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And so I smiled warmly, replying, “anytime, Red. My line’s always open.”
Amelia scrunched her nose. “Oh, now you sound super old! I don’t think you can even call them ‘lines’ anymore because there aren’t cords!” And then she laughed brightly, causing her to nearly lose her balance on the patch of ice we were crossing.
Her green eyes widened in surprise and her mouth opened in a yelp, but I caught her, tugging us both to the other side of the sidewalk which was dusted with snow. “Careful,” I grunted humorously, “I’ve heard of people almost getting severely injured in snow-related accidents before.”
Amelia rolled her eyes and taunted, “I don’t think you were ever this funny while I was living with you. Where’s the grumpy, hot billionaire who was more interested in looking at my ass than doing his stretches?”
As we regained our footing, I smirked. “You think I’m hot?”
“Don’t push your luck,” Amelia shot back, eyeing me with a mock glare.
I raised my hands in surrender and we continued down the road before stopping in front of one of my favorite all-day diners, Mama Claire’s Cakes n’ Steaks.
“What do you think?” I asked Amelia, hoping that she would understand this was my attempt at showing her I was more down-to-earth now.
Her expression lit up and she replied, “this is perfect! Look at you, slumming it like the rest of us.”
I grinned puckishly and opened the door for her, accepting Amelia’s thanks and letting her guide us to the least sticky table. We sat across from each other in cherry-red booths, looking even more out of place than we had at the convention.
After shrugging off my coat, I opened the menu to the dinner section, aptly labeled, “Steaks and Shakes,” while Amelia amused herself with the breakfast section, “Pancakes to Partake.”
“I’ve never been here before,” she said, “but it reminds me of this little dive I used to go to in college that was open until two in the morning for people who had the munchies.”
I hummed and set my menu down, taking a moment to gaze at Amelia while she was preoccupied. Not much had changed since I last saw her—there was less of a spark in her expression though and it saddened me to think that I was responsible for its lack.
She noticed my staring and lowered her menu as well. “I’m gonna have to charge you your old rate if you’re gonna gawk at me all night.”
The corners of my mouth twitched up in a grin and I shrugged. “Can’t a guy admire a pretty girl?”
Raising an eyebrow, Amelia’s smile dropped a little. “Josh, I thought this was just dinner between friends.”
“It is,” I assured her quickly, not wanting to ruin this chance I’d been given. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”
She nodded and refused to meet my eyes when she murmured, “It’s okay. I…I kind of miss our dynamic.”
Even though her words were vague, I knew what she was trying to say and responded in kind, “yeah, it’s been strange not having someone around to call me on my bullshit.”
That lifted her mood considerably and I breathed a sigh of relief, wishing I could erase all the awful things I’d done to her so that there would be nothing in the way. There was something uneasy in her manner and I tried to refrain from asking about it until we ordered and were left with nothing to distract us.
“Is it okay if we talk about what happened now?” I inquired, picking at the paper straw I’d been given.
Amelia nodded. “How did everything go with Laila?”
Nearly choking on a sip of my water, I sputtered before replying with cough, “it went better than most divorces do, I think. She obviously wasn’t happy about losing what she thought she’d won—” I watched as Amelia grimaced at those memories of Laila’s bitchiness toward her. “And we had several tense conversations which weren’t pleasant.”
I didn’t elucidate further, wanting to spare Amelia from knowing all the horrible names Laila had called her when she accused me of leaving her to go, “fuck someone that was half my age.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” she’d seethed, “I’d think you were already sleeping with her!” Laila had sneered then, “I bet she really left because she finally saw what a washed-up lover you are. I mean, it’s not like she fought me to stay here or anything.”
That had stung but I’d kept my composure, insisting that our divorce had nothing to do with Amelia and everything to do with making both of us happy. “Weren’t you the one who said you wanted freedom?” I had asked tersely. “If I remember correctly, I told you I was perfectly content remaining married for the convenience of it—I only want to finalize this now because I know that can’t work. We just aren’t those kinds of people, Lai…we’re too independent.”
Eventually, after scattering several tear-stained tissues around, Laila had agreed that this was for the best, even though she didn’t like it, and began packing up her things. Like Amelia, she’d been gone by the time I’d woken up the next morning, leaving only a note on the fridge explaining that she was going to stay with someone in Paris in case I needed to reach her.
As I recounted our separation with euphemistic prowess to shield Amelia’s feelings, she chimed in every so often with a hum or a nod. It seemed that she was keeping her reactions neutral on purpose and I could only assume it was her own way of saving face. Or at least an attempt at keeping our meeting purely amicable.
“Do you really feel happier?” she asked at the end, taking a sip from the chocolate shake she’d ordered.
I met Amelia’s curious gaze. “Yes.”
