Page 11 of The One I Love
I won’t.
I’m about to do something stupid again, aren’t I?
Fuck…I am.
I can’t hold back any longer. Maybe it’s the whiskey talking. Maybe it’s knowing that Amelia has only dated—or been married to—losers and assholes. Maybe it’s still thinking about that kiss from seventeen years ago way too often. But I can’t sit by and watch this happen.
Especially now that his hands are starting to drift down lower and lower on her back.
Fuck. That. Shit.
I nearly knock my chair over as I stand up and march to the dance floor. The song ends as soon as I get to Amelia, giving me the perfect opportunity to grab her hand and pull her off the dance floor. I hear her say a quick “Sorry!” as I all but drag her outside.
“Shane?” Amelia asks, clearly confused about what’s going on. “What are you doing?”
My hand tightens on hers as I take us to the terrace. There seems to be a dark corner out of sight from the ballroom. I don’t know if it’s truly private, but it must be better than being in front of every wedding guest who just watched me drag Amelia away like a caveman.
“What the hell, Shane?” she says, pulling her hand away and shaking her arm.
“What were you doing in there?”
Amelia looks at me like I’m crazy, which I might be. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“In there.” I point back toward the reception. “Who were you with?”
“Anthony?”
Why is she asking me like I should know?
“I don’t know. That fucker who was all over you?”
She rolls her eyes at me, which is warranted. “Oh, my God. Yes, his name is Anthony. And he wasn’t all over me.”
“Who is he?”
“Why do you care?”
“Humor me.”
Amelia lets out a frustrated groan. “Anthony is a Fury coach. We met before the ceremony. He’s nice. And polite. And funny. And I thought, you know, because I’m a grown woman, I could dance with a man without being tarred and feathered for it.”
“That was dancing?” I say with a bite. “I didn’t realize you needed to be that close to dance. Who knew?”
Amelia’s eyes are beginning to bulge out of her head. And, because I know her so well, I realize she’s five seconds away from ripping me a new asshole. Fine. I’ll take it. As long as it means she’s away from Coach Grab Ass.
“You’re fucking unbelievable!” She starts pacing back and forth, throwing her hands in the air. “Why do you care? Why can’t you let me live my life? Are you my keeper tonight? Is that why you’ve been staring at me all day? If so, I apologize; I didn’t know I needed to ask permission to dance with a man who I find nice and attractive. Oh, and have I mentioned that what I do in my private life is none of your business?”
“Nice? Attractive? Really, Amelia? Don’t act like you’re interested in this guy. You barely know him.”
“Are you kidding me?” she screams. “I can’t with you. This is always how it is.”
“How what is?”
“This! You. Me. The rest of the idiots we call friends. Ever since my divorce—which wasseven years ago, by the way—whenever I show interest in someone, one of you idiots gets involved and ruins it. Either I get the third degree, or worse, they do. Or you run them off. The others have cooled off over the years, but you? You seem to have made it your personal mission to make sure I die alone.”
I take a few slow breaths as I do my best to push down the words that are threatening to come out. “I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? From what? Dating? The outside world? What is it, Shane? Tell me.” She takes a few deep breaths to calm down, but it doesn’t lower the sound of her voice. “I know you’ve saved me before. And I’ll always be grateful for that. But what are you saving me from now? I’d love to know. Because all I see here is a man, who claims to be my best friend, treating me like I’m a dumb woman who can’t make her own choices.”
