Page 9 of Stay Away from Him

Thomas stood, leaned across the table to give Amelia a kiss on the cheek, and then, before Melissa was prepared, he was leaning toward her to do the same.

Melissa wasn’t used to this—her friends back in Montana weren’t the kind to kiss hello and goodbye—and she had a little moment of panic when she wasn’t sure what to do.

Was she supposed to rise from her chair and meet him halfway?

What should she do with her hands? Flustered, she ended up turning toward him just as he was about to kiss her, and he ended up catching the corner of her mouth instead.

She blushed, heat rising fast all the way to the crown of her scalp, and was about to apologize, but he was already out the door as though nothing had happened and they didn’t just accidentally kiss on the lips. Maybe he didn’t even notice.

Melissa took a second to collect herself, and when she looked up, Amelia was looking at her like she knew something Melissa didn’t.

She realized that she actually was a little nervous to be left alone with Amelia.

They barely knew each other, and Amelia cut an air of sophistication that made Melissa feel like a pitiable rube by comparison.

“What is it?” Melissa asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Amelia said. “Only…you two seem to be getting along.”

“Getting along?” Melissa asked, a little irritated at the knowing way Amelia was speaking. “We just met yesterday.”

“I know,” Amelia says. “It’s just—he seems to like you. And you obviously like him.”

“ Obviously , huh?” Melissa expected Amelia to shrink at this, to back off—but she didn’t. Only went on looking at Melissa, long and unblinking.

“Yes,” Amelia said. “Obviously. By the look on your face just now. When he kissed you. And how fluttery you got when he surprised you at the pickup counter.”

Melissa glanced away, tucking strands of hair behind her ears with sharp, angry movements. Whether Amelia liked her or not, Melissa was starting to think she might not like Amelia very much.

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m sure nobody else noticed. Thomas especially. I’m adept at reading people, is all. It’s my job, in a way.”

Melissa tried to recall if Amelia had shared her job the night before. Another detail lost in the flurry of the dinner party.

“I should remember this. What do you do again?”

Amelia reached into a handbag sitting next to her on the bench, then came out with a business card. She handed it across the table.

“ Dr. Amelia Harkness ,” Melissa read aloud. “ Psychiatrist. ” She looked back up. “That’s right, I remember now. Classic displacement. You made Thomas laugh last night by psychoanalyzing the whole table.”

Amelia gave a small nod, and something clicked into place in Melissa’s mind, the woman coming clear to her for the first time.

She could picture Amelia sitting across from a client much like she was sitting across from Melissa right now, hearing them pour out their problems, listening calmly, not giving anything away, gently prodding with questions.

Suddenly she seemed a little less mean, a little less aloof, and a little more—what? Dispassionate? Impartial?

“I probably need someone like you,” Melissa said.

“Why’s that?”

“Lawrence didn’t tell you why I moved into his basement? That wasn’t part of last night’s gossip about me?”

Amelia shook her head. “Nobody said anything to me.”

“Divorce,” Melissa said. “A bad one.”

Amelia’s eyebrows raised a little, but she didn’t betray much of a reaction, and she didn’t press for additional details. Dispassionate , Melissa thought. Impartial.

“And you think you might need someone to talk to about that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. Probably. I don’t even know what I need right now.”

“That’s normal,” Amelia says. “I could give you some names, if you wanted.”

Melissa cocked her head. “Not you?”

“It’s best to see someone you don’t know. We’ve only just met, but…”

A memory from the night before floated into Melissa’s head. That’s why I stopped seeing you . Thomas had said it to Amelia at dinner, and Melissa hadn’t known what he meant at the time.

“You don’t treat people you know?”

Amelia nodded. “It can get a little hazy sometimes. But yes, ethically, it’s best not to. That’s called a dual relationship.”

“So, you and Thomas—you didn’t treat him? Last night, something he said, it made me think… Is that what he meant?”

Something odd passed across Amelia’s face. She pressed her lips together, broke her gaze with Melissa.

“Thomas and I—it’s complicated. We’ve known each other forever.

And I’ve never treated him, exactly. Never charged him for my services, never took him on as an official patient.

But he did come to me for help. When…” She broke off, and her eyes drifted up to Melissa again. “I don’t know what you know.”

“Everything,” Melissa said. “Lawrence told me everything. Last night, after everyone left.”

“Then you must understand. Thomas was—he was close to falling apart. His wife was missing. The girls were beside themselves. And he was being accused of killing Rose. I wasn’t totally comfortable with it, seeing him like that.

Professionally, it brought up…issues. But he didn’t trust anyone else.

And I could see he was hurting. I don’t know.

I’m not proud of it. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. ”

“Of course. Who would I tell?” Melissa was surprised at Amelia’s transformation, seemingly brought on by the turn in the conversation.

One minute she’d been confident, cultivating an air of superiority, as though she was above it all—above Melissa.

But now Amelia had turned nervous, jittery, her hands darting to the plate on the table and ripping the remainder of the pastry into pieces, seemingly just to give her hands something to do.

And she was no longer meeting Melissa’s gaze for more than a fraction of a second at a time before darting her eyes away again.

There must have been more to it than a past breach of professional ethics, but Melissa couldn’t possibly guess what.

And she had a thousand questions she wanted to ask, but no idea where to start.

“Were you ever—” Melissa began, then cut herself off.

“What?”

Melissa hesitated before finishing the sentence. “Together?”

Amelia laughed. Some measure of her confidence, her aloof calm, seemed to return to her. “You mean romantically? Is that what you’re asking?”

“Yes,” Melissa said softly.

She smiled, and now she was fully back—aloof Amelia, superior Amelia, distant and dispassionate Amelia. “Oh, whatever was between Thomas and me is ancient history. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Melissa wanted to believe her, but Amelia’s smile hinted at the opposite of her words—hinted that Amelia would have liked there to be something between them, maybe. That Melissa did have to worry about her, if it was a relationship with Thomas she wanted.

“Although…” Amelia began.

“What?”

Amelia pressed her lips together, sighed through her nose. “Just that you might want to be careful there. Starting anything with Thomas too quickly.”

“Why?” Melissa asked, her stomach suddenly churning. Was this it? Was Amelia about to tell her—or hint, at least—that she thought Thomas really was a murderer? “Is it about…the case? What he was accused of?”

Amelia shook her head—though again, there was something strange and complicated in her eyes. Some hesitation. Some lingering doubt. Not the reflexive dismissal of the accusations that Melissa had expected and hoped to see.

“No,” she said carefully. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

Amelia looked off to the side. “There was a moment. A moment when I believed it might be true. Thomas was acting so strangely, after the accusation. He wasn’t himself.

And I thought…” She blinked, and some trance seemed to break.

“But no. Then everything came out, about the police mishandling the case. And I immediately regretted it. Regretted doubting him. No, I don’t think Thomas killed his wife. ”

“Why, then?” Melissa asked. “Why should I be careful?”

Amelia squinted. “Well, something happened there, didn’t it? Rose is still missing, three years later. And her killer—if she really was killed—is still out there.”

The skin on the back of Melissa’s neck tingled.

She was sure she was imagining it, but she felt for a second as though she was being watched.

Followed. Spied on. She glanced around the coffee shop, but nobody seemed to be looking at her.

She turned back to Amelia, leaned across the table, spoke low.

“You think Thomas’s family is being targeted? That I’d be in danger if I decided to see him?”

“I can’t say that,” Amelia said. “But someone is responsible for whatever happened to Rose. So, who? And why haven’t the police found them yet? There’s also the fact that Thomas is just damaged by what happened. It was a trauma. He’s still recovering. The girls too.”

“Of course. It must have been terrible.”

“And by the sounds of it, you’re recovering as well. Your divorce.”

Something stabbed in Melissa’s chest, and it took her a moment to realize it was anger. She had mentioned her divorce to Amelia, but that didn’t mean Amelia could throw it back in her face as a reason she shouldn’t see Thomas. They barely knew each other. Amelia hadn’t earned the right.

“I care about Thomas,” Amelia continued. “And the girls. I’m their godmother, you know. I want the best for them. I want them to heal. And I’m not sure if this is that opportunity.” She gestured vaguely toward Melissa.

For a moment, Melissa was speechless. She couldn’t be certain she’d actually heard what she heard. Couldn’t believe it. Had Amelia just insulted her?

“I’m confused,” Melissa said, finally. “Are you trying to protect me? Or him?”

Amelia looked her in the eye, and it was impossible for Melissa to read what she saw there.

“Just be careful.”

***

When Melissa got back into her car, she started the engine but then just sat back, feeling a little dizzy.

“What the hell was that?” she muttered to herself under her breath.

She couldn’t get a handle on the conversation she’d just had with Amelia Harkness—Thomas Danver’s next-door neighbor, maybe ex-girlfriend, and unofficial therapist to him in the wake of his wife’s disappearance.

Melissa felt like she’d been ambushed, though technically, Amelia was never anything less than polite, calmly delivering what only might have been veiled insults.

One thing was clear: Amelia wanted Melissa to stay away from Thomas. But why?

Not because she thought he was dangerous, surely.

There had been something unsettled in Amelia’s eyes when she talked about the time after Rose Danver’s disappearance, when charges had been brought against Thomas for her murder—but Amelia ultimately said she believed he was innocent, and she was still friends with him today.

No, if Amelia was trying to keep Melissa away from Thomas, it was for her own reasons.

Selfish reasons. The only thing she could think of was that Amelia wanted him for herself.

She spoke of him being damaged, of needing to heal.

She even implied that she cared deeply for him and his daughters.

And it seemed to Melissa that Amelia wanted to be the one to heal him, to move from being his friend to his lover, from his daughters’ godmother to their mother.

She all but confirmed that she and Thomas dated long ago—perhaps before he met Rose.

Maybe she’d always thought of him as the one who got away.

And ever since, she’d been biding her time, waiting for him to be ready.

Now she wanted to swoop in and claim him as her own—but Melissa was in the way.

It was enough to make Melissa forget all the reasons she’d wanted to wait, to go slow with Thomas.

His wife’s disappearance, the murder charges against him, even Melissa’s own messy divorce—it all fell out of her head, shrunk down to nothing.

All she could think of just then was him : his body, his smile, his eyes.

An admired doctor, a committed father. A good man.

And he wanted her . What the hell was she waiting for?

Just then, she got a text. She glanced at the screen.

It was Thomas.

How was your chat with Amelia? She’s great, isn’t she?

Melissa’s jaw clenched. Yes, she typed back, pretending enthusiasm. I enjoyed talking with her!

That’s great. She’s a really important part of my life.

Melissa spent a bit of time typing out her reply, making sure it was just right.

I can tell. And I want to get to know her better. If she’s important to you, she’s important to me.

She added a heart, then sent the message.

Thank you. That means a lot to me.

That was all Melissa got, and for a second, she feared she’d gone too far, gotten too intimate, made this serious when she should have kept it light.

But then the three dots appeared.

Have you given any thought to that date? I’d love to see you again soon. On purpose, not by accident.

She breathed out.

Yes , she typed back. As soon as possible. When?

When she saw his answer, she gave a little scream of delight.

Why not tonight?