What could possibly be on the agenda now? The thought of another social obligation makes my stomach churn.
I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, wondering if I should have opted for a more elaborate hairstyle. But then again, why bother? It’s not as if I’m trying to impress anyone.
Liar.
The guys came to the garden party yesterday, and they will probably be there for whatever is happening tonight. James knocked on my door maybe an hour ago, telling me I should get ready for a casual gathering, but I can only guess what that entails in my family’s book.
Puzzling over the possibilities, I’m startled by the vibration of my phone on the vanity. Morgan’s name flashes across the screen, and I feel a mix of relief and anxiety as I answer the call.
“Hey, how are my fish doing?” The words tumble out before I can stop them.
Morgan’s laughter fills the line. “The fish are great, Amelia. And I’m fine, too, thank you very much.”
I cringe inwardly, heat rising to my cheeks. “Sorry, I’m so awkward. I… I should’ve asked about you first,” I stammer, mentally kicking myself.
I’ve always been rubbish at phone calls, but this is a new low even for me.
“Don’t worry about it,” Morgan reassures me. “Grandpa’s here too.”
“Hi,” I call out, hearing his warm “Hello, dear” in response.
Then Morgan’s voice turns serious. “We wanted to ask how things are going and when you’re all coming home.”
I pause because what am I even going to say to this?
“Amelia?”
“I-I’m not sure,” I admit.
I might not be able to come back at all.
The thought sends a pang through my chest.
Mr. Donovan’s voice comes through. “Are the boys not doing well with apologizing?” he asks, gentle but probing.
“They are,” I say, thinking about how Grey played piano for two hours yesterday so I wouldn’t have to, then simply kissed my cheek before leaving. “I’m sorry,” I add, the guilt creeping in.
“Them apologizing doesn’t burden you with an obligation. A genuine apology comes with understanding and the patience and grace to wait for acceptance with compassion,” Mr. Donovan reassures me.
His words hit me hard, and I feel understood in a way that makes my chest tighten. Tears well up in my eyes as I realize how overwhelmed I am, how much I’ve been holding back. I blink rapidly, trying to keep them at bay.
“Thank you,” I rasp out.
“What is it, Amelia? You know you can tell us anything,” Morgan prompts, her concern palpable even through the phone.
I need to talk to someone about it.
Taking a deep breath, I pour out everything, the words rushing out like water after a dam breaking. I tell them about my father wanting August to take over the firm and how it could ruin his marriage and, ultimately, his life.
My voice cracks as I speak, emotions threatening to overwhelm me. “It’s all because of me,” I confess, the guilt I’ve been carrying spilling out. “I left, and now I have to somehow fix this mess. If August doesn’t agree to cut ties with our parents and come to the States with me, the only solution I see is to marry this guy my mother wants me to marry and somehow convince my father to let him take over the firm instead.”
I finish speaking and realize I’m trembling, my free hand clutching some strands of my hair.
My mind spins with doubt when the silence on the other end of the line becomes deafening, and I wonder if I’ve said too much, if I’ve finally managed to push them away.
But then, Morgan’s voice shatters the silence, “What the fuck, Amelia? That isnotgoing to happen, and I’ll come over and get you out of there myself if you even think about doing that. My brother did not go through all of this for you to marry someone you don’t even want to marry.”
She’s right. Either I’m ruining August’s life, or I hurt the guys.
