Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (13 page)

“When’s the last time you got eight hours of sleep, Amy Margaret? There are dark circles under your eyes. You look like you haven’t slept in a week! You’re exhausted, and you’re putting in too many hours at the shop.”

“Mom, I’m fine. I get plenty of sleep. Everything is going well.”

“I don’t think—” Margaret stopped, shook her head, and changed the subject. “I think your dad wants some time with you, honey. He misses you.”

“I miss him, too.” Amy let out a sigh and then pasted a smile on her face. “Things are going great at the shop. I’m really pleased with the increase in business. It’s great to see the things I’ve worked so hard for happen.” She’d like to add,
“I’m a huge success and you should be as proud of me as you are of Emily,”
but this would certainly start an inquisition about how successful she was, and why she would think they weren’t as proud of her as they were of her sister.

Her mother glanced up from the tray of food and drinks she was assembling. “What’s this I hear about a date? Emily called me to find out if I knew anything.”

“Mom, I had dinner with a friend of Brandon’s. It’s not a big deal.”

“Are you going to see him again?” Meg asked.

Amy let out a groan.

“I’m just teasing you. I am curious, though. I can’t remember the last time you didn’t tell Emily or me all about a date. What’s the big secret?” Meg’s amber-brown eyes, the same color as Amy’s, sparkled in the dimly lit kitchen.

“There’s no big secret. I’ll tell you all about it when there’s something to tell.” There was definitely something to tell. Right now, though, there was something more pressing on her mind.

“So, Dad moved back in?”

Amy’s parents had split up when she was a teenager, in a fusillade of bitterness and arguing. It was the defining event of Amy’s teen years. Her parents’ divorce still reverberated in Amy’s life, years later. She knew the divorce wasn’t her fault. Her parents had told their two daughters that, sometimes, two people just couldn’t get along. Amy wanted her life to be different. Unlike Emily, though, the information hadn’t made it from Amy’s head to her heart.

After years of fighting, Amy’s dad left as the result of Meg’s belief he was cheating on her. He wasn’t, but that information didn’t come to light until the damage was done. If Amy’s dad would leave her mother, some man would leave Amy, too, sooner or later. She realized it wasn’t normal to believe this, or to do or say whatever it might take to force the latest guy away from her. She knew she was picking guys who weren’t right for her in the first place, but trying to understand why she did it left her bewildered and heartbroken. Again.

Even more confusing, her parents had reconciled. She was torn between happiness for them and the residual anger that came when she realized they had fought for years instead of talking it out.

Amy’s mom wiped her hands on her apron. “The lease on his apartment was up—”

“Mom.”

“Amy Margaret, our living arrangements are between your father and me.” She picked up the tray. “Speaking of your father, I’ll bet he’s looking for a beer.”

Amy picked up the plateful of wings and trailed behind. She loved her mom, but she longed to ask her why Amy’s social life was always open for discussion, while her parents’ relationship was off-limits. After all, it wasn’t like the years and years of acrimony had any effect on the family or anything.

Mark Hamilton got up from his recliner, took the heavy tray out of his ex-wife’s hands, and set it down on the coffee table. “Thanks, honey. Are you sure you don’t want to sit with us for a few minutes? We’d love your company.”

His now-fiancée reached up to kiss his cheek. “That’s very sweet, but I’ll be right outside. Our little girl’s here. Didn’t you want to spend some time with her?”

Amy’s mom stroked her cheek. “Have fun. I’ll check on you two in a little while.”

Amy’s dad reached out for her. “Hey, where’s my hug?”

A
MY OBVIOUSLY GOT
her height from her dad. At five-nine she towered over both her mother and Emily. Mark Hamilton was over six feet tall, and kept his lean, rangy frame with jogging and racquetball. His chestnut-colored hair was graying, too, but he rose out of his chair swiftly. Her dad wrapped his arms around her, gave her a breath-stealing squeeze, and kissed the top of her head.

“I’ve missed you, Twinkletoes. Let’s watch some hoops.”

Amy and her dad concentrated on food and basketball till halftime. The Huskies were up by eight points. Mark wiped the wing evidence off his face with a well-used napkin, and glanced over at his daughter.

“Dad, do you need another beer? Maybe I should grab some now.”

“It can wait. How are you doing? Your mom said she talked to Emily, but all I heard out of that conversation was something about wedding photos. How’s it going at the shop?”

“It’s fine. It’s busy. I’m happy about that. Just the usual stuff,” she assured him.

“Have you heard from Brian?”

“No. I don’t think he’s going to be calling me again.” Amy resisted the impulse to slam the rest of her bottle of beer.

“I wondered if he was the guy you had a date with last weekend. Your mom mentioned something about it, and that you wouldn’t tell anyone who you were with.”

“No, Dad, he wasn’t. I had dinner with one of Brandon’s friends.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Sure. It was fun.” She tried to keep her voice casual. Of course, her dad saw right through that.

Mark pulled the lever to sit up straight in his recliner. “Do you think you’ll see him again?”

“We have a date tomorrow night.”

“We want to meet him,” he said.

“Dad. He’s just a guy I had dinner with. I promise I won’t marry him without telling you first.” She got up from the couch. “The second half’s going to start. I’ll be right back.”

Amy made a beeline toward the powder room on the first floor of her parents’ house, followed by a quick stop in the kitchen to grab some beverages. Her dad wasn’t going to give up on this. Then again, if the second half was exciting enough, he might forget all about it.

The Huskies ran away with the second half. Even with more beer, Mark Hamilton proved to be more than a bit curious about Amy’s dinner date.

“So, tell me about him. What does he do?”

If the words “He works in sports broadcasting” left Amy’s lips, her dad would go bananas. He wouldn’t ask for game tickets or anything. Her dad was a sports fan who was most likely quite familiar with Matt and his reputation with the ladies, well-deserved or not. He tended to take a dim view of that kind of thing, especially when it involved his daughter.

“He lives in Redmond. He’s in communications. He’s divorced. Dad, what is the deal? I know you guys loved Brian, but he didn’t love me. There’s not a lot I can do about that.”

“Brian’s a coward. If he didn’t want you to come along to New York with him, he should have cut things off a long time ago. So, what’s the difference between him and the new guy?”

“The new guy wanted to have dinner with me?” She saw her dad’s grin. “It was just a date. He’s nice. I don’t believe he has a police record. If things get more serious, I’ll bring him over here so you and Mom can meet him.” Amy took a breath. “Dad, when are you and Mom getting remarried?”

Mark slid one arm over the back of the couch. “So, sweetie, I’m not sure how to answer your question.”

“Why?”

“Your mom and I discussed it. We’re going to live together for a little while first.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’re also seeing a counselor, to get a handle on some of the things that went wrong before.”

Amy’s head snapped up. She knew she must have looked startled. “But Emily said you didn’t really cheat. She said that you and Mom just fought all the time, and—Dad, is there something else I don’t know?”

“No. Of course not. The rest of the things that went wrong were between your mom and me, and they were mostly due to the fact that I’m still not the best at the talking thing. She needs to talk when she’s upset, and I didn’t understand that. See? We’ve been talking for less than five minutes, and you’re about to jump out of your skin.” He pulled her closer. “Listen, I have something I want to tell you.”

Amy swallowed hard. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. First, though, I’m going to answer your question.” He thought for a minute. “This is between us. Don’t tell your mother.”

“Okayyy.” Her dad wasn’t usually a secrets kind of a guy.

“I want to take her on a really nice honeymoon this time, so I’ve been putting some money away. I should have enough in a couple of months. We’re going to New York for a week, and then Paris, if she’d like to go. We want to have a small wedding in the backyard. Your mother wants to show off her garden, but we have to wait until it stops raining long enough.” He looked into Amy’s eyes. “No matter what, we’re getting married again, and we’ll stay married for the rest of our lives. How’s that?”

Amy hoped her expression was blank, that she’d rapidly concealed her apprehension over what he might say, and forced a smile.

“Dad, that’s great. She loves New York, and I know she’s always wanted to go to Paris. Maybe you all can go to the ballet. She would love it—”

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

She nodded, studying her clenched hands.

“Even an old dog can learn new tricks. The counselor has been a lot of help.” She heard the sounds of his whiskers as he rubbed one hand across his mouth. “I’ve thought for a long time on how to say this. Maybe the best thing is to just say it. Amy, honey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about what happened between your mom and me, and I’m sorry that I moved out instead of staying and trying to fix it. I thought that if I made the extra effort to spend time with you, you’d understand, but mostly, I wimped out, as you kids would say.”

She still couldn’t look at him. She didn’t glance at the TV.

“I know it was really hard on you and Emily, maybe harder than it was on us. I should have apologized to you a long time ago. I was wrong. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

She put one hand over her mouth. Her shoulders were shaking. She saw her dad hit Mute on the TV remote and wait.

A
MY LET OUT
a sob. Her dad had said the words she’d waited twenty-one years to hear. During her teenage years, she prayed her parents would get back together like some girls prayed for a date with the Backstreet Boys. She was reminded of the old cliché:
Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.
Mostly, she was attempting to avoid a crying jag of epic proportions.

She’d prefer to have some kind of breakdown by herself, thanks.

Her dad rubbed her back, just like he had when she was a child and had skinned her knee. “Shhh.” He comforted her. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

If she looked at him right now she was going to cry and cry and never stop. She covered her face with both hands.

“You’re not too old to cry on my shoulder.”

She gathered every bit of self-control she’d ever had. “Could we talk about this later?” She choked the words out.

She heard the effort in his voice. He wanted to sound casual. “Sure. Why don’t we sit here and relax? Good game, huh?”

She felt the movement as her dad leaned back against the couch cushions. He was still rubbing her back. The only sounds in the room were their breathing and the ticking of the anniversary clock that had sat on the mantel since Amy was young.

There was no moisture left in her mouth. All at once she was freezing cold, and she was shaking. She fought the impulse to grab her purse and run out of the house, but even more, she had to say something. She knew her dad loved her. She knew he was trying to make amends. She also knew she would spend the rest of her life regretting it if she didn’t speak up.

“Dad,” she rasped, “how could you leave us? Didn’t you know how much we needed you?” She mangled the napkin that had been in her lap with both hands. “I needed you. Why?” Of course, the tears gushed forth. “I kept hoping that you would change your mind. You never did. Emily was gone, and Mom was so sad . . .”

“Come here.” He reached out and pulled her into his chest. “I’m right here.”

By the time she managed to drag in a lungful of air, the front of his Oxford-cloth shirt was soaked. The shredded napkin was soaked. She was boneless.

“Daddy, I was alone,” she said.

“I know, baby. I know.” He held one of the unused paper napkins Amy’s mom left on the side table up to her nose. “Blow,” he prompted.

She gave it a try. The napkin was soaked with tears and snot when he pulled it away from her face.

“Ewww. Gross,” she said.

She managed to sit up straight, even though she felt like she’d been wrung out and left to dry. Her father looked a little wrung out, himself. Men of his generation really didn’t cry, but she saw some telltale redness in his eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” He took his glasses off, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He laid the glasses on the side table. “The only answer I have for you is that I thought your mom would be happier if I wasn’t here. We couldn’t talk to each other without fighting, and I did a lot of things wrong.”

Amy wiped her nose again with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“I know you’re mad, and you’re hurt. You should be. There’s something else I want to say, though.” He kissed her forehead. “I loved you before you were born. I’m going to love you till my last breath. I wish I’d been better at showing it and saying so.”

Amy wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “I love you, too.”

Chapter Eleven

T
HE SHOP’S DOORBELL
jingled late on Saturday afternoon, and Matt strolled in. He wore jeans, a Seattle Sounders jersey and scarf, and a confident grin.

“Hey, Fifi. Ready to go?”

“What—what are you talking about?”

Obviously he’d made the date with her, but he hadn’t called. He hadn’t stopped by over the past forty-eight hours to make sure she was fine after their ill-fated dinner date. The flower orders even slowed down over the last couple of days. He and his ghostwriter must have been taking a breather, or maybe he was mad when he found out how much it cost to clean his car’s upholstery. Amy alternated between pining for him and feeling disgust with herself. After all, admitting she was looking forward to the date meant she planned on moving forward with him.