No One Else (The Ladies Who Brunch 2)

Monday morning comes, and even though I want nothing to do with going to work, it’s too late to reschedule any of my clients. Besides, I think the distraction might be good and get my mind off things.

The girls stayed until seven last night, making sure I took a shower, putting eye patches under my eyes to help with the swelling from crying, and making sure I ate something besides cookie dough for dinner, even though I really didn’t have that much of an appetite.

Nonetheless, without their encouragement and support, I don’t know that I would be standing today, even though I’m barely coherent if I’m being honest.

And the worst part is, I know I might see Ethan at some point, and I’m not sure how I’m going to handle it.

I make it through the morning without crossing paths with him and, like I thought, having my client sessions helps keep my mind off the situation. Even though I’m sitting here helping people repair their marriages when I know my relationship can’t be repaired and that still freaking stings. But it’s my job, so I’m going to use work as a distraction as best I can for as long as it helps.

However, right before noon, there’s a knock on my door that has my heart rate jump starting.

Slowly rising from my desk, I walk to the door and peek through the curtains to see Ethan standing there. I don’t move or make a sound because I don’t want to talk to him. Seeing him, hearing what he has to say, is only going to confuse me, even though knowing he’s out there has me missing him even more.

How am I going to get through this?

I know I made the right decision by standing up for myself and what I want out of my life. I never considered myself to be someone to sacrifice my dreams for a man, and I’m not going to start being that woman now, no matter how much I love the man and his son.

“Amelia? I know you’re in there.” He knocks lightly again. “Can we talk, please?”

I hold my breath as I contemplate a reply. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ethan. We said what we needed the other night.”

“I won’t take much of your time, I swear. It’s about Oliver.”

Fuck, really? He wants to use his son as bait? Would he really do that?

Deep down I know the answer is no.

Inhaling a breath of courage, I unlock my door and open it up to find Ethan looking about as haggard as I feel. His tie is gone, his shirt wrinkled, and the bags under his eyes are just as bad as mine.

“Amelia…” he breathes out, swallowing hard. “You look…”

I hold my hand up, cutting him off. “Don’t. What did you need to speak with me about, Ethan? About your son?”

“Oliver wanted to know if you would be at his last game this Saturday, and I…” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know what to say to him.”

“I’ll be there,” I reply soundly.

“You will?”

“Yes, Ethan. I told you that I would never lie to him. I promised I would attend his games and his play, so I plan to make good on those promises. Oliver doesn’t deserve being let down just because you and I aren’t together anymore.”

He takes a step toward me, but I take one back. “Please, can we talk about the other night?”

I hold up a shaky hand. “No. We said all that we needed to say. You were very clear…”

“I love you, Amelia,” he says, pleading with his voice.

“People that love you care about how they make you feel, Ethan. The end. You made me feel disposable like you were using me for what you wanted but weren’t ever willing to let me in completely. And I don’t deserve that.”

“I wasn’t using you. I just…”

“I’ll be at Oliver’s game, Ethan. Tell him to look for me. But please don’t come by here again. I need space from you so I can move on.”

“Move on?”

“Yes, someday. Not now because it’s going to take me a long time to get over you. But one day, I want to find someone who wants the same things I do, and I can’t do that if you keep inserting yourself into my life.” I reach for the door and start to close it slowly.

“Amelia, don’t do this.”

“I didn’t end this, Ethan. You did.” Clicking the door in place, I inhale a shaky breath and then cover my mouth as a sob runs through me. And I let myself feel everything at that moment—the disappointment, the anger, the sadness, and the love I still feel for him. It’s going to take me a long time to be ready to find that with someone else, but I have faith that I can. I have to believe that—otherwise, I don’t want to think about the alternative.

* * *

Leaning up against a tree, I remain far enough from the sideline that I’m not in close proximity to Ethan but close enough that Oliver can see me standing there at his game, cheering him on.

It’s been a hell of a week, a very long week of avoiding Ethan around the complex and dodging his calls. I’m not sure what he thought would happen if I picked up the phone the two times he felt brave enough to dial my number. Nothing has changed as far as I know, and one week isn’t enough time to come to that sort of epiphany anyway.

“Go Oliver!” I shout as he races down the field with the ball, taking a shot at the goal but missing it narrowly. Seriously, the kid has skills, and I’m going to miss watching him play and seeing him progress as he gets older, something I didn’t realize until just now. I’m going to miss out on his entire life.

“Amelia.” A familiar voice to my left has me twisting my head to find Lisa, Ethan’s mom, standing there fumbling with her hands in front of her.

“Hi, Lisa.”

“Hi, sweetie. How are you?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“Oh, I’ve been better. But I’m still standing.”

She sucks in her bottom lip. “You’re not the only one suffering, honey. First, I want you to know how sorry I am for having that conversation with my son while you were in the house…”

“You don’t have to apologize to me for speaking with him in your home, Lisa. And you actually did me a favor. It’s better that I found out how he feels now than years down the line.”

“But that’s the thing, Amelia, I don’t think my son feels that way at all. I know he’s just scared. And believe me, he’s hurting too. He misses you, and so does Oliver.”

I choke back tears. “I miss them too, Lisa, but it doesn’t change anything. Ethan was clear about what he wants, and I can’t settle.”

She nods. “I understand that more than you know. It’s partly my fault, really.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Ethan is a product of divorce. His father and I separated when he was just two, and then Monica left just after Oliver turned three. He’s never seen an example of a healthy relationship, of two people who fight for one another and genuinely love each other. I have a man in my life now, but it’s too late for that to help change the way he feels.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve experienced divorce as well, Lisa. But Ethan has decided not to try again even with the right person, and that’s his choice. I think if he really considered what’s at stake, he would find that being alone is worse than the probability of committing to someone again who would do everything in their power not to hurt him, especially someone who isn’t his ex-wife.”

“You’re right. And I know I have no business saying this,” she says, reaching for my hand and squeezing it. “But please don’t write him off. I know my son, and I know what he feels for you. He just needs to figure it out, and once he does, he will be the most loyal man, the way he is as a father to his son. I know he wants to take the chance with you, he just needs to come to that realization on his own.”

Her words offer me a sliver of hope, one I haven’t felt this entire week apart from him. But would I be stupid to believe in that possibility when I’m still so fragile from the hurt he caused?

“Don’t say anything. I know I’m asking a lot. But just promise me you’ll think about it, and please accept my apology again.”

“I’ll miss you, Lisa.” Pulling her in for a hug, I hold her close for a few moments before releasing her, not wanting to give her false hope, but hopefully some closure.

“This isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of me, Amelia.” And with a knowing smile, she returns to the sideline next to her son, who casts me yet another glance over his shoulder.

Ethan has looked in my direction five times since I arrived at the game earlier, and each time the length of his stare gets longer. But I can’t get a read on what he’s thinking, even though it shouldn’t matter. I’m not here for him. I’m here for Oliver.

“Amelia!” Oliver runs up to me as soon as the game ends, plowing into my legs.