Chapter 25

Amelia

With barely a wave goodbye, Kent dashes away, quickly swallowed by the crowd. My heart sinks with the feeling of being forgotten, insignificant. I suppose it could have been an emergency, but… Standing, I smooth my dress. "I should head out too," I murmur. There's no more reason for me to be here. I'm not sure there ever was.

"Amelia, please don't go," Cordelia's voice is insistent, and her warm hand on my arm halts my retreat.

"I don't want to interrupt your evening, and your brother seems…preoccupied," I say, trying to mask my disappointment. Tonight was not at all what I had envisioned.

Cordelia's expression turns stormy, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I can't believe he just ran off like that. To chase after an ex, no less!" Her indignation mirrors the twinge of betrayal nudging at my composure.

"Well, they're all just friends now, aren't they?" Have I totally misread this situation?

She nods vigorously, her frustration palpable. "Yes. They've somehow banded together into this…this Kent's Alumni Association." She air quotes with a roll of her eyes. "There's always some crisis or another they need him for. I'll never understand why he feels the need to answer every beck and call."

William, quiet until now, chimes in with a reassuring smile. "Kent's just being a good friend to them. That's all there is to it."

Cordelia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest, the very image of a sister both protective and peeved. "He doesn't see how he's being pulled around. They're all just waiting for him to pick one of them."

I nod, taking in their words, the absurdity of the evening settling over me. A part of me wants to laugh. I stood my ground with Kent's father and got everything about our relationship out in the open, only to be left behind as Kent went off to serve his personal fan club of former flames. But there's nothing funny about the way I feel now.

I swirl the remnants of my drink and meet Cordelia's eyes.

"Your wedding was incredible," I tell them. "And it was so nice to hear about your honeymoon this evening. I wish you the best. And Hawaii was a dream. Thank you for having me."

"Promise we'll see each other again soon?" Cordelia's voice holds hope, but I'm not sure I do.

"Of course," I reply, though the promise tastes bittersweet on my tongue. I'm not sure what to think right now. With a final wave, I excuse myself from the table. Outside, I summon a rideshare on my phone. The vehicle pulls up minutes later, and I slide into the backseat, grateful for the anonymity the darkened interior offers.

As we begin to move, I work to unravel the thread of Kent's peculiar behavior. The incessant texts, the hushed phone calls that drew him away at odd hours—perhaps it all aligns. There's a pattern of distance, emotional barriers as concrete as the skyscrapers we pass.

It dawns on me with unsettling clarity. Kent's exes are not just chapters of his past; they're his shield, his moat. Each call for help is a brick in the wall that keeps everyone else out, keeps everything surface-level. It's not about them; it's about him.

I lean my head against the cool window, watching as my reflection does the same, both of us lost in thought as the city slips by.

"Almost there," the driver announces, perhaps worried I've fallen asleep.

"Thank you," I murmur.

Before long, the familiar fa?ade of my apartment building emerges from the darkness. As I step out of the car, I can't shake the feeling that I'm also stepping out of an illusion, one where I believed Kent could be different, could be more. Maybe it's time to face the reality that's been waiting patiently for my return.

I fumble with the keys at my apartment door, and inside, the silence is jarring. I kick off my heels and stand there for a moment, feeling oddly unmoored. The epiphany hits me harder now, in the solitude of my own space. Kent was like a ghost, slipping through the cracks in my defenses, ephemeral and unnoticed until he was suddenly everywhere, inside walls I'd painstakingly erected over years. I can't believe that happened, and now, this has happened. He was supposed to be just another date, someone to pass the time with, not someone who could actually hurt me. But here I am, skin prickling with the sting of betrayal, heart thudding with the realization that I've come to care more than I should.

"Dammit," I whisper to the empty room, the word a deflated sigh.

I move mechanically to the freezer and pull out the pint of Haagen Dazs chocolate raspberry ice cream. It's supposed to be for emergencies only, but if this isn't an emergency, what is? The seal breaks with a satisfying pop, and I dig in without bothering to find a bowl. Each spoonful is cold comfort, the rich flavors dulling the ache spreading through me.

As the level of ice cream lowers, the truths about my life become uncomfortably clear, rising to the surface like debris after a storm—my mother, caught in her cyclone of bad decisions; my relationship with Kent, built on a foundation of convenience and avoidance rather than substance; my career, which never seems to challenge me the way I once dreamed it would. Finally, the spoon scrapes against the bottom of the carton, echoing in the quiet room.

Tears blur my vision, and I let them fall, mourning the loss of what I thought I had with Kent, the illusion of control over my own heart, and perhaps most of all, the distance between where I am and where I wanted to be.

Exhausted by emotions I hadn't planned on feeling tonight, I crawl into bed still dressed, the sheets cool against my skin. As sleep mercifully tugs at my consciousness, I make a silent vow to end things with Kent. Though he says things I want to hear, I deserve more than what he's able to deliver. I need to take control of the things I can actually manage while so much of my life is up in the air, beyond my reach. It's the only way to reclaim the pieces of myself I've handed over to him.