Read Until I See You Again Page 5

hated saying that word; it was obtuse and heavy and felt like she was wearing a giant sidewalk sign that read THE END IS COMING on one side, and I’M A COMPLETE FAILURE on the other.

  “Oh, right, that makes sense.”

  “Yeah.”

  Michael tapped a couple of buttons on his smartphone. “Okay, ready.”

  Amy called out her number.

  “Cool, and now I just need a picture—”

  “What?”

  He snapped a candid shot. “Perfect.”

  “No, wait! You can’t take that picture.”

  “Well, I need to match the number to a photo,” Michael said and turned the phone around so Amy could see the picture.

  “Oh, you can’t use that. I look awful.”

  “Stop …”

  “Take another one.”

  Michael stared into her brown eyes and smiled. “Okay. Fine. If I must.”

  “You must.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready.” Amy sat up straight, inhaled deeply to expand her chest, tilted her head just a little to the right, and looked at the camera, and coincidently at Michael too, with her very best bedroom eyes. Every time she came up in the phone, which she was hoping would be quite often, he would see that look.

  “That’s not fair.”

  Amy shrugged, playing coy.

  “Now Stephanie’s gonna wonder who this attractive woman is on my phone.”

  “Didn’t you two just break up?”

  “Sort of. It’s—”

  “Complicated, right.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you can pose for a picture on my phone.”

  “I’m not sure if I can match that shot and still keep my shirt on.”

  “Do what you think is best.” Amy felt a heat surging in her stomach. The last time she had seen him with his shirt off was when he took her and Tyler to the beach in York. He had made an off-the-cuff promise to take Tyler to the arcade one day, but Amy never expected him to follow through. Marriage had taught her that promises were like pretty little gifts husbands gave to their wives to make them feel better; they were wrapped in glittering paper, but were actually weightless and empty.

  Michael, however, knocked on the door one Friday morning and announced he had taken the day off from work to make due on his promise. The beach, he said, had the best video games around. Amy had said it was completely unnecessary several times, but Michael was adamant. He told Tyler that small promises are just as important as big ones, and then looked at Amy and commented that a man is only as good as his word. The guys took a quick dip, and then they hurried to the arcade, while Amy listened to the waves and enjoyed a book she had wanted to finish for some time. By dusk, Amy calculated that Michael spent close to $200 in the arcade, but he never mentioned anything about the money, and Tyler still talked about that trip.

  As Amy pointed the camera lens of her phone at him in the hotel restaurant, she lingered on his torso and couldn’t help but imagine running her nails through the hair on his chest.

  Michael offered to walk with Amy back to her room, and though Amy was insistent that she was fine, her slurred speech suggested she could use the company. For most men, this would have been a ploy to cross the threshold of a woman’s room, where they would start with light caresses on the small of the woman’s back, but Michael didn’t even reach for her hand. He kept his hands at his side, except to push the floor numbers on the elevator.

  As they stood in the elevator, silent and shoulder-to-shoulder, there was a part of Amy that wished he wasn’t such a gentleman. If he reached over and took her right hand into his own, she would have let him. The thought produced a warm sensation inside her, and she knew if they started to touch, she wouldn’t be able to stop. She wouldn’t want to.

  When they reached her room, they said their good-byes with a strong embrace. Amy inhaled his sweet cologne. A warm scent of vanilla musk filled her nose and throat. She didn’t want to let go.

  Michael promised to call, and soon, and she hoped he would—she truly did.

  Michael closed the door, and when his footsteps were out of earshot, Amy plopped down into the chair next to her bed, laughed, and pulled her hands to her mouth, as if she could catch the joy and save it for another day. Seeing Michael made her realize how much fun life could be and how much she was missing. It had been a good hour since she left that message with Robert, and she hadn’t even thought about calling Tyler. What would her counselor say about that? Amy imagined she would just want to hear about Michael.

  Oh, Michael, she thought. A tingling sensation rolled over her abdomen, and she bit down on her bottom lip.

  Then her phone suddenly started to vibrate. She had a text message:

  Amy, it’s Michael. It was really great seeing you tonight, and I guess I’m not ready for this night to end. I’m about to draw a bubble bath, and room service is bringing a bottle of champagne on ice. If you’re interested, I’ve devised a little counting game for you to find my room number: The first number is the floor button I hit in the elevator. The second number is the number of sips I took for your second question, and the final number is the number of friends I was talking to when you walked up to the bar.

  Hope to see you soon.

  There were no words for what she was feeling, she smiled as her eyes brimmed with tears. Amy had spent so many years trying to make the marriage work, but Robert didn’t want to be married. Amy would have spent the rest of her life doing everything she could to hold that union together, if he had just shown a speck of interest. She, however, could never compete with the glory he received at work; that was his true passion—his real wife—and she had simply been the mistress who got pregnant.

  Stop dwelling on him, she told herself. What you have now, she continued sternly, is an opportunity people only dream of: you have a second chance.

  Amy knocked on the door of room 523.

  “So you had no trouble finding the room.” Michael opened the door and stepped back. He was still wearing his business clothes, except his shirt had more buttons loosed, and his shoes had joined his suit coat by the desk in the room.

  “Did you doubt that I would?”

  “Not for an instant.” Michael sat down at the desk and put on his shoes very slowly and deliberately. “Okay. Well, the tub has been filled; the candles are lit, and the champagne has been poured.”

  “If you need anything else, I’ll be down at the bar.”

  “What are you talking about?” Amy curled her lips inward.

  “It’s your first night here, and it sounds like you’re in for a long week, so I thought I’d let you have my suite for a while to relax and let go of the jet lag.”

  “Stop it.” Amy shook her head. Michael seemed sincere, but there was a glimmer in his eyes.

  “Wait, did you think I was going to stay here? Like, I had lured you into my room to seduce you?”

  Amy tilted her head and gave him a look that said, “you better be staying,” and she followed that up with a quick look that said, “if you didn’t plan on seducing me, then I don’t know why I’m here.”

  “Well, I guess I could stick around.” A confident and happy smile spread across his face that sent a tingling sensation down Amy’s lower back.

  “And if I’m staying, I won’t be needing these.” He haphazardly kicked off his shoes.

  “You’re incorrigible.” Amy moved close to Michael and grasped a handful of his half-tucked-in shirt. She looked up into his eyes and demanded their lips touch.

  Michael placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Amy, there’s something I want you to know.”

  “Okay?”

  “Earlier you mentioned that I suddenly stopped coming by the house, and I wanted you to know why.” He slowly moved his right hand along her shoulder to the side of her neck and brushed her brown hair gently behind her ear.

  Never in her life had she been touched so softly, and her neck ached
for his fingertips to continue.

  “Amy, I stopped because of you,” he said. Then he quickly corrected himself as if he was an actor who had practiced these lines a hundred times; and now that he had a chance to say them in front of the audience, he wanted and needed to make sure every word was right. “Because of us, because of the way I felt for you.”

  Amy’s heart began to thump loudly in her chest, and her breathing quickened.

  “I thought about you all the time: when I woke up in the morning, when I went to bed at night, I would think about how fun you are to be around, and I would think about how Robert just didn’t … he didn’t treat you like a person, more like his personal babysitter, and I hated that. I couldn’t watch it anymore.”

  “So you left.”

  Michael nodded. “I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right. Your family was more important than my feelings, even though I knew Robert didn’t love you the way you needed to be loved.”

  “The way I needed to be loved?”

  “Yes.” He ran the back of his left forefinger down the side of Amy’s chin. “The way you should be loved. You’re a beautiful woman who deserves to be cherished.”

  Amy wasn’t sure if she was still breathing, or if her heart was still beating, but she knew she was alive, because she heard Michael speaking.

  “I want you to know that I will never take you for granted; I will treasure every moment with you.” Michael moved each one of his hands along her shoulders to the space under each earlobe; his palms moved slowly but securely, as if he was a simple beggar offering a precious gift at an altar. “Wanting to be with you and yet