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"If you shut up now, I'll owe you one," I grumbled before he could continue and dig himself deeper into my predicament.
Wilder made a gesture that was probably meant to show me he had zipped his lips. That would have been reassuring if I didn't know him so well.
When I spent my first evening in Wolf Creek over a decade ago, he was the one who supplied me with just the right amount of drinks. The rest is history.
"So, what's the plan?"
"A spur-of-the-moment move."
"To where?"
"Home."
"She's moving in with you?!" He asked it so loudly and shockingly that I slammed the book in my hand against his chest.
"No." Actually, Amelia didn't have the faintest clue that I wanted to sell her on Wolf Creek as the perfect retreat.
"You've lost your mind." I ignored Wilder's murmuring.
Since Amelia slid into the chair opposite me this evening, it’s felt like all rational thought has left my brain.
The last ten years had taught me that the dating world was a complete nightmare, and in my case, it led to an absurdly comical series of dreadful dates and even more questionable missteps.
For some reason, however, Amelia still seemed like a silver lining on the horizon. A true feat—developing an interest in a woman who would be depicted in a comic surrounded by a huge, dark storm cloud. Why did I think I could chase it away with my sunny disposition?
Oh right. That unshakeable optimism that hadn't let me give up after ten years…
"Just do me a favor—pack up her stuff and get it into the car. I'll handle the rest."
"Sure, I see that." As he turned away, he mumbled something about setting up an appointment with a shrink the next morning to check the state of my sanity.
Looking for Amelia, I went back to the living room, only to find that bags had joined the boxes of books, as well as another small box stacked with dozens of colorful mugs, next to wildly patterned metal tins labeled with various loose teas. Right beside that was a box filled with an assortment of baking utensils. The half-dead plants had also disappeared, along with a few other little things, each leaving a visibly empty space behind.
Amelia herself was in the bathroom, hands braced on the sink and head bowed between her shoulders.
"You don't have to act like this isn't affecting you," I observed.
She lifted her gaze to look at me in the mirror. As she rolled her eyes, she exhaled sharply. "It's not even that."
"Do you do that often? Swear and roll your eyes?" I asked, even before looking to see what she was doing.
"Maybe? I don't know." The expression on her face questioned why that even mattered at the moment.
It really didn't. For some reason, I just couldn't bear the thought of her saying phrases likeOh fuckin front of other people when there was only one good reason to use those words.
And she should only roll her captivating eyes under a very specific impulse. Preferably, when I was the one providing it.
I really needed to start getting myself under control.
"Does it bother you?" Why did it sound so innocent coming from her?
"What if I say yes?"
"Then I'll tell you that you can't expect me to do everything you say or refrain from everything you forbid me to do."
We were still looking at each other in the mirror, and once again, several unspoken words hung in the air, almost driving me mad.
"Yet you have obeyed everything I've told you so far, Amelia." Whenever I said her name, I felt an urgent need to somehow make contact with her. Even if she would only let me graze her little finger…
