“I met him at a party. I saw him across the room and hoped he might talk to me.”
With her chin resting in her hand, Natalie grinned. “Did he?”
“Sort of. He got pulled away. We both did. Later that night, he helped me out of a tough situation. I’m incredibly grateful to him.”
Though technically the truth, the retelling still tasted like a lie. Amelia’s gratitude came well after simmering hatred. It was a wonder they’d ever come that far and a tragedy they might go no further.
“You seem more than grateful,” Natalie said and twirled noodles around her fork. “Smitten, more like. Are you two together?”
Amelia shook her head. “It ended before it truly began.”
Arms crossed, Natalie eased back to evaluate Amelia. A pillar of sunlight stretched across the floral rug between them.
“I can see it. You and Emory have very similar energy. You’re both old souls. I hope it works out between you two.”
The ache in Amelia’s chest returned. She’d received that samegesture after past breakups. With the best of intentions, it twisted the knife as sad eyes consoled with the same words on repeat: “I’m sorry, Amelia. You’ll find someone else.” Beneath the charitable sympathy was a mountain of pity. Poor Amelia, the lovelorn little fool.
The shop phone trilled behind the counter. Natalie pushed from the floor and pointed at Mirabelle.
“Now, if only we could find you someone. This girl has been single forever.”
Natalie fluttered off to answer the phone. Mirabelle dug into her curry but refused Amelia’s stare. If the tables were turned, Mirabelle would have plenty to say. She liked to spout faux enlightenment in pithy quotes probably scavenged from Instagram. “Live your truth” was one of them. Mirabelle treated her truth like a dirty secret and lived in fear of its discovery.
“My freshman year of college, I was with this guy,” Amelia said. “He was my first serious relationship, first love.”
“That’s sweet,” Mirabelle replied with a half-hearted smile.
“Well, that’s the thing. It wasn’t sweet. He was a lot older than me and more experienced in just about everything. He used that to his advantage and was awful to me. Of course, it never starts that way. It’s like quicksand. You sink a bit each day. By the time you realize the trouble you’re in, you feel powerless to pull yourself out and ashamed to ask for help.”
Amelia glanced at Natalie with the phone pressed to her ear, eagerly nodding as she scribbled on a scrap of paper.
“I withheld a lot from my best friend. I think I was afraid to hear the truth, so I suffered and I sank, and no one really knew.”
Amelia had never relayed the story so succinctly before. She’d only ever vented it in pieces, so no one had the full narrative, only her. Mirabelle didn’t know that, though, so she looked flustered and perhaps even slightly embarrassed on Amelia’s behalf.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said and neatly packaged up her unfinished lunch. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Miri, you know why. I hope Jack is good to you. You deserve a good man.”
Mirabelle’s cheeks flushed almost the same love-bitten red as her lips. With a deep breath, she smoothed down the lace overlay of her skirt.
“Does Emory know about Jack?”
“Not from me.”
“You cannot tell him,” she insisted with requisite fear of her mercurial man, one who’d hang his failures on her. “Jack will lose his shit if you do.”
“My loyalty isn’t to Jack, and I won’t keep secrets from Emory. Why can’t you just tell him? He probably already suspects something.”
“It’s complicated, and Emory wouldn’t understand. Jack knows every facet of me; the ones I hide, the ones I’m certain are hard to love. It’s hard to walk away from someone who sees you so completely.”
Amelia nodded sympathetically but knew damn well men like Jack liked to keep their women broken. The lies he must’ve told to crush a woman as vibrant as Mirabelle.
“My first night here, you told me I wasn’t alone,” Amelia said and reached for Mirabelle’s hand. “Neither are you.”
“You’re a good girl.” Mirabelle closed her eyes that glistened with tears and pulled her hand away. “I’m sorry, Amelia.”
“For what?”
