“Not tonight, I can tell you that much,” she says.
“What, I don’t even get to play the role of the big bad son who will shoot his ass with a shotgun if he hurts my mom?”
“You don’t even own a shotgun.”
“Easy fix.”
She snorts a laugh, and then David’s phone rings, and he holds it up with a toothy grin.
“Julia,” he says. “Better make sure Tucker’s alright. Be right back.”
He disappears through the dining room and out the back door, and then Amanda and I are alone.
Her eyes flick to mine, but she tears them away quickly, turning to open the fridge like she’s looking for something when we both know she just doesn’t want to look at me.
I clear my throat, sliding my hands inside my pockets. “You look incredible, Amanda.”
Her hand grips the fridge door handle tighter, her shoulders tensing before they slump over. Slowly, she shuts the door, leaning against it with her eyes skirting up to mine. “Thank you.”
“Nervous?”
She picks at her nails. “A little.”
I wonder if this is what it feels like to be tortured, if being waterboarded is the equivalent to how my lungs are seizing up, my chest burning at the sight of her all dolled up to go on a date with another man.
Another man who will get to stare at her all night, talk to her, laugh with her.
Touch her.
Kiss her.
I blow out a breath through my nose, closing my eyes and shaking off the masochism before I take a strong, steady step toward her.
“I’m really sorry about last night,” I say, stopping at the island a few feet away from her. “I didn’t just overstep, I put my nose in your business when it wasn’t my place to do so. And I made the false assumption that you can’t handle yourself, which I know you can. I should—”
“Stop,” she says, exhaling long and deep. “It wasn’t you. I overreacted.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did,” she says, meeting my gaze. “I’m just… tender.”
Those words weigh down on my already-crushed ribs. The way she’s looking at me, the way her eyes are sad and tense and filled with worries I know plague her — it kills me.
Glancing over my shoulder to confirm David is still on the phone, I step a little closer to her, lowering my voice.
“You’re more than what he made you believe you are.”
Amanda closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the fridge as she sips a shallow breath.
“Look at me.”
She shakes her head.
“Amanda, look at me.”
This time, she lets out another slow breath, her eyes a bit glossy when they open and meet mine.
“Samuel is lucky to be taking you out tonight, and he knows it. He wouldn’t put in this effort if he didn’t want something more than what I insinuated last night.”
She rolls her lips together, ready to argue, but I continue before she can.
“I’m sorry I said it. I judged him too quickly. I don’t even know the guy. And the truth is, I’d be a prick to anyone taking you on a date, because no matter how good a person they are, I’d still be jealous of them.” I swallow. “Because they get to have you, and I don’t.”
Tears well in her eyes, thick enough to fall if she so much as blinked.
“But I’m willing to accept that, if that’s the way it has to be. As long as you’re happy.”
Swallowing, I reach out and touch her hand — just barely, just enough to let her feel me.
“I hope you have a nice time tonight. You deserve it. Truly.”
Her face crumples. “Greg, I—”
The sliding glass door whizzes open, and I quickly jump back away from Amanda, breaking our contact and reaching for my glass of water.
“Apparently, Julia is having some other moms over to our place for a baby play date tonight,” David announces, still looking at his phone as he waltzes into the kitchen.
Amanda turns toward the fridge again, subtly dabbing under her eyes.
“Which means I can’t go home for a while,” he adds with a chuckle, tucking his phone away. “You got plans tonight, Greg?”
I chance a glance at Amanda to make sure she’s okay, then force a smile at David. “Not a single thing.”
“Great. I’m forcing you to hang out with me.”
I chuckle. “No force necessary.”
The doorbell rings then.
David’s eyes light up, a shit-eating grin on his face as he rushes to the door to the tune of his mom warning him not to say anything stupid to her date.
Amanda fixes her makeup in the hallway mirror, smoothing her hands over her dress.
I try not to be sick.
A moment later, Samuel is walking into the kitchen, him and David laughing over something as he claps David on the shoulder.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, and then his eyes find Amanda.
I can’t look.
I can’t bear to watch his eyes take her in, or her blush under his gaze, or whatever hug or kiss is about to happen as a greeting.