It was both arousing and unnerving, like a dangerous dance. She stirred feelings within me that I'd never known before.
I swiftly changed tack, wishing to bring the evening to a close before I did something rash. Women never make me feel out of control, but this one does.
I stand at the end of her table, and she peeps up. Surprise flits across her face, then she drops her gaze to her coffee cup. “Hi,” she mumbles, not looking at me. Her eyes bloodshot. She’s been crying.
“Hi, are you all right?” I ask. The sight of her upset is an unwelcome one. Part of me immediately wants to make it better, whatever it is.
“Yes, I’m fine. This time of year is always difficult. You realize who you miss most,” she replies, distracted. She stands, then leans across the table and lifts a pile of bags from the seat opposite her. “Do you want to sit down?”
“Thanks.” I place the tray on the table and slide into the now clear seat. “Are you finished shopping for the day?”
She nods.
“Are you buying for a whole school?”
She giggles, and a sad smile plays on her lips. “My sister had four children. Well, only one biological one, but there’s another three stepchildren. We treat them all the same, so that means mountains of presents and a high credit card balance.”
“And I thought I had it hard having to buy for my ninety-eight-year-old aunt, who inconsiderately has her birthday on Christmas Eve. Buying a joint present for both days isn’t an option either.”
I scoop a forkful of rice from the cardboard box and pop it into my mouth. It’s barely warm and tastes like pure salt. Typical, even the lunch is joyless today.
Amy gives me a curious look.
“What?”
“After our last meeting, I’m wondering why on earth you’re sitting across the table from me. It didn’t exactly end on a positive note,” she says.
I shrug, trying to feign confidence. This woman is so straight talking, she takes my breath away.
“If my memory serves me right, I called you a fucking asshole.”
“Did you?” I reply, surprised. “I don’t remember that.”
“Definitely, but you may not have heard me because I was storming out of the restaurant at the time.” She gives me a shy smile. “Yes, that was one of the names I called you, anyway.”
“I deserved it,” I admit. “I’m sorry, Amy. My attitude was uncalled for.”
Shocked by my apology, she blinks, her eyes wide.
“It had been a lovely evening until I ruined it by being a jerk.”
Her lips part slightly, a subtle hint of disbelief playing on her face. There’s a flick of warmth in her eyes. It makes me happier than I want to admit. I don’t like needing her approval, but hell, I want it.
“Apology accepted,” she says simply.
We chat, and time slips by without us noticing. She’s easy to talk to, with a witty sense of humor. I hear everything about her nieces and nephews, who run rings around their father. She talks of Christmases past and of her lost sister, recalling memories of happier times for herself as much as for me.
The way she speaks of her sister creates a warmth that fills an emptiness I didn’t know I had. Along with the grief, there’s also love. Pure, unaltered love for a woman gone but not forgotten. And damn it, the idea gives me hope, like a warm feeling spreading through my chest, that I may find that.
“Would you like help picking something for your aunt?” she asks, her eyes wide in question, hopeful even. “We can’t have her complaining about what you’ve bought her. That would be embarrassing for all involved.”
“I’d like that,” I reply, happy for an excuse to spend more time with her. For a woman who used to grate on my nerves, having her in my company is… too easy.
We collect her mountain of bags and head off in search of something suitable. As we walk through the swarm of shoppers, Amy continues to talk.
“I’ve sold the gym,” she tells me, her voice dropping to a whisper. I know this, but I don’t let on. “It was all too much. I needed to draw a line and move on.”
“Sounds like a sensible decision,” I reply. “What are your plans now?”
