“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m mostly considering whether or not to kill him,” I say. Then I tune her out and focus on the paperwork. After a few moments, she shut the television off and goes to her room, slamming the door. So much for not being a child, I think.
I work throughout the afternoon, and only when my stomach grumbles do I realize I haven’t eaten anything. My stomach doesn’t feel great. It feels as though it’s tied in a knot, but I do need to eat.
I rummage through the fridge and bring out the ingredients for a chicken pasta salad. I try not to think about Amelia and Andres while I’m cooking. I try to focus on the food, but intrusive thoughts push through. Were they lovers as well? Are they in love now? Have they had sex? Does she want to leave me for him?
It makes the knot in my stomach tighten, and I take a deep breath to calm myself down. Once the salad is done, I whistle loudly. “Amelia, dinners ready.”
I wait, and then I hear her door open. I dish up two bowls of the salad and bring it to the table, having moved my paperwork out the way.
Amelia sits down and pulls the bowl toward her. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
I don’t respond, I sit, and I start to eat. It’s an awkward silence that I don’t like, and it gnaws at me.
“I want to get some information,” I finally say to her. “Then I will consider your proposal, but if you want me to seriously consider listening to this guy, you cannot see him for the next two days.”
Amelia looks up at me. “That’s fine. Just see him because I believe what he’s saying,” she says. “And I think this is how we’re going to get our lives back.”
Chapter 27 - Amelia
As angry as I am with Frankie for his stubbornness and possessiveness, I can’t help but feel a bit speechless. There’s a sense of understanding that comes to me.
He had wanted to protect me from his family, from the life that they lived.
This was such a Frankie thing to do, to make a decision for me without actually speaking to me. Only he would think he and he alone could make the best possible decision for me. For anyone, in fact.
After the brief conversation over dinner, I feel awkward. I have a burning desire inside of me.
He chose to protect me, but that’s no longer an option. I’m part of the family now, I’m in this world, and he needs to accept it.
He takes the dishes to the sink to begin washing up, and I go over to help—a peace offering. I dry the dishes while he washes them.
I can’t stop replaying the notion in my head that he didn’t leave me because he didn’t love me. He didn’t break my heart because he didn’t care. He left me because he loved me and wanted to keep me safe. He sacrificed so he wouldn’t lose me to something worse.
I set the bowl down and say softly, “Frankie.”
He glances at me. “What?” he says gruffly.
“Do you honestly care about me?” I ask softly, looking at him. He pauses, washes the cutlery, and shakes his head. “I told you how I feel about you, Amelia. You’ve made it clear how you feel about me.”
“I don’t want you to love me like I’m a possession, Frankie,” I continue, my voice steady but quiet. “I want you to love me for who I am.”
“You think I don’t?” Frankie rounds on me, but it’s not anger I see in his eyes. It’s hurt. “I love everything about you. The way you pick at your nails when you’re nervous or fling your curls over your shoulder when you’re trying to make a point. I love the bounce you have in your walk when there’s music playing, and I love how fiery and rebellious you can be. I hate that you challenge me, but dammit, Amelia, I love it about you. You constantly confuse the fuck out of me because I don’t know what you want, but I’ve told you before, and I’m telling you again now that I would have given you the world.”
I look up at him wide-eyed. I believe him. I believe he’s being sincere, and I feel my heart bursting.
“But” he continues, “I told you in the hotel, either you come to me, and you’re mine, or you walk away, and we don’t talk about this again. So why are we talking about this again if you don’t feel the same way? Why are you trying to torture me?”
I can feel tears prickling my eyes. “I don’t want to torture you, Frankie. I just don’t want another broken heart. I loved you from the first time we were together. I loved everything about you. I didn’t care about your family or what you did. It was you I loved. I still love you.”
His eyes widen, but I don’t let him speak. “But you broke me, Frankie. I thought you left me because I wasn’t good enough, and I settled for so much less every time after that. I did that because I couldn’t have what I knew belonged with me. I hate that you’re annoying and so uptight and want to control my every move, but when I’m not with you, I feel like my chest is closed, and I’m gasping for air like a fish out of water.”
I start to cry and hold my hand up. “I didn’t go to you in the hotel because I know, if it comes to that again, if you walk away from me, I will die, Frankie. I cannot survive you leaving me again.”
Frankie doesn’t even dry his hands as he pulls me to him, my head on his chest, and he holds me. We stand there in silence, my tiny body shivering against his as I cry. I can feel he’s shaking, too, as he strokes my hair softly.
“I never meant to hurt you, Amelia. I meant to protect you,” he says softly. He pulls away from me, and instantly, I miss his warmth. “And I swear I will never do anything, ever, to hurt you again.”
I wipe my eyes and nod. “Can we…can we just take this slow?” I ask. “Try and be together again?”