Page 83 of Conception
“Oh my gosh, Amelia. I love you, but you’re an idiot.”
I’m unsure of how to respond. Because, well, she’s right.
“You may not want to admit it to yourself, but I know you better than anyone. It’s obvious you’re head-over-heels in love with that man. Why would you just let him go?”
“The plan was to end this after the summer. I wasn’t going to beg him to stay just for him to turn me down.”
“You don’t know that’s what would have happened.”
“And you don’t know that he would’ve stayed. Or wanted to continue anything beyond the summer.”
“Now, we’ll never know.”
I sigh.
“Look, you said it yourself. He’s gone, not coming back. Buck up, Buttercup. There’s nothing you can do, so if you think I’m going to let you wallow in misery, you’ve got another thing comin’, Meems.”
Memories of that first day on the beach flood back in, and tears spring into my eyes. I’ll never readThe Princess Bridethe same again.
She takes my hands, squeezing lightly. “Promise me you won’t let it ruin the rest of the time you’ll be here. I already lost too much time with you. I don’t want to lose any more.”
I plaster on a fake smile. “You know, this may turn out to be a blessing. I came here to spend more time with you guys and ended up spending most of it with Knox. Now, you’ll have me all to yourself again.”
Sunny plops down beside me on my bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving me a side hug. “That’s the spirit. And hey, it may not be easy, but just forget about him. And no more tears.”
Right.
Something I didn’t consider when this summer with Knox began was that, in making all those memories, they’d be a constant reminder of what I had. And what I lost. Perhaps Sunny’s right. I’ve been an idiot all along. Worse, I was a coward.
She tells me not to cry, but I can’t help it.
There’s a tear every time I blink.
After running into Sunny and seeing the expression on her face at hearing of my leaving, I wanted to turn around and head right back to Amelia, demand she come to Nashville with me. But the thought of my dad lying in a hospital and Mom there at his side kept me on the road.
“Knox, you’re here,” Mom whispers, lifting from the chair beside Dad’s bed and coming towards me with open arms.
“Sorry I wasn’t here earlier. I got a bit of a later start than I planned.”
It’s an opportune time for Clay to walk in. He tosses me a wink. “I’m sure you did.”
Mom glances between us but doesn’t ask. Instead, she fusses over Dad, who insists he’s fine and we all need to get about our lives. We ignore him, and it’s a welcome distraction when Mom starts teasing him with stories from early on in their marriage. Then she turns her attention to Clay and me.
Eventually, a nurse kicks us out, and Mom declares she’s going home to pour a glass of sherry and take a bubble bath. I take Clay up on his offer of meeting at a bar around the corner.
Again, a welcome distraction.
We’re sitting at the bar, me nursing my bourbon and Clay sipping on a dirty martini. All it does is remind me of Amelia and the way she worked those tiny straws between her lips. I pick up my drink and down it one gulp, signaling for another.
I feel Clay’s eyes on me, and I turn towards him.
He gestures to my empty glass. “Something tells me you may have finished the house, but there’s still unfinished business in Crystal Cove.”
“Something like that.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Nope.”
