Page 59 of Date Knight (Roll for Romance #2)

Amy

A s much as I hated to admit it, I knew that the key to my survival would be to take a page out of Phil’s playbook and compartmentalise.

I spent the rest of the week after our breakup wallowing, fuelled by a great playlist Jack sent me, and it got to the point where I couldn’t bear to look at myself in the mirror anymore.

Every time I did I saw the pink walls of my childhood bedroom and the matching pink of my skin from where I’d rubbed my eyes raw trying to wipe away my tears.

Tears I was crying over Philip fucking Owen, just like I had when I was a teenager, and up until that night five years ago when I’d decided I wouldn’t let him matter to me anymore.

If I’d done it then, I could do it again, right?

Even if I did struggle to summon the resentment I knew would help me move on.

I definitely didn’t struggle to resent him, however, when I finally had to break the news to Mum and Dad.

I was nervous about telling Dad, as my trial period was part of why Phil and I had entered into this whole ridiculous thing to begin with, but in a rare demonstration of empathy, he just wrapped me in a hug and told me Phil was an idiot.

Mum, on the other hand, I was more worried about.

When Chris and I had broken up, she’d been beside herself for months.

I now suspected that was only half about the breakup and half about me being far away from her whilst I went through it, but still.

By Jack’s account, it had been an overreaction either way.

But as I stood over her in the garden and told her as she harvested tomatoes, she seemed wholly unbothered.

“You two will work things out, I’m sure.”

My brow pinched together, half in a frown and half in a squint as I shielded my eyes from the bright sun.

“No, Mum, you don’t get it. It wasn’t a fight. He broke up with me.”

I had half a mind to tell her we hadn’t even actually been together for most of our supposed relationship, but even now, even after everything Phil had done, I didn’t want to undermine what we’d had. Even then, there had been something.

I watched as Mum leaned over her raised beds, pushing one plant out of the way to get to another. Was it just me, or was she smiling? She was certainly relaxed, anyway, as she plucked a perfectly ripe heirloom tomato from its vine. She was so nonchalant that I couldn’t do anything but laugh.

“How can you be so calm about this?” I asked, crossing my arms, incredulous. “Last year you were tearing up the front garden beds because you were so upset on my behalf.”

“Yes, well, that was rather silly of me, wasn’t it.”

“Sure,” I said, “but aren’t you angry now?” I certainly was– in fact, I was angry enough for both of us.

Mum must have heard the edge in my words, because she finally stopped harvesting. She brushed her dirt-covered hands off on her dungarees and stood.

“Do you want me to be angry?” she asked, her gaze inscrutable behind her sunglasses. “Because if you need to feel justified in your anger, I’ve got a few summer squashes that need pulling. I could put on a real show of it.”

I stared at her open-mouthed, feeling a traitorous heat behind my eyes.

“Do you really not care about this?” I asked, my lip quivering. Mum’s face softened instantly, and she brought a hand up to my face. She pulled off her glasses, and I could see that her own eyes were indeed wide with concern.

“Of course I do, Amy,” she said, and I pressed into her hand, the tears slipping from my eyes and running down my face, no doubt mixing with the dirt on Mum’s fingers and making mud on my cheek. But I didn’t care.

“I care that you’re hurting, darling,” she said.

“But last year, you didn’t have us. I wasn’t upset that you and Chris broke up.

I was upset that I couldn’t be there for you.

That none of us could. I know you had your friends.

But they weren’t good to you. That was clear from the day you moved there. ”

“Was it?” I asked, huffing a laugh. “Because I didn’t know until everything fell apart.”

Mum removed her hand and grasped both of mine in hers. “The point is, I love you. And of course I was sad for you. But more than that, I was scared for you.”

Her voice quivered slightly at this admission, and my own frown deepened.

“But these last few months, especially this summer, you’re like a different person.” She frowned, then shook her head slightly. “No, not a different person. But like a more mature, more confident version of yourself. And I’m not scared for you anymore.”

As annoyed as I was at her lack of reaction, I didn’t disagree with her on one point, at least. I felt more like myself than I had in years, maybe ever. But I did disagree with her on another point. I swallowed and looked down at my bare feet in the grass.

“I’m scared for myself,” I admitted. “I don’t know how much of that confidence was because of things with Phil.”

“Precious little, I’m sure,” she said, tipping my chin up so I met her gaze again.

Her smile wasn’t nonchalant now; it was calming, like a flight attendant catching your eye during turbulence. Don’t worry, that smile said. You’re not about to drop out of the sky.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know you,” she said. “As much as it will pain you to hear it, you and I aren’t that dissimilar. And I can tell that you’re growing into the person you’re destined to become.”

It didn’t pain me, actually, to think of myself as being like Mum.

Maybe it would have before– when I was a teenager, desperate to prove myself.

But I’d seen more of Mum lately. Or at least I’d noticed more.

The passion she had for her work. The care she gave to Ethel and to all of us.

And the lightness she seemed to embody all the time.

I wasn’t sure I’d seen much of that last quality in myself, but I’d found my nurturing side and my passionate side in a way I hadn’t before, and I was proud to come by it honestly.

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, smiling weakly, and I meant it. “But whilst that’s all well and good, Phil still didn’t want me. Not the version of me I was years ago, and not the version I am now.”

Mum pressed her mouth into a line as she considered this, letting a slow breath out through her nose.

“I have a sneaking suspicion that all this has a lot less to do with you and a lot more to do with Ethel. Especially after what happened at family dinner when we brought up the holiday.”

I knew she was right. But that didn’t make it any easier.

“But still…”

I trailed off, not sure what to say. But still, he didn’t want to try? But still, I was part of that area of his life, too? But still, how was I supposed to see him and hear about him if I couldn’t be with him?

“Still, you have us,” Mum finished for me, and I smiled.

“Still, I have you,” I agreed. And I did.

But that didn’t make the Phil-shaped hole in my chest close up any faster.

And eventually, I would need to figure out how I could keep having all of them without being with Phil.

Because as much as I needed them– Mum, Dad, Jack, Morgan, Chloe, all of them– Phil needed them too. Probably even more than I did.

* * *

Dad tried to push back our big meeting in the name of “giving me some time”, but I immediately changed it back in the diary, not wanting to give him an excuse to kick the can down the road.

As hurt as I was, I was also raring to go at work.

So I threw myself into preparing for the big proposal, making up for the time I’d spent wallowing by putting in a full week’s worth of work in just three days.

When the day came, Dad brought Jack, along with his foremen Jerry and Luke, into the house for the meeting.

Dad sat in his usual chair in the lounge, the others on the sofa, all facing the TV so I could deliver my presentation.

Jack smiled encouragingly at me the whole time, but Dad kept his face neutral if a bit stern, and I had to rely on all the work I’d put in over the past three months to win him over.

The plan was straightforward enough. Dad was taking on more and more jobs with increasing amounts of overlap, so I was suggesting a professional license of the project management software I’d been trialling.

The business was also growing financially, and with Dad eyeing retirement and the admin burden bigger than even I could manage, we needed an integrated cash flow, payroll, invoicing, and P&L system.

This would mean paying for software that could handle all of that, as well as paying for the integrations between that and the project management tool so we could automate it.

“Sounds expensive,” Dad said, and I clicked immediately to the next slide I’d prepared, which covered the costs. I tried very hard not to look smug, but I must have failed, because Dad narrowed his eyes at me.

I’d taken the amount we would save by not outsourcing payroll and accounting, then scaled that up to reflect the thirty per cent increase in revenue Dad wanted to achieve in the next three years.

After removing the amount we’d still need for end-of-year filing help, the remaining savings more than covered the cost of the solution I was proposing, as well as my own salary.

It all meant we wouldn’t have to turn down work because of the admin burden, and we wouldn’t have to hire anyone else on the admin team to help us manage it.

This meant Dad could focus on hiring skilled tradespeople instead, and still have profit to spare.

“Or…” I said, interrupting the impressed nodding the foremen were doing. Dad still looked inscrutable, but he wouldn’t for long. This next bit was the least important suggestion for the business, but I was pretty sure it was the most important for him.

“Go on,” he said, nodding.