A small little smile curves her lips before she nods. “I want to be there.”
A sigh of completion leaves my lips, and I’m thinking those three little words. Actually, they’re screaming in my head, but I don’t think either of us is ready for them. So instead, I take her mouth with mine and know the only thing I’m truly thankful for this year is her.
Chapter Eighteen
Amelia
“I won’t be alone.”
“Amelia, honey, just come home. Elli will send the plane now,” my mom insists. I know she’s getting upset, but I’m not ready. The thought of being around my whole family, having them look at me like I’ve messed up my life completely, is not how I want to spend the holiday. Plus, I know they’ll try to pressure me into moving back home. Sofia will come at me with the perfect job. Ryan will say I need family. My mom will stress that she has a place for me to stay, and then my aunt and uncle will fill in what everyone else hasn’t covered. It’s what my family does. They love until you’re completely suffocated and start to agree with them.
“Mom, really, I’m good.”
“We haven’t had a holiday together in years. This was our year.”
“No, it wasn’t. Not yet. I promise, I’ll come home next year.”
She lets out an aggravated sigh. “So you’re staying there?”
Damn, why did I say that? “I don’t know, Mom. I’m trying to figure things out. That is what this year is supposed to do for me.”
“But it’s been over a year now.”
I want to slam my head into the dashboard. Chandler must feel my anxiety, because he grabs my hand, kissing my palm. I send him a weak smile as I sigh deeply. “I know, and I’m still working things out. I won’t apologize for wanting to better myself and heal, Mom.”
She lets out a long breath. “Fine. I understand. I took a solid three years when I lost your dad.”
“Exactly. Thank you.”
“But you’re not alone?”
“No, I promise I’m not.”
“Who are you with?”
I look to my left, where Chandler is driving with absolutely no clue that he may be saving me one day at a time. I don’t know how in the world this all happened, but it has. I find myself wanting him all the time. He was only gone for four days, and I’ve been so lonely without him. I fear I’m depending on him, but then I remind myself it’s just my broken confidence that makes me feel that way. I was okay before him, I was finding myself, and I was working. I didn’t just lie in bed, crying over my failed marriage. I was living. But now, I’m living my best life because he’s adding to it in such a beautiful way.
He makes me happy.
“I’d rather not say.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll jump to conclusions.”
“So it’s a guy?”
“Mom—”
“Please, do not let it be Drew.”
“Ew,” I say quickly, my face scrunched up. “No, never.”
“Oh. Thank God.” She breathes out a sigh of relief, and I smile. “I sort of hope it’s Chandler, though I’m sure Ryan will have something to say about that.”
“Okay, so I’m gonna go.”
“Fine. I love you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Love you. Happy Thanksgiving.”
I hang up the phone and tuck it into my purse. Chandler looks over at me, and I smile. He’s wearing a nice dress shirt and slacks. His hair is brushed to the side, and he’s had his beard neatly barbered. Mostly because his mom hates it. But I adore it. He looks devilishly handsome.
“You didn’t tell her you were here?”
“No,” I say, lacing my fingers with his. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “All that matters is that you’re here.”
I eye him. I feel like he wants more than what I am giving him. Like maybe he thinks I should have told my mom where I was? I lick my lips. “Are you sure? You seem upset.”
He raises a brow. “Upset? I’m great. I’ve missed you.”
I don’t believe him. “Did you want me to tell her?”
“I mean, it would be cool. But at the same time, I know why you didn’t. You’re not ready to do all that. Also, I’d really like to talk to Ryan first.”
I want to believe him, but I feel like I’m doing wrong in some way. “Oh.”
“The thing is, Amelia, I don’t care who knows about us. I’m with you, you’re with me, and that’s that. No one will change that except you or me. It’s that simple.”
I chew on the inside of my mouth as he pulls into a driveway. He puts the car in park and then looks at me. “Okay?”
“So, you’re not mad at me?” I find myself asking, and his brows pull together.
“Did I say I was?” he asks, but before I can even answer, he shakes his head. “Listen, this is the only time I’ll come out and say this. I don’t know what your ex did—you haven’t told me—but if something is wrong, I’ll tell you. I have no problem communicating with you what I am feeling or what I think because I trust you and I feel comfortable with you.”