right,” Amanda said, lifting her chin even higher. “We’re not kids anymore. There’s no reason why we can’t be friendly.”
Friendly? His entire body was jittering with heat and she thought they could be friends? Not a chance. But he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.
“None at all,” Nathan agreed tightly.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled,” she said.
“Me, too.”
“Oh, yeah,” Hank muttered with a snort. “We can all see that this has worked out fine.”
“Butt out, Hank,” Nathan told him and turned for the door.
“Walk me to my car, Nathan?” Pam blurted and had him stopping for one last look behind him. But instead of seeing the woman headed toward him, his gaze darted straight to Amanda and he felt a surge of heat zap him.
The past might be dead and gone, but whatever hummed between them had just enough life left in it to be annoying.
When Pam threaded her arm through his, Nathan led her out and didn’t bother looking back again.
“That went well,” Amanda told herself as she entered the tiny apartment over the diner that was now home.
All day, she’d been thinking about that brief, all-too-public meeting with Nathan. Which was, she thought grimly, probably exactly what he’d been hoping for. Nathan had always been the kind of man to assume command of any given situation. He was the take-charge type and so it was like him to make sure their first meeting was just the way he wanted it. That’s why he’d come into the diner during the morning bustle—so that there would be so many witnesses to their conversation, neither one of them could really talk.
Honestly, the man hadn’t changed a bit. Still stiff-necked and hardheaded. She’d seen that familiar, stony glint in his eye that morning and known the minute he opened his mouth that nothing between them would be settled. But then, she thought, why would it be?
She dropped onto an overstuffed, floral sofa that was older than she was, and propped her feet on the narrow coffee table in front of her. The romance novel she was currently reading lay beside an old ceramic pitcher filled with daisies and bluebells. Their scent was a soft sigh of summer in the too-warm room and, not for the first time, Amanda wished the apartment boasted more than a thirty-year-old air conditioner with a habit of shutting down every now and then for no particular reason.
The sofa held bright, boldly colored accent pillows and the two chairs in the room were more comfortable to look at than they were for sitting. There were pictures on the walls, a few throw rugs across the scarred wooden floor and the walls were still the dusty sand color Amanda’s mother had preferred.
Folding her arms over her chest, Amanda stared up at the lazily spinning ceiling fan. A tired breeze of air sulkily drifted over her. This little apartment above the diner was like a security blanket. Her parents had lived here when they first married and opened the diner. Then later, they’d rented it out, furnished, to different people over the years. Pam had lived here for a while, then it had been Amanda’s turn while she was in college. Having her own place had given her the chance to find her independence while staying close enough to home to feel safe.
Plus, she and Nathan had met here a lot back in those days. Those memories were imprinted on the tiny apartment, with its outdated, yet cozy furniture. If she tried, Amanda thought she’d be able to hear his voice, whispering to her in the dark.
She didn’t try.
Instead, she concentrated on what he’d had to say that morning. Or rather what he hadn’t said.
“He didn’t want to talk anything through,” she said to the empty room and paused, as if waiting for the shadows to agree with her. “He only wanted to let me know that seeing me again meant nothing. He was trying to lay down the rules. Just like before. He tells you what things will be like, lays out his orders, then steps back, giving you room to follow them.”
Well, he was in for a shock. She didn’t take orders anymore. In fact, looking back at the girl she had once been made her nearly cringe. Back then, she’d been young enough and in love enough, that she had never once argued with Nathan—at least until that last night. When he announced his choice of a movie, she hadn’t said she hated action movies. She’d never told him that she didn’t like going to car shows or that she found fishing to be the most boring activity in the world.
Nope. Instead, Amanda had sat through countless movies where the only storyline revolved around demolition. She’d spent interminably long days watching Nathan fish in local streams and rivers and she didn’t want to think about the hours lost staring at car engines.
Looking back now, Amanda couldn’t believe how completely she’d given herself up to Nathan. Then, he was all she had cared about. All she thought about. And when everything fell apart between them…she’d had no idea what to do with herself.
It had taken a while to find her feet. To find Amanda. But she’d done it and there was no going back now—even if she wanted to, which she so did not.
Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes on the fan blades as if facing down Nathan himself. “I’m all grown up now, Nathan. I’m not going to roll over and speak on command. I don’t need you anymore.”
As her own words rang out in the room, Amanda gave a tight smile. Good words. Now if she could just believe them.
Oh, she didn’t need Nathan like she had then. Like she had needed air. Water. No, now what she needed was to get rid of the memories. To clear Nathan Battle out of her mind and heart once and for all, so she could move on. So she could stop remembering that when things were good between them, they were very good.
What she had to concentrate on, she told herself firmly as she leaped off the couch to pace the confines of the small living area, was the bad parts. The times Nathan had made her crazy. The dictatorial Nathan who had tried to make every decision for her. The man who had insisted they marry because she was pregnant, then the minute that pregnancy was over, had walked away from her so fast, she’d seen nothing but a blur.
That was what she had to remember. The pain of not only losing the baby she’d had such dreams for, but also realizing that the man she loved wasn’t the man she’d thought he was.
If she could just do that, she’d be fine.
She walked to the galley-style kitchen and rummaged in the fridge for some of yesterday’s leftovers. Working with food all day pretty much ensured that she wasn’t hungry enough to cook for herself in the evening. But tonight, pickings were slim. A bowl of the diner’s five-star chili, a few sandwiches and a plate of double-stuffed baked potatoes that hadn’t sold the day before.
None of it looked tempting, but she knew she had to eat. So she grabbed the potatoes—and a bottle of chardonnay—then closed the fridge. She pulled out a cookie sheet, lined the potatoes up on it and put it in the oven. Once the temperature was set, she poured herself a glass of wine and carried it with her to the doll-sized bathroom.
It only took
