Amelia’s POV
“Still not going,” I mutter as I pour hot water over my usual peppermint tea bag. Watching silently as it clouds the mug with the heat, with curls of steam fogging my vision.
I fold the dish towel in front of me for the third time, right after a quick sip. Not because it needs it, but because I need something, anything to do with my hands. Other than letting Eric’s words about moving to New York flood my consciousness.
The phone on the counter buzzes again.
I look closely, my stomach tightening at the realization of who it is. Eric.
His name lights up the screen of my phone like a countdown.
As expected, the text reads. “Amelia, you can't keep holding back,”
He’s right. I know that. Doesn't mean I care.
I stare at my phone as it vibrates across the counter. Again, sa
