Right after that statement, my mother went beyond ballistic. She stressed the situation and how the humiliation would ruin everyone. She even called Amelia’s mother to hurry up so she could help convince us about the divorce. However, after a quick word from her daughter had her turning around to go back home, leaving my very own mother in utter mayhem.
It took my mother a good fifteen minutes worth of screeching colorful names and lecturing about social commitments and wealth before she finally left us in peace and silence, quaking the room with the harsh slam of the door in her wake.
Arms against my chest, I pressed my lips together, speechless. That was the person who had given birth to me. This was beyond hysterical. “That was rude of my mother. I apologize,” I uttered in pure disbelief as I stared at the door, praying that she’d surely decided to leave the hotel instead of some dramatic exit before she came back with the finale.
“She needs to let you go, too…”
The old Amelia would’ve sided with her, screaming profanities and uncaring about anyone else but themselves. Yet, this new version of her remained pragmatic, siding with me for the very first time.
She kept silent for a bit, casually walking towards the back of the sofa, fingers caressing the texture before she thought out loud, “She doesn’t love you. I think she loves the idea of you and what she aspires you to be. I think it’s because she hasn’t accomplished much in life. She gave birth at such a young age and never really found herself… It made her this way. She wants to live through you, becoming something bigger, someone much more important that people could look up to,” she whispered as if the idea had just dawned on her as well. “When she talks about you, it’s as if you’re the only hope she has. I felt bad about that… but my selfishness paved a much bigger opportunity for me, so I took advantage of the situation.”
My entire mind and body tensed as I listened to her speak. Her revelation out of nowhere had staggered me. She had never uttered a damn, bloody thing about basically anything about my life, my family or much of anything unless it involved her or Lucy.
“Blake Knightly…”
Fuck. What did the bastard do now? I noticed that her throat bobbed, as if having a tough time remembering what had happened.
“I’ve been in love with him… even before he realized I existed,” she started to say with a soft sob. “The first time I saw him, he was in Rome visiting his aunt and uncle. My parents and I were invited to this lavish gathering they had, but we never got the opportunity to be introduced—he was busy with this group of people, mostly women—” she wiped a single tear that fell before smiling sadly.
“Even from afar, I knew he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. That whole night, I kept glancing at him, hoping he’d notice me, but he was too busy. I went home with a sad heart, but I knew it probably wasn’t the right time anyway. I believe in soul mates, and my heart chose him.
“A year after that happened, I found him again in Marbella, socializing amongst my friends and family because he was planning on opening a casino and needed everyone’s support and approval. But of course, for me, it was entirely different. I really thought he and I had a chance. Everything was perfect—beautiful—just like I imagined it would be. But it wasn’t a fairytale because Sienna came in the picture and ruined everything for me.”
Delusion at its best, I sadly thought before stating my opinion. “Sienna has always been in the picture, but she was in a relationship with Kyle, and Blake, being the man that he is, respected that and chose to be friends with her instead. It was only a matter of time until he did something. Before things progressed between them, he was already in love with her. I’m almost hundred percent positive he was even in love with her when he was with you.”
“My life’s a tragedy, Toby…” she started to break as tears streamed down her face, “and I don’t think it can ever be fixed.”
“It’s never too late to fix anything. You’re still young, and with the baby on the way, you can start afresh—a new life in every sense of the word.” As I moved towards her, she held out her hand, stopping me from trying to comfort her.
“I started seeing this married guy, thinking stupid things that would make him come back to me. I’m sorry for using you, too. I wanted him to hurt because he loves you, but nothing worked. Nothing…” She shook her head, gazing up to me with tears and quivering lips.
“I paid someone to produce a fake testing for the baby. I hate not knowing who the father is, but I couldn’t blame anyone except me. I made such a fool of myself.” She tapped her palm against her chest. “Look at me now. It’s tragic, isn’t it?” A heartbreaking smile came to her lips. “I only ever fell in love…”
Haunted would be the precise word I would have used to describe her at that moment. One revelation after the other; how had she kept this up for so long? Sure, I had believed she was pining for Knightly and wanted a taste of revenge, however I’d had no notion how deeply rooted her feelings were to him until now. What did one tell the other when both persons involved were utterly and tragically hopeless?
“Amelia—”
“I’m exhausted, Toby.”
As was I. More than I would admit. “I know you are. I do know that.” I motioned my head towards the dining area, hoping that I could entice her to eat something because she hadn’t had anything since the fruits and cream this morning. “Let me order dinner and we can discuss how to build your new life. Hell, we can even consider the thought of relocating you to a different country if it would make you feel better.”
“The last supper.”
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Before a brand new life.”
At least she was riding on the idea. That was a splendid thing.
“Anything in particular you fancy getting a taste of?”
“Get me everything on the menu. I want a tiny piece of everything. I want to savor every morsel,” she enthusiastically supplied as she strode towards the hall. “I’m going for a shower. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure. I’ll do the same.”
Twenty or so minutes later, freshly showered and shaven, the six-cart entourage to our gluttony arrived with flowers and a butler equipped to serve when ready.
A vast selection of tapas, cheeses, three dishes of paella—seafood, chicken and pork—Castilian-style beef rack, chorizo filled with spices, desserts, and other dishes I had not had the pleasure of being acquainted with, filled the entire opulent rectangular dining table. All forty-two inches of it.