The Weight of Life Page 9

  I did know. But I also knew, from experience, that convincing other people to see your dreams the way you did was nearly an impossible feat.

  While I ruminated, we continued to work on the choreography for the song, but I couldn’t shake what Lotte had said, and on some level I wanted to help her. I just wasn’t sure how I could. Yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Mila: You owe me three dates, you know. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet.

  Ames: I believe, if my math holds true, that I owe you two dates.

  Mila: I thought you said Sam’s family dinner wasn’t a date.

  Ames: I thought you said it was.

  The playful flirting over texting with Ames wasn’t getting old yet. We hadn’t seen each other since the kiss, and I hadn’t been sure that he would reciprocate any kind of text flirting, initially. But he did, and so that’s what we did for three days after the kiss.

  Mila: For future reference, dates only count if you actually, explicitly, say they are dates.

  Ames: So, Postman’s Park doesn’t count then, I gather.

  Mila: I thought you were married, so that’s a no.

  Ames: Touché. Will you come to Free Refills tonight?

  Mila: Is it a date?

  Ames: I’m working. In the eloquent words of you, ‘so that’s a no’.

  Mila: So, you want me to come anyway? Just to keep you company.

  Ames: I haven’t seen your face in a few days. And I’d very much like to see it tonight.

  I chewed on my thumbnail and rolled over in my bed, feeling that addictive high that I’d felt back in high school, when flirting via text had been the best form of communication in all of my relationships. Ames intrigued me on a level that was unlike any other man I’d met and talked to. He was hot and cold, but then he had this layer that was so deep, I felt drawn to it despite the danger it echoed. It was the last thing I needed, with just three weeks until I left the country, bound for home again.

  I sighed, remembering my parents and Jude would be in London in less than a week. That didn’t give me a lot of time to spend with Ames before their intrusion would surely give me a desire to chug an entire bottle of antacids.

  Which reminded me that I still had to do my write-up of Postman’s Park for Jude, who was waiting for me to send him actual work for his site. I plugged the memory card reader into the computer and started importing the photos while I tidied my little hotel room. I’d have just a few more days in this room before I moved to another hotel, one with connected rooms so that my parents could incessantly knock on the door that separated us, and harass me at their every whim.

  The thought made me shudder with displeasure. I filled a glass with water and took one big sip just as my computer beeped, alerting me that all the photos were uploaded, I plopped into my computer chair and double-clicked on the first photo—taking little notice of the date it displayed.

  And that was when the water I was sipping turned into rocks in my throat, because across my screen was Colin.

  It was amazing how quickly the emotions could rush back in—just like the last time I’d looked into his eyes was yesterday. In the photo, he was looking off into the distance, his lips stretched in his lazy smile. The wind was doing something spectacular with his hair, and behind him was the most incredible sunrise.

  My hand went to my mouth and I barely resisted biting down on my knuckles. He looked so beautiful. He wasn’t looking at the camera, but at the view beyond us. I didn’t realize I was touching the screen, fingers tracing every curve of his face, until the screen shocked me and I pulled away.

  He’d been mine once. Looking at him, seeing that smile, I knew that when I’d snapped the photo, he’d been mine. And now, he was no one’s. Just another hole in the ground, in an expensive box topped with an expensive piece of rock. But he still felt like mine, and realizing that now had acid churning in my stomach.

  Warring images of his serene face in this photo clashed with the images in my mind of when he’d been in my arms the last time, holding my triceps as he’d shown me how to hold the set of weights in my hands. And then something had changed in his eyes, and he’d stumbled.

  I could still feel the shift of weight in my arms, remembered dropping the free weights as they’d clacked on the floor, and catching him before he fell beside them. He was heavier than me, and I’d struggled to hold him. But I wouldn’t let go of him, because the one thing running through my mind in that moment had been don’t let him fall, don’t let him drop. Hold onto him.

  And just as distinctively as I remembered the weight of him in my arms, I remembered the feel of hands pressed on me, pushing me away. And even more profoundly was the feel of my scream ripping through my throat as he was taken from me, as foreign hands held me back and whispered useless things in my ears—words I couldn’t process—not when Colin was being wheeled away from me, disappearing from my sight forever.

  But worse than those were the words he’d made me promise one night, as we lay in bed. Months, weeks before—I wasn’t sure. But looking back now, it was as if he’d known his time was limited. I’d tried to brush off his words, but he’d made me swear it—to repeat the words he’d said in our dark bedroom, before dawn lit our room. His head on my belly, eyes holding mine. Promise me, please, if something happens, don’t go to the hospital. I don’t want that to be your last memory of me.

  I’d kept my promise, despite nearly breaking it a hundred times. I wanted to break it, to show up at his hospital bed and scream at him. Because now, the last image in my head was Colin’s face paling, his lips going blue, and his eyes rolling back in his head. That was my last memory.

  My chest split and I pressed my fists to it, trying to keep the heat that suddenly burned behind my rib cage from spreading. But it was useless, because the heat climbed into my face and hot tears poured from my eyes. They dripped from my chin to my fingers, which were on the keyboard, holding completely still.

  I pushed away from my computer and stood, turning and facing the wall. Closing my fingers into fists, I brought them up and stared at the wall with all the contempt, all the anger I felt. And when my hands met the wall, they weren’t hard—they were soft. My fists turned into palms pressed against the pale blue paint, and my head came forward until my forehead was resting just above my palms.

  I missed him so much. Never more acutely than when I saw his face again, especially in a surprise moment like this one. The wall was a poor substitute for him, but it felt good to be touching something so solid and whole. As he’d been for me.

  My phone buzzed and pulled me from my thoughts. Ames. He was waiting for me to show up at Free Refills, as I’d promised. But the last thing on my mind was dressing up to see a man at a bar.

  I thought of Ames and the way he made me feel. Was I seeking a replacement for Colin? Was I unknowingly using Ames in order to feel a man’s touch again? The thoughts penetrated my subconscious and I couldn’t let them go. They consumed me so much that even as I curled up in a ball on the bed, pillow pulled tight to my chest, I told myself I’d go. I’d let him hold me, and see if it was like when Colin held me.

  When I awoke, I realized I’d been asleep for three hours and was an hour past the time I told Ames I’d be at Free Refills. My eyes felt tight, and my face was sore. After peeking in the mirror, I realized how badly I needed a whole lot of makeup to hide my swollen, red face from Ames. I needed to go to Free Refills, to see if I was imagining things. To see if Ames was a replacement for Colin. Because if so, I was no better than I was when I’d stolen another woman’s boyfriend.

  I spent a great deal of time on my makeup, making sure my skin looked clear of any anguish. It took a dozen eye drops to erase the redness from my eyes, but in the end, I knew I looked a hell of a lot better than I had hours earlier.

  Free Refills was slammed when I arrived. So busy, in fact, that I could barely squeeze between people at the bar in order to flag down Jennie—who was the only bartender currently on duty. />
  “Wine?” she hollered over the loud music.

  I shook my head and pointed at a bottle of tequila behind her.

  “A shot?” she mouthed and I nodded.

  She didn’t question me, just poured it and slid it in front of me. Without even a blink, I tossed it back and held up two fingers for more. That time she did pause to look me over. “Ames is on break,” she hollered as she poured the shots.

  I nodded like I knew. Because I did. He’d texted me, asking where I was. I hadn’t replied but had just shown up.

  I wasn’t sure how I heard it over the impromptu and unofficial karaoke session happening in the corner of the bar, but the creak of the back door caused me to turn, just as Ames stepped through and immediately looked at me.

  This time, unlike the last time he’d walked through that door, he smiled. And it caught me so completely off guard that all I could do was stare at him as he made his way through the crowd.

  Looking at him was like waking up. Eyes opening slowly, finding my bearings, and reminding myself that I was safe.

  I shook my head to clear my thoughts just as he reached me.

  “Hey,” he said, leaning on the bar and facing me. His hand was palm down on the counter, inches from mine and I wanted him to touch me—to prove or disprove my worries. But he stayed there, taunting me, just as Jennie took that most opportune time to deposit my two shot glasses down.

  “Big night, huh?” she asked.

  Ames eyed the drinks and looked at me. “You okay?”

  I tore my gaze away, tossed back the shots, and looked at the tiny dance floor. “Yup.” Sam was dancing with a raven-haired woman, spinning her in circles so fast that her hair spun like a tornado around her head. “Great. Jennie,” I called, waving a hand. “Two more.”

  Jennie approached me, her eyes darting between Ames and me. She grabbed my shot glasses and Ames put a hand on hers, to halt her. “How much did you put away before coming here?” he asked.

  I thought of the bottle of wine I’d consumed from the hotel bar, and shook my head. “If you don’t want to give me any more, that’s fine.” I licked my lips because the room was starting to spin a little, and my lips felt like sandpaper. I mimicked holding a pen as I scribbled nothing into the surface of the table top. “This place has good beer but the service is lacking.” I narrowed my eyes at her and then immediately stopped and pushed myself upright. “Sorry, that was mean. You’re great, Jennie.” I rubbed my forehead, willing my vision to focus, but shockingly, it wouldn’t.

  “It’s all right, Mila, but all the same to you, I’d rather you sober up a bit before I let Jennie serve you anymore.”

  “Let?” I asked, leveling Ames with a look. I swallowed to keep from slurring my words like I worried I would. “You’re not her boss.”

  “Well, oddly enough, I am.”

  “Yeah, well, this is a free country,” I said indignantly. But was it? That was an American saying, wasn’t it? “Is this a free country?”

  Ames waved at Jennie and she moved down the bar as he came closer.

  “What’s going on?” he asked me, and the softness of his voice, the concern I could distinctly hear, was enough for me to wish I hadn’t come at all.

  “She’s really good, Ames.” I gestured toward Jennie. “She can pour those shots without even watching the glasses and never spills. I’m not good at stuff like she’s good at that. I’m not good at stuff.”

  I wouldn’t look at him. I squeezed my eyes tight for a moment, because it was my instinct to curl into him, to wrap my arms around his middle, to press my face against his chest, to hear his heartbeat. But I didn’t want to be searching for a replacement in Ames. That wasn’t fair to him.

  “I’m going to dance,” I said, moving past him to the dance floor. I told myself not to turn around, not to look at him, but just as I stepped toward the speaker, I peeked over my shoulder and saw him watching me by my seat at the bar, and I knew he was worried for me.

  I needed to push him from my mind, at least for the moment. If he was merely a replacement for Colin, I’d need to figure that out by being in the arms of another guy first.

  I stepped up to Sam and tapped him on the shoulder. “Oh, hey Mila,” he said with a grin. The raven-haired beauty he was dancing with moved away from us, so it was just me and him.

  Leaning forward and bracing my hands on his forearms, I whisper-yelled, “Dance with me.”

  His forehead crinkled and I watched as he lifted his head, presumably to look for Ames. So I spun him around, his back to Ames, which put my face at Ames’ line of sight. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been a terrible thing, but my vision was blurred enough that all I could make out was his dark hair and a blurry, tanned face.

  “Put your arm around my waist,” I told Sam, not just so he could lead, but also so he could keep me from falling over.

  “Got you.” His arm came around my waist and my head came to his shoulder, so I leaned against it as we swayed along to the beat that had slowed with the change of the song. I waited to feel the way I’d felt in Ames’ arms, but when I didn’t, I waited to feel the way I’d felt in Colin’s arms. But I felt nothing. Maybe the alcohol was acting like an anesthetic.

  I moved closer, until there wasn’t even a breath of space between us.

  “You know, Mila,” Sam said, his mouth at my ear. “I think if I lit a lighter between us right now, we’d go up in flames.”

  I squinted and peered up at him. “I don’t understand your British sayings. What does that mean?”

  Sam laughed, his smile wide, and while I could register that he was an attractive man, with many good qualities, he just didn’t stir my blood the way Ames had. So I stared up at him like he was a friend. Nothing more than that. “It’s not a British saying. I’m trying to tell you that you smell like you’ve rolled around in tequila.”

  “You’re a romantic one,” I told him sourly. “Thanks for that.”

  He laughed. “I don’t think you’re looking for romance from me.” His head lifted and there was a look of surprise on his face a second before a hand came into my vision, pushing Sam away.

  “Calm down, A.” Sam held his hands up and I turned to Ames who was glaring at him before he turned to me.

  “What’s going on, Mila?”

  Without Sam holding me, I felt my body sway back and forth, and then an arm came around my waist.

  “Come on, let’s get you some fresh air.”

  I hardly registered the door to the back garden being opened, but the cool rush of air from it washed my face enough that I sobered up, at least for that moment.

  “Here,” he said gruffly, and dragged a chair from a table before leading me to sit in it.

  The metal of the chair was cold, but not in an unwelcome way. I ran my hands around the roundness of the table. “I’m sorry,” I said without looking at him. “I shouldn’t have come.”

  Ames sat in the chair beside me, and then scooted his seat as close as he could to me. His knees bumped against mine, but he kept moving until my knees were between his. He took my hands and placed them palms up before covering them with his. “I’m glad you came.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but just sitting here, with my legs between his and his hands gently touching mine, was rendering me speechless. This was different than Sam—leagues different and miles deeper. And it was different than Colin too.

  I lifted my eyes to his. “I had a bad day.”

  “I’d guessed as much.” His fingers flexed against mine and I curled into his touch.

  “This is better.” I gave him a weak smile and after spending most of the evening trying not to look at him, I suddenly couldn’t not look at him.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  I shook my head, not needing to talk about it. Just this moment had erased all doubts, had soothed whatever fears had crept up. “I know you have work to do. I’m sorry for creating a scene in there.” I lifted my shoulder, but didn’t look back t
oward the bar—because I just couldn’t stop looking at him.

  “I do have to get back inside. It’s too busy for me to leave Jen for so long, but I don’t want you to leave.” He leaned in and his hands slid from mine, up my arms and cupped my elbows. “Stick around, okay?”

  Nodding, I let him pull me back to standing. He tilted his head as he regarded me, and then he reached for my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Come sit at the bar, I’ll get you some food.”

  He held his hand there, his finger just grazing the outside of my ear and I shivered.

  “Let’s get you inside, where it’s warm.”

  I let him lead me back inside, but he didn’t know that just being there, on the patio with him, was the warmest I’d been all night.

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time our last patron—Sam, no surprise—was out the door, Mila was doing some kind of wave dance in her seat. Her entire upper body wiggled back and forth in her seat, her eyes all heavy-lidded, and there was something undeniably attractive about that, that sleepy kind of sexiness. But she wasn’t the least bit sober, which negated any sexual thoughts I’d been having about her.

  “You’re cut off,” I told her, after she pushed the empty glass toward me.

  She pouted, which did nothing to diminish her attractiveness. In fact, all it did was remind me of when I’d kissed her. How those lips had tasted under mine. But she was in a much different mood now, three days later, than she’d been then. If anything, seeing her with her guard down appealed to me on a level that was deeper than I wanted to entertain.

  “But Aaaaames,” she said, drawing my name out like it stretched the length of the bar. “I needs it.”

  “Needs? Are you a plural person? And besides, I don’t think alcohol is a ‘need’ for anyone.”