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I arch a brow. “She’s? I think you meant to say “Amelia.’”
That old saying, “if looks could kill”, rings true right now. James wants me gone.
“I’d like a minute with my wife,” he snarls.
I try like hell to allow Amelia the opportunity to correct him. But I can’t hold back. “You mean, yourex-wife.”
His jaw clenches. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Enough!” Amelia snaps, completely done with his bullshit. “Gage isn’t going anywhere, so how about you just say what you came here to say, and then leave.”
There’s that steel I keep catching glimpses of.
Casting one last filthy glare my way, James turns to her. “I came to discuss your parents’ party. I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow night.”
“I’ve told youI’m not going with you,” she says, firm enough that even I’d think twice.
He blows right past that clear boundary. “There’s no need for hostility. I’m just trying to honor your parents’ wishes for a united front.”
This guy isn’t here for his daughter. He’s here to rattle Amelia’s cage.
“The reason she can’t go with you,” I say, “is because I’m taking her to the party.”
Within a second of uttering that lie, I’ve got both of them staring at me. James is furious. Amelia, stunned.
She quickly recovers, though, and instead of pandering to his inflated sense of entitlement, she simply says, “I told you we couldn’t go together.”
James stiffens. His jaw ticks. For a second, I think he might argue.
Instead, he smooths his expression and levels her with a disappointed look, the kind meant to shame. “That’s unfortunate. I really thought you’d want to honor your parents on a night that matters to them.”
He gives her one last look that’s cruel enough to bruise without laying a hand on her, and then he’s gone.
After he leaves, the air is thick with the kind of silence men like him leave behind. Men who gaslight like it’s a damn art form.
I study Amelia. “You okay?”
Shoulders back, spine straight, she nods. I see her though. She’s not okay, but she’s holding. “Welcome to the disaster of my life. That’s pretty standard for James.”
Fuck.
It’s clear she doesn’t want to talk about it because she deflects quickly.
Giving me a look that’s the equivalent to a raised brow, she says, “Nice work there, by the way. What happened to never volunteering me again?”
I can’t help the smile tugging at the edge of my mouth. She’s quick. Sharp. And calling me out like it’s a sport. A sport I like more than I should. “I’d say I volunteeredmyself.”
She crosses her arms, and that glint in her eyes? It holds a challenge I want to lose. “Right. You were just showing me mercy again.”
“I knew you’d catch on.”
“You do realize that you now have to take me to a party, don’t you?” There’s an eye roll in there somewhere. I’m certain of it.
“I do.”
She shakes her head as a slow smile spreads across that beautiful face of hers. “No, it’s okay. I’ll just tell him something came up and you couldn’t make it.”
“I’ll take you.”