Page 13 of I Want to Know What Love Is

But there’s no way I can sleep. Not with Amanda on my mind.

Chapter Six

Amanda

Stabbing the phone with a surge of bloodthirsty relish, I ignore the shake of my hand and pull open my front door as I talk into the phone.

“What the fuck do you want, Gary?”

“Whoa there, Mandy. Let’s not—”

“Not what? Don’t I have a right to be angry? Well fuck you if you—”

“It’s been a year. It’s not healthy to hold a grudge.”

Paul leaps toward me as I step inside. Walking to the couch, I plop down, unloading the bag of Chinese on the coffee table and scratch my best friend behind the ears. My outrage takes a nosedive. I try and work back up to swearing because Gary deserves it, and I can’t let my lack of caring and Paul’s soft fur stand in the way of justice.

But I can’t do it because Gary’s right. I’m not admitting it to him, but it has been too long. And so what if we haven’t seen each other, if he hasn’t called me, texted me, sent a letter or even smoke signals to apologize in all that time? So what if I haven’t had the chance to yell at him, vent the anger and hurt at the one target who deserves it?

It’s a wonder Brook, my kid sister, hasn’t blocked my calls or moved out of town after all the venting I unloaded on her. Paul tries to lick my face and I hold him off. I have limits.

“If you didn’t call to apologize and let me give you a piece of my mind, the piece you more than deserve, then tell me what the—what you called for and get it over with.”

He sighs into the phone. My heart rate returns to normal as Paul leans into me, his head in my lap.

“This isn’t easy for me either. Because you’re right. I’ve been a coward. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to deal with you before the wedding.” He chuckles nervously. “Still don’t, but I’ve been advised it’s necessary.”

I close my eyes because his unrelenting lack of care for me stabs me in the heart all over again. Not because I’m heartbroken or still have feelings, but because I came so close to making the hugest fucking mistake of my life marrying him.

Others—his friends—later told me the reason he called our wedding off. Another woman. Classic cliché. He left his best man with the task of telling me just before I walked down the aisle that he wasn’t showing up. The fucker.

“Out with it,” I say. How bad could it be? I realize I don’t care about him anymore. The fresh knowledge buoys me, shoves aside the residue of anger. My need to punish him for his assholery settles down. Because I suddenly don’t even care enough to tell him off.

“I’m getting married.”

“I already knew that.” And I don’t care. He sighs. It’s a habit I never liked. Now I only roll my eyes.

“And I want to invite you to the wedding.”

Boom.

My gut falls and my nerves sizzle for a split second, my lungs sucking in an extra-large gulp of air, because I’m stunned that he has the balls to say such a ridiculous thing. As I’m collecting my shocked nerves, he says more.

“Believe me, it’s not my idea. But everyone in my family and most notably, my fiancée’s father, insists that you should be there, that it’s the way to make amends, to be friends and start off my marriage with a clean slate. It makes no sense to me either, but—”

“Shut up, Gary.” My voice is tired. He’s right, it makes no sense. “I’m not going to your wedding. Consider your duty done. You invited me. But no way in hell am I going. It would be a shameful waste of my time and your money.” Silence. For several beats. I figure this is the end of the call, the end of Gary, but before I say goodbye, he clears his throat.

“You don’t understand. I can’t get married unless you attend the wedding.”

What the fuck? I laugh. What else can I do?

“You can’t be serious. Goodbye—”

“Don’t hang up, Mandy. I’m serious as fuck. I need you to be at the wedding, to show that there’s no ill will between us, that we’re on good terms now.”

“What’s wrong with being on no terms?” I ask reasonably. I should be upset or jumping for joy or something, but strangely, all I feel is mild curiosity at the panic in his voice. There must be more to this story than he’s telling. But how much worse can it get than leaving me at the altar to go off with someone else, never contacting me, never fucking apologizing for a year? He says nothing, then I hear a rattled breath. Not a sigh. My nerves go wiggly and I stand. Because I know I’m about to find out how much worse it can get.

“My fiancée’s father is the president of the bank where I work. She questioned me about my broken engagement when she heard rumors and found out I… how it ended.”