Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

“Honestly, I think that’s what scares me the most. That I’m so wrapped up in myself that I don’t notice all the important stuff going on around me…the important people.”

Shaking his head, he stops me from uttering another word. “I mean, you’re full of life. You’re the kind of woman any man would be lucky to sustain himself on.”

“Jesus, Dan, if you don’t stop, you’re going to turn me into a slobbering mess,” I say, wiping more tears away.

His low chuckle makes me chuckle, too. I’d liked Dan instantly, which never happened with the men Eileen brought home. And there were plenty. That was another facet to the devastation I felt when she told me I couldn’t live with them. I’d never had a father and part of me thought Dan was meant for me.

“How’s Billy?”

“Great. He’s still at IBM. He married Liz last year.”

I nod and smile. Billy is just like his dad, a rock, a solid citizen and a good man.

“There’s a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a long time.” His sage green eyes hold mine for a beat. “Was that you, that left the dog shit when we still lived in Jersey?”

I can’t stop the corners of my mouth from creeping up. Holding his amusement filled gaze, I say, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The rumble of laughter starts deep in his chest and explodes out of him. “I knew it. I knew it,” he says, head shaking. “Why’d you stop?” The question pops out as if he suddenly realized he needed to know.

“One day, I hid behind the bushes across the street to revel in my handiwork. I’d made a sling shot that day and chucked it at the white garage doors.”

Dan groans. “I remember.”

“I was so proud of myself for that one. Until the front door opened and I watched you come out with a bucket and a sponge. It never occurred to me that you were the one paying the price. I should have, though. I should’ve known she wouldn’t be the one cleaning it up.” I shrug, stealing a glance at Dan to asses the damage the truth has done and find a smile still gracing his face. “I couldn’t do it once I knew it was you bearing the brunt of it.”

“Amber.” Dan’s voice sounds suddenly serious. Glancing in his direction, I find his profile. “I don’t have many regrets. But the one at the top of my list is that I didn’t fight harder for you when we got married. I was so out of it. In love and dealing with the guilt of moving on without Marie that you suffered the consequence––”

“Dan, you don’t have anything to apologize––“

“Let me, please,” he says, cutting me off.

“I’m sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Dan. Really.”

Dan smiles. Searching and finding the truth of that statement in my eyes, he nods.

I get out of the car and Dan, ever the gentleman, walks me to my stoop.

“Thanks for the ride.”

He hugs me and pats my back and once again, I’m on the verge of another gusher.

“Be safe. Good luck. And come back to us soon.”

As soon as I’m back inside my empty apartment I lay down on the bare mattress. The NYU students who live downstairs will be over tomorrow morning to pick it up. The emotional dump makes me sleepy. With any luck, tonight will be the first night where Ethan doesn’t invade my dreams. I won’t hold my breath, though.

Chapter Thirty

“The guy on table twelve said he wants you to pick the croutons out of his Caesar salad.”

Britney holds up the plate for my inspection. Two weeks in California. One of those weeks spent waiting tables night and day at an über trendy restaurant along Sunset Blvd. and I’m already itching to quit.

The guy on table twelve can kiss my skinny ass.

“Welcome to L.A.,” she adds with an eye roll.

“I’m surprised they haven’t already passed a proposition to ban all carbs from entering the state,” I grumble in return.

“Doesn’t it makes you want to run back to New York?”

New York. Where all the people I love are. Every cell in my body is screaming to run back and carbs have nothing to do with it. Sleep is an impossible goal almost every night. I bought no less than four new electric boyfriends, and even they proved a total fucking disappointment. After breaking two of them in my vigor to achieve the unachievable, I finally chucked them all in the trash. Not without some drama; my new seventy year old neighbor was passing me on the way to walk his dog at the same time I was busy smashing one against the sidewalk. According to Mr. Goldman I need to deal with my anger management issues posthaste.

Missing Ethan is a constant, relentless craving, akin to being hungry twenty-four seven. It dominates my every waking moment, and the few hours of sleep I manage to catch. I so badly want to call him to see how he is, how he’s faring at his new job. But then what?