like to have a real job.
For the next hour and a half, I listened intently as the man on the stage spoke about the importance of advanced computer software in offices which would make it easier for us to track our patient’s progress. Although his voice droned and had very little inflection, his lecture gave me at least one worthwhile reason to be there which lifted my spirits somewhat.
Afterward, I drifted back out into the sea of booths, wandering around with my hands folded beneath my coat as I inspected instruments and unique methods of healing. Once or twice I felt someone’s eyes on me, but the second I looked around, that sensation vanished, leaving me to shrug off my self-consciousness.
And then, as fate would have it, I bumped into a broad frame in between vendors, ready to apologize when I glanced up and saw who it was—
