Chapter Eighteen

The pipes quieted, signaling the end of Amari’s shower. Thalia picked up her phone and placed it on “do not disturb.” Her body ached pleasantly from their quick fuck in the bathroom. A glow settled over her as she imagined Amari emerging from the bathroom naked, ready, and willing.

She closed her eyes as she mapped out how she would worship every inch of her body. Her mouth watered in anticipation of indulging herself in a long slow session of feasting on Amari’s thick clit, savoring the sweet-salt honey taste on her tongue. Her body bloomed with anticipation, and her thighs grew slick. Thalia opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the bathroom door.

The candles flickered and fluttered as the minutes dragged on. Thalia worried her thumbnail with her teeth. No sounds came from the bathroom, the silence as loud as a shout.

A chill settled over her as she waited. She shivered. Thalia set her teeth on her lip to stop it from quivering and pulled the sheet over her breasts. Her fingers trembled as she tapped the phone screen to check the time. Ten minutes. Thalia placed the phone back on the table. She closed her eyes, willing herself to be patient.

She startled when the bathroom opened. Amari stood in the doorway, her face barely visible in the candlelight. Fully clothed, her hands stuffed into her pants pockets.

Thalia’s cheeks heated, embarrassment clawed at her, and she drew the sheets tighter around her body.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” Amari pulled her hands from her pockets and took a half step toward the bed. The faint glint of her ring, absent prior to this, caught Thalia’s eyes.

Thalia blinked back the prick of tears and held tight to her dignity. She sat up, careful to keep the sheet over her breasts. “At least you didn’t climb out the bathroom window. What the hell, Amari? Did I imagine you agreeing to having sex with me? What was that in the bathroom? A quick fuck so I’d quit pestering you? A mercy fuck? One for the road?” Her hands ached where she clutched the sheets and her throat ached as she stifled her shouts.

Amari opened her mouth as if to speak and then closed it and looked away from Thalia as she mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Thalia held up her hand palm out and spoke over Amari, unwilling to surrender any more of her time and dignity. “Forget about it. Forget all of it.” She swept her hand through her damp curls. “I pushed. You weren’t ready. I’m sorry.”

Amari turned away from Thalia and then turned back. “No. You have nothing to apologize for. I thought I was ready for—this—you. I’m not. I… You deserve someone not so broken.”

Thalia inhaled deeply and stared at the pain etched on Amari’s handsome face, stared into her eyes searching for the bold woman who had upended her life, given her hope of a relationship that would be all the things she had been searching for, to find only an abyss of fear reflected in Amari’s eyes.

All the words she had been prepared to scream dried up in her mouth. She lowered her chin to her chest. “Fear makes us do unimaginable things. I stayed with a toxic asshole for three years out of fear of being alone.” Thalia lifted her chin toward Amari and held her gaze. “If you’re not ready for a relationship, you’re not ready. I get it.” She forced a half smile. “But I can’t do this without at least the chance of it being more. I really like you, Amari. I connect with you more than anyone I’ve ever met. I can’t pretend I don’t want more.”

Amari’s brows drew down. “I can’t. I can’t go there. You deserve more.”

“I deserve someone who leaves me some agency in the discussion. Don’t pretend this is about me. This is about you. You’re frightened. Afraid of feeling anything. You’re scared as fuck I’ll start to really mean something to you. Hell, you might even fall in love with me. You’re afraid of what that might mean in your well-ordered world with its mile-high walls. Don’t act like your intentions are to protect me when they are really to protect you. At least have the decency to not lie to me. Or yourself.”

Amari scowled at Thalia. “Are you finished? Any more amateur psychoanalysis you want to lob my way? Tell me how fucked up I am?”

“Fuck you, Amari. Fuck you and your arrogance. You think you know me? I’m just a slut plumber, right? I couldn’t possibly know anything more than how to fix leaks and suck clit, right? You’re a coward.”

Amari flinched. “I’ll show myself out.”

Thalia turned her head, unwilling to watch Amari as she retreated from her bedroom. She pressed her lips together to shut off all the other things she wanted to say, unwilling to beg for what Amari was so clearly unwilling to give.

No sense in arguing with a woman who was already gone. Thalia held tightly to the sheet and made herself stay in her bed as she listened to the rustle of Amari collecting her suit coat from the living room. The thunk of Thalia’s front door closing behind Amari echoed down the hall.

“Fuck me.” Her words bounced off the walls of her bedroom as she slammed her fists on the mattress. Thalia switched the bedside lamp on before she shoved the sheets off her body. She snatched her phone off the bedside table.

Her fingers trembled as she scrolled to Amari’s number. Two swipes later and she had deleted Amari’s contact information, obliterating any chance for Thalia to give in to her feelings of rejection, of debasing herself further by begging Amari to not give up on their fledgling relationship.

Thalia held tight to her newly learned skills of self-preservation. She supposed she should thank Shelly for teaching her the hard lesson of why you shouldn’t chase after women who were already gone. Thalia would never be that pitiful again, nor would she, as much as she wanted to, ever call Amari again. It was over. Thalia was over it—at least that was the lie she told herself as she turned her phone off and placed it back on the side table.

A sharp pain bloomed in her chest. Thalia gritted her teeth as cloying loneliness flowed over her and twisted around her heart, a thorny vine of sadness. Amari’s fear and pain had been palpable, a solid wall between them.

Her face burned as she imagined how desperate she must have appeared as she waited for Amari. She covered her face with her hands and groaned softly. At least she had not been lying there playing with her clit, legs spread. And at least Amari had the decency to not fake her feelings to get laid.

Thalia left the bed, unwilling to wallow anymore. Her gaze landed on the framed photo of herself standing on the roof of the Duomo in Milan with her arm around a very sweet, sexy woman she had met while traveling. It had been her treat to herself, and her first solo trip after Shelly left. Hard proof that she didn’t need anyone in her life to succeed. Or be happy. The sting of Amari’s rejection lessened, replaced by resignation.

At least she left before Thalia could declare her feelings. They had skipped the awkward dance of the morning after. It was better this way. Truth hurt. And no matter what, Amari had been truthful. Unlike Shelly. Thalia firmed her jaw and straightened her shoulders. She lifted the silver candle snuffer from its rack and used the dainty bell to snuff out the candles on the dresser. The faint smell of melted beeswax surrounded her.

After replacing the tool in its rack, Thalia put her robe on, knotting the belt firmly. She kicked the lid of her toy box closed before she placed it back in her closet and shut the door.

The floorboards were cold on her bare feet as she strode to the front door. She leaned her shoulder against its smooth surface as she turned the knob to set the deadbolt. The chain rattled into place as she latched it into the slide.

The glow of the streetlight shone in the living room. Thalia crossed the room in two steps. She gathered up the debris from their meal and tossed it into the carry-out bag. After collecting their water glasses, she carried it all to the kitchen.

Moonlight reflected off the linoleum and lit the shadows of the kitchen. The sound of crickets echoed through the open window. Thalia disposed of the trash and recycled the bottle before she placed their glasses in the dishwasher.

She leaned against the counter and stared out of the window into her backyard. A stiff breeze rustled the leaves over the grass and spun the blades of the decorative windmill in her garden. The wind shifted, became stronger. A smatter of rain burst over the yard. Raindrops splattered the window and the screen. The curtain blew in and flapped against the window frame. A flash of lighting lit the yard and thunder crashed, rattling the windowpanes.

Thalia closed the window and latched it. The rain came down in sheets. Unbidden worry about Amari bubbled up. Her home was only fifteen minutes from Thalia’s house. If she had gone straight there, she would have been home before the storm. Had she made it home? Was she safe? Why the hell had she even asked Thalia out if she was going to bolt? And why for the love of all things good had Thalia said yes?

Thalia glanced at the clock on the stove. Nine thirty on a Friday night. Thalia swiped at the stray tears on her face, opened the refrigerator, snatched a bottle of beer off the shelf, and left the kitchen. In the living room, she picked up her copy of Roberta Clarke’s book before she padded back to her bedroom.

★

Amari took another bite of the blueberry coffee cake. The tart sweet berries burst over her tongue.

“You have a good time last night?” Cora served herself a slice of coffee cake.

Amari pushed a bite of cake around with her fork as she finished chewing and avoided her mother’s eyes. “Yes.”

“Really?” Cora filled her cup from the French press on the table. “You were home early.”

“I was tired,” Amari lied.

“Uh-huh.” Cora ate a bite of her coffee cake before she spoke again. “You texted me, told me you had run into Thalia, were going to dinner, and not to worry, that you’d be late getting home. And then you’re home before ten.” She leaned back in her chair. “So, what happened?”

“Nothing.” Amari lifted her gaze to her mother’s face. “Not a thing, and nothing is going to happen.”

Cora held Amari’s gaze. “But why? Because she doesn’t want it to, or because you don’t want it to?”

Amari looked away from her mother and shifted her chair away from the table. “It’s not right, Mom.”

“What are you talking about? She’s the first woman you’ve asked out in ages. You’ve had a light in your eyes I haven’t seen in years, and suddenly dating her is not right? Did you find out something about her that put you off?”

“She’s perfect, Mom. Absolutely perfect. But not for me.” Amari knotted her hands together in her lap.

“Amari Marie, that is a lie. And you should know better than to lie to me. If you don’t want to tell me why you changed your mind about Thalia, that’s fine. Just say it. But don’t lie to me. You’ve never been a good liar. Except to yourself.”

“Stop pushing me,” Amari shouted. She shoved her plate aside and it bumped into her coffee cup. Coffee sloshed over the side and her half-eaten coffee cake slid off the dish and onto the table. “Let it go, Mom.”

Cora stood. Back rigid, she carried her cup and plate to the sink. With efficient movements she emptied her cup and rinsed it out. She scraped her plate and placed it and her fork into the dishwasher before she walked out of the kitchen.

Her footsteps were hollow on the wooden planks of the hallway. Amari mopped up her mess, using her napkin to sweep the soggy crumbs of her breakfast onto the plate. She dumped the rest of her coffee, now gone cold, down the sink.

As she was wiping the table clean with the dishcloth, the low hum of her mother speaking with Brianna ended with the sound of the front door opening and closing. Amari rinsed the dishcloth out and then washed her hands. As she dried them, she stared unseeing out of the kitchen window, eyelids gritty from her night of restless sleep.

Amari crossed the room and collapsed on to the wooden seat of the kitchen chair. She rested her elbows on her knees and covered her face with her hands. First Thalia, and now her mom. She was on a roll. How had she managed to turn a nice Saturday morning breakfast into a disaster?

“Mama?” Brianna touched Amari’s shoulder. “You okay? Grammy’s really mad at you.”

Amari sat up and looked at Brianna. “I know.”

“Hug?” Brianna inclined her head toward Amari.

“Hug.”

They touched heads. Amari closed her eyes and let Brianna’s love wash over her, reminding her that no matter how bad she screwed up her daughter loved her.