Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (31 page)

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Amy must have gotten sand in her eyes. They were tearing up.

“Why can’t everyone just drop this? You and Mom, and Samantha’s even on my butt,” Amy pleaded. Emily reached out and pulled her sister into her arms. “I’ll just meet someone else. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone—”

“Anyone but all of us,” Emily interrupted. “We all love you, you weirdo. We all want you to be happy.”

Amy tried to move away from her, and Emily held her fast. Those workouts with Brandon must have been paying off. She stuck her fist in her mouth, and tried to think of anything that would stop the hot tears from streaking down her cheeks.

“Fight all you want,” Emily said into her ear. “I’m not letting go of you.”

“The kids are starting to stare.”

“Who cares?” She patted Amy’s back. “I’ve cried on your shoulder more than once.”

“It’s been six months,” Amy said. “And you’ve been disgustingly happy ever since then.”

She heard Emily laugh a little. “The next time I have a crying jag, I’ll give you a call.”

As usual Emily had seen past whatever it was Amy was trying to cover up. Emily gave her one last squeeze, dropped her arms, and started walking again. Amy trotted after her, while attempting to control her emotions. They weren’t cooperating.

Matt’s absence was a physical ache. Even more, Amy kept remembering the look on his face when she hit the gas and drove away from him. Losing him was the worst pain she’d ever experienced, but she didn’t know how to fix it. She was like a wild animal caught in a trap. She would do anything to keep other people from finding out about the pain and loneliness inside of her, and she’d do anything to get away from them while she did it.

The only time she felt comforted was when Matt was near. He knew pain and grief well. He talked with Amy about the things in his life that still hurt: his dad’s abandonment of their family; the fact his mom struggled for so many years alone, and he could do little to help her until he got older; his regret that he couldn’t make it work no matter how hard he tried with his ex-wife; and the fact he worried his failure would impact Samantha. He also knew joy, and he shared his with her.

She wondered why other people fell in love so effortlessly. Maybe they had some kind of special coating on their emotions—heartbreak didn’t hurt as much, or they were able to quickly forget it. Not her. She’d take any financial risk, but a risk with her feelings? Absolutely not.

Emily turned to her. “Let’s get some food.”

“I don’t need to eat.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing since we got here.”

“Are you keeping track?”

“I don’t want to have to carry you.” She turned toward the restaurant beyond the beach. “I heard they have flourless chocolate cake and a full bar.”

Chocolate was still Amy’s Kryptonite. “Let’s go.”

A
MY AND
E
MILY
sat at a hardwood bar. The back wall was floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the ocean view. There were a few people scattered throughout the restaurant enjoying the snacks and libations, but everyone else must have been romping on the beach. Obviously, it was five o’clock somewhere, even if it was still early afternoon in Oregon.

Emily gathered the long skirt of her cotton turquoise sundress around her, cradled her brand-new baby bump, and took another sip of her virgin Cosmopolitan, otherwise known as cranberry juice with some lime. Her pea-sized diamond stud earrings flashed in the recessed lights.

“Brandon makes fun of me when I order one of these.”

“Did you tell him to get over himself?” Amy said.

“That’s what you’re for.”

“Come on. I know you tell him once in a while he’s not God.”

Emily swirled the juice in her martini glass, and let out a sigh.

“I miss him. Even if he can make me completely insane, the house is so quiet without him. Plus, I don’t sleep well when he’s not there.”

“What do you do when you’re out of town for a performance?”

“That’s different. I don’t expect him to be there.” Emily made a moisture ring on her bar napkin. “We talk before we go to sleep. Every night.” She concentrated on lining up the bowls of bar snacks on some invisible marker. Amy loved her sister, but wow, Emily had a thing about organization. “If there was one thing in life I would wish for you, it’s that.”

“Talking to Brandon every night before I go to sleep?” Amy said. Emily stared at her. “Okay. It was a bad joke. I was just trying to lighten the moment.”

Amy had picked at her food for over a week now, but she’d decided in the past thirty seconds she was ravenously hungry. She’d seen all the sweeps-week news reports about bacteria thriving in bar snacks. Maybe she should risk it anyway. She wondered what Emily would do if she messed up her sister’s carefully aligned bowls of peanuts and pretzels on the bar.

The restaurant’s kitchen door was visible from where they sat. She wondered if anyone would mind if she ran in and helped herself to whatever was ready to eat. The bartender and servers must have been on some kind of extended break.

“I never thought it would be like this. I
never
thought I’d be one of those sappy women crying into my drink about how much I miss my husband.” Emily let out another sigh. “See? I’ve been away from him for a grand total of less than eight hours, and I’m already having some kind of meltdown.”

“You can’t wait till I’m experiencing the same sort of misery?” Amy decided to take a risk, and grabbed the bowl of peanuts. Emily took it away from her before she could eat any.

“That stuff’s nasty. Let’s find the server.” Emily swiveled in her bar chair to face Amy, and laid one hand over hers. “This is all about someone who knows everything about me, even the stuff I wish I could hide. My faults. Things I wish I were better at. He loves me anyway, or maybe I should say, despite it all. I know all of his faults, too. It doesn’t matter. I could never imagine this kind of love before it happened to me.” She tapped on the bar with one finger. “That is what I mean, Ame. That’s what I’m talking about. That’s what I think you could have with Matt.”

“Matt doesn’t understand me. He doesn’t even want to try.”

“I think you’re wrong.” Emily took a sip from her glass. “Do you understand where he’s coming from?”

“Oh, let’s see: Arrogant, bullheaded, testosterone poisoned, knuckle-dragging freak? Oh, yeah. I know exactly where he’s coming from—”

Emily interrupted her. “You are just hurt. Whenever I said something critical of him, you were all over me. You stuck up for him with Mom and Dad, too.”

“Mom and Dad don’t like anyone I go out with.” Amy needed something to eat.
Now
. Where the hell was that bartender? She glanced around.

“That’s not true. They really liked Brian.”

“They sure as hell don’t like him now. He’s not even an option.”

“Amy, does it occur to you that the reason you fell in love with Matt was because you finally met a guy you can’t shut out of your life?”

Amy’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t even believe you said that. It’s BS.”

“And it’s not true?” The bartender reappeared, and Emily signaled for another round of drinks.

“You are so paying for this,” Amy said while pointing at her drink. She called out to the bartender, “May I have a menu, please?” She needed some nourishment, and a lot of sleep, before she continued this conversation.

“You haven’t answered my question,” Emily said. “Before Matt you never dated anyone you trusted with your heart, let alone your plans for the future. You never confided in Brian, for instance. You never shared your hopes and dreams with him, either.”

“That is completely untrue,” Amy hissed. She took a healthy swig of her cocktail. “I dated Brian for a year.”

“You
dated
him. You didn’t
love
him. And you were over him a week after he left for New York, weren’t you?” Emily tossed back the last few ounces of her virgin Cosmo. “Brian wasn’t the one. Matt’s the one. Just admit it.”

“Okay, ladies, one more virgin Cosmo, right?” The bartender indicated Amy’s half-empty glass. If Brandon would laugh at Emily’s choice, she knew ordering a second “Sex on the Beach would leave him in hysterics.”

She gave him a nod on the drink refill, and he dropped a menu on the bar in front of Amy. She wondered if Emily would be alarmed if she ordered one of everything.

Emily polished off her drink and slid the glass away. “We’d better eat.”

“Maybe I should get drunk enough to forget that Matt exists,” Amy muttered.

Emily’s voice was tart. “I don’t think there’s enough alcohol in the world for that.”

“Let’s find out.”

Their friend the bartender was back with two freshly made drinks and a basket of what smelled like bread and butter. Amy grabbed a hunk of steaming-hot, fragrant bread out of the basket, and dragged it through the butter. She took a gigantic bite.

It was currently the best thing she’d ever tasted. It was all she could do not to moan when the hot bread and melted butter hit her taste buds. Her eyes might have rolled back in her head a little.

“More bread, please,” she called out to the bartender.

“You’re cut off,” Emily said.

A
MY AND
E
MILY
ate a huge amount of food. Well, Amy ate most of it. The ocean air seemed to revive her appetite. She was full and a little sleepy when two guys approached their table.

They were nodding and smiling at Emily and Amy before, but she tried to ignore them. They parked themselves in the two empty chairs at the sisters’ table. The tall blond sported artfully rumpled hair, board shorts, and a Cannon Beach Surf Shop t-shirt. His dark-haired buddy had a crew cut, camo board shorts, and a black t-shirt that read, “Any way we can speed this up?” They both appeared to be in their late thirties, which was much too old for their current attire. Plus, anyone who wasn’t legally blind could see the gigantic rock on the third finger of Emily’s left hand. The blond must have been giving Stevie Wonder a run for his money.

“So, ladies, how about another drink?”

The blond spoke to both of them, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Emily. Actually, he couldn’t take his eyes off her cleavage. He thrust out a hand. “I’m Justin. This is Matthew.”

Emily gave him a polite smile. “Shouldn’t you both be out on the beach? The waves look great today,” she said.

“We surfed this morning.” Matthew stretched an arm around the back of Amy’s chair. She moved away. “You surf, blondie?”

If there was one thing in life Amy wanted to avoid more than any guy named “Matthew” right then, being called “blondie” was it.

“Nope. I don’t surf.”

“I’ll teach you.”

Amy was fairly sure there were plenty of things he wanted to teach her, seeing as how he continued leaning toward her, and she continued to move away.

“Thanks, but no thanks. We’re here for a little relaxation,” Amy said. She took another sip of her drink.

Matthew wasn’t taking the hint. “Relaxation, huh? I’ve always been a fan. How ’bout you, Justin?”

Justin still couldn’t seem to remove his eyes from Emily’s chest. “It’s good to kick back,” he said.

Emily picked up her drink with her left hand. Amy could have told her that subtle wasn’t going to get rid of these two. Justin flashed Matthew a smile. In other words, he couldn’t tell that Emily was simply being polite; he thought she was interested.

Amy was also allergic to guys spouting seventies cool-dude speak. Matt teased her with it sometimes, but on him it came off as ironic. On these clowns, it was just scary.

“So, mama, why don’t you finish up that drink, and we’ll go find something more fun to do,” Justin said.

The idiot had just asked Emily out. This called for desperate measures. Amy and Emily locked glances, and Amy gave her sister a slight nod.

Amy leaned over the table and gave Justin a conspiratorial smile. “Hey, Justin, when’s the last time you had your eyes checked?”

“Huh?” He tried to look confused. “We’re just trying to spend time with some pretty ladies.”

Amy’s voice dropped to a sensual purr.

“You seem to have gotten off at the wrong bus stop. Let me redirect you,” she said. “My sister is married. To an NFL All-Pro defensive lineman. When he walks through that door and sees you sitting at our table, he’s going to rip your arm off and beat you with the wet end.” She gave him an innocent smile. “You might want to leave before he gets here.”

Shortly after Emily stopped laughing at the sight of two grown men running out the door of the restaurant like something was on fire, Amy and Emily retreated to their hotel room. Amy lowered herself onto a chaise lounge on the balcony overlooking the ocean, dropping a bag of assorted mini chocolate bars and two romance novels onto the small, round table between them.

Amy opened one of the books to the dedication page. Of course, the author wanted to thank her wonderful husband, who brought flowers and candy on Groundhog Day because it meant something to her. How sweet. She heaved a sigh. Another woman with something Amy couldn’t even pretend to have: a successful relationship. Emily had cracked open a book as well. They listened to the sounds of seagulls, crashing surf, and other people’s screaming little kids as they pretended to read.

Emily glanced up from her book. “Do you think they’re still running?”

“Maybe they sustained a groin pull.” Amy reached into the bag for some chocolate. “I can only imagine what would have happened if Brandon really walked in on that whole thing.”

Emily let out a snort, and dropped her book back onto the table. “Speaking of Brandon, I have a message for you from him. He says to quit screwing around and call Matt.”

“Not going to happen.”

“You’re miserable without Matt. He’s miserable without you. How long do you think you can keep this up?” Emily said.

“As long as I have to.”

“That’s not an option. I have two days to fix this.”

“Excuse me? Are we going to talk about your schedule again?” Amy pushed off the chaise lounge, sat up, and glared at her. Her patience was at an all-time low. “Why don’t you remind me again how insignificant I am, how important
you
are, and how I’m just lucky to be sitting here, breathing the same air you do?”