Chapter Thirty-Three
FURY
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No, I need to do this alone.”
Donna frowned. “Are you sure?”
Amy nodded. “Thank you for everything, Don. You really are the best friend anyone could ask for.”
“Oh, Amy.”
The pair of them hugged in Amy’s driveway sepia-esque dusk light. Donna pecked Amy’s cheek before saying her goodbyes and driving home. Amy waved her goodbye, and once Donna’s taillights had disappeared into the dusk, she headed inside to face her fate.
It was almost six p.m., the usual time for Amy’s Skype sessions with Matthew, but she wasn’t ready. Not just yet. So when she received Matthew’s customary text message of:
Are you ready to Skype?
She replied:
Not yet. Give me half an
hour. x
In that half hour, Amy took an early shower. She held back her tears as the soothing hot water cascaded over her body, and concentrated only on the relief it brought. Her muscles relaxed and her mind cleared itself of all the drama she had created and all the possible consequences it was yet to have on her life.
She then dressed in a pair of her hot pink maternity flannelette pyjamas before crawling into her bed with her laptop. She sat cross-legged in the centre of the bed, her belly forming a mound in front of her, and logged onto Skype.
Matthew was already waiting, his face coming full-screen on Amy’s computer, set before the now familiar setting of a spare bedroom at Jake’s house. He sat at his desk, a large window behind him that looked down onto the city, hundreds of light glittering everywhere. He was miles away, and Amy craved his company. She wanted his arms to wrap around her and hold her together. But he couldn’t, and Amy felt herself fall apart, bursting into tears before either of them could greet the other.
“What’s wrong?” Concern was etched in Matthew’s voice. He then remembered that Amy had attended Scott’s wedding, and amended his question to, “What happened?”
Amy choked on her sobs, unable to look at Matthew. She just felt too guilty.
“Please talk to me, Amy.”
Amy wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked towards the screen apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
“Any of what?” Matthew prompted softly, though there was a slight disapproving tone already – something had gone wrong.
Amy hung her head shamefully. “You’re going to hate me,” she cried. “You were right, Matt – I shouldn’t have gone.”
“Just tell me what happened,” Matthew insisted coldly.
It’s now or never, Amy told herself, and with one last wipe of her tears, she looked at into Matthew’s eyes on her computer screen and confessed, “I kissed him.”
YOU ARE READING
Recovering Amy (Amy, #2)
Romance“You’re mine,” it told her in her dreams, “you don’t deserve happiness”. She would wake up screaming most nights, crying, begging for forgiveness that no one dared to offer her. She was sorry – she didn’t mean for anything quite so terrible to happe...
