Leaving Amy (Amy #2) Read online

  His eyes shifted back to the carpet. I saw a small tear crawl down his cheek and he wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Well let’s just say, the bank has no need to send me a statement anymore.”

  My eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “Wesley! There was fifty thousand in there, last time I saw the statement.”

  “That’s not the half of it. I put that into an account with Violet after I signed for a restaurant, a new car, and a one-year lease on a house in Nevada.”

  I didn’t know how to shut my gaping mouth. In none of my thoughts about wishing Wesley a ping of weekly hurt for cheating did they include him going down in financial ruin. I shook my head like a parent does when their child confesses to spending their last dime on a piece of gum that loses flavor in ten seconds.

  “What are you going to do?”

  He pushed himself back into the cushions of our still shared sofa and spanned his legs wide apart again. “Well, let’s see. I spent the first two weeks she left me in a stupor on the floor in the kitchen. When I finally came to consciousness from my drunkenness, I didn’t have far to grab a box of cereal and eat it. I needed to maintain my strength, you know.” He looked at me briefly, puckered out his lower lip and shook his head up and down. “Then, about week three, I called Jeff and asked to come back to work. Thank God I didn’t completely mess that up. I never checked back in after my medical leave. As far as he thought, I was still recuperating.

  “I saw Margaret in the store a couple months ago. She asked how you were. I said fine and left it like that. I pretended to be running late so she wouldn’t ask anything else. I didn’t want to go there with her. Not in public, at least.”

  I sunk back, matching his broken posture.

  Jeff and Margaret are husband and wife and were dear friends of Wesley’s father and mother. Jeff was an attorney in our dads’ law firm. After our dads died in the plane crash, Jeff became sole owner of the firm and kept Wesley on, hoping one day that Wesley would take his law board exam and take over his dad’s position. Years later, it remained open in the air.

  “Thank goodness. As far as everyone is concerned, I was pretty banged up from the accident and now I’m back to work. It didn’t hurt that Jeff’s been occupied with something personal that’s taken him from work. He’s none the wiser of what’s been going on and I haven’t breathed a word of it to anyone there. I don’t need that right now. At least I took my problems to Nevada and kept them there.”

  I snapped back up on the edge of the sofa frame. “What? Jeff and Margaret still think we’re…that we’re? No one still knows that…” I couldn’t say it. Why was this happening?

  “It turns out it’s the only thing I did right by not saying anything. You wouldn’t believe what he called me into his office yesterday and said, Amy.”

  I waited with bated breath. “What?”

  He pulled himself out of the contour of the comfortable chair. This looked serious as he took a breath before saying whatever it was.

  “He said that there’s a second trust.”

  “Huh?” I heard him; I just wasn’t sure what it meant.

  “It seems that Dad, in his infinite trust that I wouldn’t be a total screw-up, had a trust for my thirtieth birthday. But the contingency was that I had to be married for at least five years to get it. Of course, it also stated that if I was partner in the law practice, more was waiting for me, but I certainly can’t fake that.”

  “We only had four years and we’re getting a divorce. Certainly you can’t fake that, either, Wesley.” I was a bit relieved and saddened at the same time. It was out of my control, but I felt this was his dad’s way of screwing him over from the grave.

  Mr. Whitfield never made it easy for Wesley. He always called him a momma’s boy and that he’d probably end up in an apartment, gaming all day, letting some woman take care of him. The Wesley I knew never gave him any reason to say those terrible things. I wasn’t sure why there was so much animosity between those two.

  “Technically, but this past year, while we’ve been…whatever, counted as our fifth.”

  Lights came on in my brain. This was the reason for Wesley’s visit. The reason he had to stop off and drink himself courage to come over and ask me to lie in order for him to get what was owed to him. What did it matter? As much as I felt betrayed as his wife, I didn’t wish him to suffer for eternity for it. Obviously he needed it now more than ever.

  “What do I have to do? Go and sign a document or something?” I shook my head and let out a sigh, as if it was an inconvenience to do it. But truthfully, it wouldn’t kill me. What would signing a paper cause me? He deserved something bad for cheating on me, but not from his father. And hadn’t Violet already taken care of that mission? He was penniless, in a bad lease, owner of a bad business deal, and now needed some living room furniture to replace all of it I had taken. Oh, and let’s not forget most of the dinner plates, treadmill, and towels and washcloths.

  The tension in his back released and he let out a sigh. “Oh Amy, you don’t mind agreeing we’re still married?”

  “Well, like you said, technically we are. You’ve refused to sign the paperwork making it official.”

  I stood up and grabbed the basket of clothes, carrying them to another chair. I felt this time together had to end soon. Mark would be home any minute. I’d just sign the paper and have Wesley out of my life again. And knowing he was not in financial distress would let me sleep better at nights.

  “Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” He stood up and pulled his pants down that had ridden up on him while sitting. “I can’t believe you’d do this for me. After all that’s happened.”

  “Yeah, well, I can’t see your dad holding this back from you just because we didn’t make it.” I stood in front of the mirror and pulled my hair out of the ponytail. I took out a lip gloss from my purse that was sitting on the floor and glided the pink across my lips. “Did you bring the paper with you or do I need to go to the office to have it notarized? I really hate to speed this up, but I’ve got Mark coming over with dinner. It wouldn’t be cool if you were here when he arrived.” I pursed my lips, trying to talk while applying the color.

  “What are you doing?” He walked closer to me.

  “I’m getting ready.”

  “Ready for what?” He stood against the wall and crossed his arms, looking at me with arched eyebrows.

  “For dinner.”

  “Isn’t he just bringing takeout? You’re not even leaving the apartment, Amy. You never wore lip stuff when we’d eat.”

  I closed the gloss and threw it back in my bag. “Well, you never bought me a restaurant, a new car, and cheated with me on your wife.” I smiled a snotty smile at him and winked. “So, I guess we’re even for not doing things that we used to.”

  “Touché.”

  “Now, give me the paper so I can sign it so you can leave.” I can’t be burdened any longer with your unkempt appearance. It’s not my problem anymore. It’s not my problem anymore. Repeating the mantra helped with my determination to get him out of there.

  “What paper?”

  “Whatever I need to sign to say we’re still married.”

  He scoffed, throwing his head toward the ceiling. “It’s not really a paper.”

  I stopped mid-stride from the living room to the kitchen. “Well, what is it then?”

  He cleared his throat and coughed quietly into his balled fist. His expression changed from at ease to seriousness. “You remember what’s coming up, right?”

  “Wesley, I don’t have the time to play a guessing game. What do I have to do to ensure your money?”

  He rushed to me, clasping his hands in pleading fashion. “Amy, you have to come.”

  I swung around and almost bumped into him. His liquored breath lingered in the clean air around me. “Come where?”

  “It’s my birthday on Friday. You know we always go to the
cabin with Jeff, Margaret, and the others for Thanksgiving. They’re expecting us. And if we don’t go, Jeff will know something is up and he won’t sign over the trust to me.”

  He spoke so fast I had a hard time deciphering what he was saying. All I heard was: if we don’t go. We. We go? Oh, no, no, no. Not me. I couldn’t. I was with Mark. This was not something I could do now. Not ever.

  “You’re going to have to think of something to say then, because I can’t go with you.”

  He grabbed my hands and held them tight to his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body and the erratic beats of his heart. His eyes pierced me right to the core of everything I ever felt for this man. “Amy, I’m on my knees.” He actually dropped to his knees, still squeezing the life from my hands. “I’ll go bankrupt if you don’t.”

  “Stand up, Wesley.” I shook my hands from his grasp and pulled him up. “Surely, I can be sick or something. There has to be another way around this.”

  “There isn’t.” He was now eye level to me and not much air could drift between where we stood apart from each other. I swore his eyes were tearing up. “Just go and I’ll make something up why we have to leave early. All I need you for is Thanksgiving. Then you’ll never have to see me. If you don’t want to.”

  I could’ve melted in those eyes at one time. Several times, actually. I was sad to admit it to myself, but he still had the ability to get me to do anything for him. No matter what a cheating louse he’d been. Because deep down, I knew there was truth to what he’d said. We were already finished, practically before flower-girl arrived in the picture. She just pushed the knife through for the final split.

  “Okay.”

  He let go of my hands and embraced me with a most fierce grip. I felt my air push out from my lungs most forcibly. He hadn’t hugged me that tight in maybe forever. I shoved him slightly away. “I mean, okay, I’ll loan you the money in my trust fund. That way you can get back on your feet and see what your options are.”

  “What?” Tiny lines around his eyes webbed at the realization of what I was offering. “Amy, we’re not talking twenty thousand. I’m in hock for two hundred thousand, or more. I don’t know what I can get for that restaurant. If it’ll even sell. I think I bought into a bad investment.”

  “Why would you go and buy a stupid restaurant, anyway? You wouldn’t even buy me a new mixer. You said the one I had worked just fine.”

  “She’s a chef, Amy. She wanted to start her own restaurant. What can I say? I was stupid.”

  “Yeah, say it a few more times. I like the sound of it.”

  I know that sounds mean, but seriously? I was with the guy practically all my life and he still wouldn’t let me eat French fries in his precious Jeep. And this girl gets a restaurant and a new car? Come on.

  “This trust fund, Amy, is seven hundred thousand dollars.”

  I had to catch myself from falling over. “You mean to tell me your dad has seven hundred thousand in an account and it’s with the stipulation you’re married to get it? How completely absurd.”

  “I’ll give you half, of course. Who knows what I’d get if I’d made partner.” He shook his head. “I can’t think of that.”

  Wesley might be stupid about slut-like extra-marital affairs and moronically buying restaurants. And he might even be stupid about some of the times in our marriage. But I’d have to give it to him for fairness. He would give me half of it if I let him. But I didn’t want it. This was his. And I no longer was a part of that now.

  “No, I don’t want it. It’s yours, Wesley. I’m just sorry your dad was such a terrible man to hold it hostage with conditions.”

  “So, then will you go to Thanksgiving dinner with me at the cabin? Just for dinner? I’ll think up a reason to leave afterwards.”

  What could it hurt? I had plans to go with Mark to his mother’s, but I could tell him and he’d understand. Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t, but this would be the last time for sure. I’d go like every year, smile, and collect Wesley’s trust fund money and be done. With him, with the money, with everything. It would finally be over.

  “Fine. But just for the dinner. We have to come back that evening. I’ll still get to see Mark and he won’t be that upset.”

  I was certain I saw Wesley roll his eyes when I said the part about Mark. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He swung me around in the air.

  When he let me go, he pressed a quick kiss on my cheek. I stood, unable to move. As soon as he backed up, I guess he realized how inappropriate it was. His hands held my hips as he looked me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. Was that wrong to do?”

  I pulled at my shirt and tried to get my wits. “Kind of.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

  He walked toward the door and suddenly I felt bad. He was just happy. I shouldn’t have looked as though he did something wrong. God knows he has no one now. Great! Something new I’d have to worry about.

  “Hey, Wesley. Don’t worry about it. It’s all good. If we can’t be friends after all this time, something’s wrong, I guess.”

  He turned back to look at me before he put his hand on the doorknob. “I hope there never comes a day that we can’t be at least friends, Amy. I’ll call you later and we’ll decide on what time to go.”

  I smiled and waved.

  At least be friends? I should’ve thought about that. What did “at least” mean?

  Chapter Two

  I was still in the identical spot when Mark opened the same door Wesley had just exited. Perhaps I was still mulling over what just happened. Either way, I must not have realized the look on my face.

  “Amy, what’s wrong?”

  Mark set the bag of food down on the ground and came into the room to kiss me. Before he did, he held me by the shoulders and inspected my expression.

  “Was that Wesley I saw walking down the sidewalk? I waved, but he put down his head and kept walking.”

  I snapped out of whatever mood I was in and grabbed Mark, hugging him tightly. I needed to get back to the moment before Wesley walked into the apartment and confused all that I knew was right. I needed to feel Mark and know this is where I belonged. Just because Wesley’s life had changed didn’t mean mine was going to.

  “Baby, what’s wrong?” His chin vibrated on my shoulder as he asked the question.

  “Nothing. And, yes, it was Wesley.” I took a deep breath, knowing I had to tell Mark what I had agreed to do.

  He pulled back and looked at me with his blue bedroom eyes. “He came to see you?”

  “Yeah, he had a favor to ask of me.”

  He turned and threw his coat on the sofa. After picking up the bag of food, he walked toward the kitchen, talking to me over his shoulder. “You asked for the divorce papers first, I hope.”

  I followed him, devising a way to say I had to ditch him for Thanksgiving and instead eat with my soon-to-be ex-husband. Oh my gosh. Soon-to-be ex-husband. It sounded so failure-like in my head. As if there was something wrong with me and now I had to drag around a horrible title for the rest of my life. I was an ex. Well, almost.

  I saw him pull a champagne bottle out of the bag and jerked my head back. “Whoa! What’s the occasion?”

  He set the bottle on the counter and looked at me with heartbreaker eyes and a devilish smile. That always got me into trouble. And dinner hadn’t even begun.

  “You first. Is he signing the papers or what? I mean, what’s the holdup?”

  He pulled open an empty cabinet door, perhaps looking for something to pour the celebratory beverage into. “I packed away the glasses already. I have some paper cups beside the fridge.” I pointed toward the other counter.

  “Okay.” He took the top two from the stack and frowned slightly. “I imagined clinking sounds when I thought of our toast, but I guess paper will do.”

  “Exactly what are you celebrating?”

  He popped the cork and the champagne spewed everywhere. He held it out so it wouldn’t hit his suit pants. I laughed, tryi
ng not to think about the dish towels I had already packed away in a box. All I had left was half a roll of paper towels that I was going to use to wipe everything down before the final inspection.

  Mark licked the side of his hand and poured me a four-ounce amount of the bubbly. After his was poured, he held up his cup and handed me mine. With a smile brighter than a two-hundred-watt bulb, he announced it. “I got a job offer!”

  Before I took a sip, I stopped and looked at him, feeling my eyes expand in size. Who knew I’d go from folding pajamas, to a date with my husband, to a new job for my boyfriend? “Job offer? But you have a job. In fact, you are the semi-new chief resident. Did you apply elsewhere?”

  He drank his portion down like more of a shot than a fluted paper cup of champagne. When the last dribble swept the back of his tongue, he proceeded with the story of the good news. Good news for him, anyway.

  “Well, earlier this year when I was fed up with getting passed over for all the promotions, I reached out to a pal I went to med school with. He heads the department of cardiology in Chicago. I asked if there were any openings in neurology.” He poured himself another cup, although I hadn’t taken my first sip. I was more interested in the meaning behind the whole “I got a job” announcement.

  “At the time there wasn’t, but two weeks ago he called and said something was brewing. He’d heard bits and pieces about a change happening in that department and thought I’d like to know. So I sent him my accreditations.” He took a breath. “This morning he called me and said the head of the department just announced his retirement. It’s rumored it has something to do with a pending malpractice suit, so it’s taking effect pretty immediately.” He swallowed down that cup and wiped his mouth with the hand that still held the bottle.

  I watched him as if he were a show on television. One of those infomercials where there’s a lot of eye-popping, fluid hand gestures, and barely any breaths between amazing facts.

  “I guess because they didn’t think his retirement was so imminent, they hadn’t been looking for a replacement. That’s where my good friend, Russ Williams, came into the story. He told them about me and my success here at General Mercer. Today he called and said they wanted to speak with me tomorrow. And then confided in me that they were only talking to me about the position.”