Page 47 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

“But I was wrong. I fucked up. What can I do to take it back?”

Mom took a deep breath. “As tough as it is, actions have consequences. Sometimes there’s no going back to the way things were. But maybe if you give it a little time, you can make something new.”

Mandy didn’t want anything new, or different. “But I love her.”

“Then give her time.”

“How much time?”

“As much as she needs. All you can do is reach out, and then it’s up to her.”

Reach out. If only it were that simple. Mandy was thousands of miles away. She had already tried to call, but no one answered, even though it was almost impossible that no one was home. And Mandy couldn’t leave a message—not without knowing what Isa could’ve told her family. “What am I supposed to do, email her?” That seemed so impersonal.

“Have you thought about writing her a letter? That way you give her the opportunity to open it when she’s ready.”

A letter seemed like an even worse idea, but Mandy was out of options.

“I love you, sweetheart. Things will get better. I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but they will,” Mom said. “Go make some friends. Perhaps your—what did you call her?—flatmate wants to hang out.”

Mandy had almost forgotten until Mom mentioned Sophie—even if it wasn’t by name. “That’s something else. I should tell you what happened with my hair—”

“Amanda Elizabeth Dean. What did you do?”

Chapter Twenty-Four

July 2013

Fourth of July wasnever one of Mandy’s favorite holidays. It came in the middle of the summer, it was always too hot, there was really never much to do before fireworks went off, and even after that, it was just over. It seemed like a silly reason for people to get together and barbecue. They could’ve done that any day.

This year Mandy was stuck at an event with a bunch of Edmund’s coworkers. They didn’t have to work, and yet they chose to spend the day together talking about work. Yep. Mandy just did not get Fourth of July parties at all.

June gloom had lasted a little longer, and while the sun did its job making Mandy sweat, the haze of the day hadn’t completely burned off yet, giving a little protection from the sun’s rays. The venue was lovely, near the water with a view of the marina, where they would all board a boat later to watch fireworks. Until then, however, a large fountain sat in the middle of the courtyard and, with an occasional breeze, blew cool dropletsin Mandy’s direction. If it wouldn’t have elicited stares, she considered for a moment taking off her heels and soaking her feet. She couldn’t believe she allowed Edmund to talk her into such footwear to begin with.

“They make your legs look amazing,” he had said that morning when Mandy was getting dressed. It felt as though she hadn’t seen him for weeks, with his late hours at the office and early mornings in the gym, so the compliment hit much harder than it normally might have. “Plus, I need to make a good impression, and you’re an extension of me.” And then he kissed her neck in that special place that made her knees weak, so she complied with his request.

Now, as she leaned against a high-top table under a billowing blue canopy, she regretted that decision. WherewasEdmund? He had gone to get them drinks a while ago and hadn’t come back yet. She didn’t want to leave and miss him, and she didn’t really know anyone well enough to feel comfortable wandering around on her own. Even in her summer dress, Mandy felt woefully underdressed. Most of the women donned either linen pantsuits or pencil skirts. It was Fourth of July, and a party, and it was like a million degrees out, but only Mandy seemed to be uncomfortably aware of each of these factors.

“Who schedules a work party on a holiday?” A man who didn’t get thedress-much-too-formally-for-an-outdoor-summer-eventmemo sidled up to the high-top Mandy leaned on and set his sweating beer can down. “Oh, sorry. Do you mind?” He gestured to the table.

“No. It’s fine.” Mandy shifted from one foot to the other.

“You don’t work for Hartsfield Baldwin, do you?” the man asked. His tan skin glistened in the summer sun. His khakishorts and light blue polo looked freshly pressed. And he was tall, taller than Edmund, but just as fit. Likely a swimmer, with the way his body narrowed at his hips, but he was broad across the shoulders.

“I don’t,” Mandy confirmed.

“Yeah, you look way too normal…I mean that in a good way. Like down to earth, not…” As if on cue, a trio walked past the table, two men and a woman wearing navy suits. “I’m sweating my balls off in this. Sorry.” He pushed his sun-lightened brown hair off his forehead.

Mandy chuckled. “It’s fine. I’m sweating my tits off.”

“Exactly.” The man raised his beer to cheers with Mandy. “No drink?”

“I was waiting—”

“Excuse me.” The man raised his arm and a waiter scurried over. “We need some cold drinks over here. Can you help us?”

“Of course. What can I get for you?” the waiter, who looked just as uncomfortable in black slacks and a white button-up, asked. Did Hartsfield Baldwin ask for them to dress so formally, or was that their normal uniform?

The man turned to Mandy, and then so did the waiter. What the hell. It was a party, after all. “Piña colada.”

---