"I can't believe she's being so childish," Alex said as they walked into the dark house. "I mean, fine. Don't show up to the fireworks. She made her point. But to make it look like we aren't even welcome in our own home? So stupid."
"What do you expect?" Anna said to her brother. "She's immature and just playing one of her stupid games. I bet she's sitting in the living room, just stewing. And I'll also bet that no matter how upset she is, which is dumb, she's still got our bedtime snack ready and waiting."
Every night before the kids went to bed, I made them a snack. Something light, but filling and healthy. Some fruit and cheese and a cup of warm milk, sometimes hot chocolate, just to send them to sleep with full bellies and warm thoughts. Tonight, however, I hadn't made their snack. I hadn't warmed milk for them. I hadn't come home because my now-dead body was at the bottom of the embankment.
Matthew turned on the foyer light as they entered the house.
"Amelia!" he shouted. "Stop this petty game! You couldn't even turn on a light? How childish are you? If I had known I had married a child I wouldn't have had to have children!"
The twins looked at their father.
"You know I don't mean I didn't want you to be born. I'm making a point that I don't need to raise another child when I've raised the two of you already," he explained. They smiled and nodded.
Alex and Anna were the apples of their father's eye. They could do no wrong. When they were young and would fight over a toy, Matthew's instinct was to blame me for not getting each their own toy, and then immediately would go to get the other twin an identical toy. This had ruined entirely the lesson I had been trying to teach them about learning to share with others. All they knew was that if they complained enough, their father would buy them what they wanted, while their mother was the mean one who kept all the fun away from them.
When Alex was close to failing his junior year of high school, Matthew blamed me for not tutoring him enough, or if I wasn't smart enough to help him, then I should hire a tutor who was. Intelligence wasn't my problem. I was quite capable of helping Alex with his homework. Whenever I tried to sit down with him, he would immediately stop listening, talk over me, and insist I didn't know what I was talking about. He refused to listen to me and my explanations of the concepts in his junior law course. He told me I was stupid and knew nothing about the laws.
He didn't notice that I had written the textbook his school used. It was under my maiden name, but that didn't change the fact that that text was mine and I knew those laws inside and out. And Matthew never corrected either of the twins when they told him I was stupid.
Matthew and I had met in college when I was a freshman and pre-law. He was in a business program and some of my pre-law classes overlapped with his business law classes, seeing as us pre-law students would likely wind up working for and with some of the business students as legal representation in their businesses.
Our courtship had been one you'd only read about in fairy tales. The whole 'swept me off my feet' type of love. The 'foot popping' first kiss.
Matthew was handsome. Many of the girls in my class, and his, wanted to date him. I won't lie. I did too. But I knew I was just one of many who was interested in Matthew Davenport.
I didn't pursue him. I didn't throw myself at his feet (not intentionally, anyway). I would say hello to him if our paths crossed on campus, outside of class, or at parties we both attended. I watched from afar as my classmates, and his, vied for his attention. I would smile to myself as I watched some of the tricks and tactics other girls tried to get his attention with. My friends and I often laughed together at some of the antics we had watched our peers put themselves through.
Matthew was a bit of a mystery. Everyone knew he came from a wealthy family. Everyone knew he was expected to take over his family's business after he graduated. And Matthew was a serious student. He did, however, struggle with some of the law classes he had to take, and therefore my professor assigned me as his tutor. As the top student in the business law class, it only made sense.
"I don't get why I have to learn all this when I can just hire you when you become a lawyer and you can deal with all this stuff!" He cried, exasperated, one night during a tutoring session where he was having trouble with two similar concepts with very different results.
"You need to know this because if you're the one running the business, you need to know if the issue will be a detriment or an asset if it becomes a legal issue. This is the type of stuff you don't want to come across in business. You need to be able to recognize the problem before you have to hire a lawyer."
I explained the difference once again.
I tutored Matthew for the entire semester. In return, he often treated my roommates and I to dinner, replaced a couple of pieces of broken furniture and even bought us a new microwave when ours decided it no longer wanted to do its job.
We had never asked for any of it and even tried to decline the microwave.
"Honestly, it's the least I can do. I passed my law final thanks to you, and if I hadn't had you as a tutor, Amelia, I am one hundred percent convinced I would have flunked the whole class. So as a thank you, please accept the microwave," he'd said.
It was a top of the line model that was well outside our price range. But we did accept it, graciously, and invited him over for a movie night where he got to witness the first use of the appliance as we made popcorn.
Matthew was sweet, and kind. And while I admit I had a crush on him, I thought he was out of my league. I was happy enough to consider him a friend.
Fast forward three years, Matthew and I graduated. He completed his studies Cum Laude and I completed my pre-law undergraduate degree Magna Cum Laude. I had law schools vying for my application. Scholarship offers and bursaries were pouring in. My roommates and Matthew all helped me decide where to attend law school.
At the end of the year, before we all had to move out of our dorms or apartments, Matthew and his roommates threw a huge end of year bash off campus. Of course he invited my roommates and me.
"I can't not invite the woman who made business law less of a hellscape!" He said as he handed me the flyer for the party. It was being held in a rather exclusive bar and rumor had it that Matthew had rented out the entire place just for the party. I couldn't say no. I wouldn't have ever been able to get into this bar otherwise.
The night of the party, my roommates and I helped each other get ready. We wanted to look our best though we all came from relatively humble backgrounds. My parents were divorced with my father off in some foreign country with his mistress and my mother making an honest living as a nurse in our local hospital. I had gotten into university on scholarships and had worked as a tutor for some extra cash. My mother still had my brother and sister to support, so I did my best to be as little of a financial burden as possible. Even still, she sent me some money occasionally, just to remind me that she was still in my corner. She told me all the time how proud she was of me, and I thanked her every time for the money she sent, usually trying to save it to either take her out to dinner when I graduated, or to use for something special for all four of us when I did.
Emma, Roberta, Callie, my roommates, and I shared a rideshare to the party. Even the driver was impressed when we pulled up.
"Nice place," he whistled. "So I've heard. How'd you get so lucky to get an invite in here?"
"A friend," I said, sliding out of the car. We thanked the driver and headed to the door.
"Invite?" The bouncer at the door asked.
"Invite? We were only given a flyer. And it didn't say anything about needing to bring it," I said to the large man at the door.
"The flyer was the invite. Everyone knows to bring the flyer. If you don't have it, I can't let you in. University class only."
"We're from the university!" We protested, pulling out our student ID cards.
"You could have had those made at any copy place," the bouncer said, unimpressed.
I blew out a breath in frustration.
"Danny, they're fine," a voice said. "They're with me."
I looked up and there was our knight in shining… Armani? Matthew Davenport in a well tailored suit looking every bit the import/export magnate he was destined to be.
"Apologies, Mr. Davenport," the bouncer said, stepping back. "They didn't have their flyer."
"No worries, good man," Matthew smiled. "You were just doing your job. I appreciate that. We don't want anyone uninvited. But these four are definitely invited. Come on, ladies. Come in."
Matthew grinned at us, the bouncer smiled and we thanked them both as we stepped into the bar.
The place was amazing. The interior looked like we had walked into a bar carved out of a glacier. Glass and lights created the illusion of ice and snow. Everything was bathed in blue light, and everything in the bar—all the tables, counters, chairs, sofas, and furniture—was all white, creating the illusion of a bar literally frozen in ice. It was magnificent.
"It's an open bar, but be mindful, hmm?" Matthew said over the music. I felt his hand lightly on my back. He leaned close to me.
"You clean up quite nicely," he whispered in my ear. I blushed. Throughout school I had dressed in comfortable, casual clothes, preferring loose sweats and jeans over suits, dress pants or skirts. I was there to learn, not for a fashion show.
"As do you, Mr. Davenport," I smiled. Matthew had dressed more casually in school, too. But usually in jeans or slacks, sneakers or loafers and t-shirts or button down shirts. Rarely in shorts or sweats unless he was playing football in the quad with his friends.
"Come to the bar. Let me get you a drink. I've got a signature cocktail," he said, guiding me towards the glass topped 'ice cube' in the middle of the large space.
Matthew indicated to the bartender that he wanted two of his cocktails and a minute later, a blue drink in a martini glass was in front of me.
"To graduation and what lies beyond," Matthew said, his smile making it all the way up to his eyes.
"To the future," I responded.
We clinked glasses and I took a sip of the blue drink.
It was sweet and delicious. It tasted of raspberries and lemon.
"This is good. What's it called?"
"The Amelia," he said, looking me straight in the eyes over the rim of his glass.
I stared at him. He'd named the drink after me?
Matthew led me to a couch in the corner, indicating to the bartender to send over two more in a couple of minutes. He sat me down and sat beside me, putting his arm around my shoulders.
"You intrigue me," he said to me.
"How so?" I asked.
"I know you have a crush on me, my buddy Tyler told me," he smiled at me. I felt my cheeks redden. Tyler was Emma's boyfriend, and no doubt she'd told him.
"But unlike every other girl in this school, you never put on an act. You never act like you're just here to get your MRS," he said. I frowned at him.
"MRS?" I asked, unsure what degree that was.
"Mrs. Davenport. Some - a lot - of girls come to university looking for a husband, not a career. And a lot of the girls in our classes, well, you're not blind and you're not stupid. You've seen how girls act around me. I don't want to come across as narcissistic or selfish. I know I'm not ugly. I know I'm kinda good-looking. I'm lucky in that way, I guess. But the way girls around here throw themselves at people like me. They want my money. My family's money, our status, the things that people in my position are not entitled to, exactly. That sounds gross, but the perks, I guess, of having money.
"I'm not naive, Amelia. I know that in terms of birth, I won a lottery somehow. My parents have done well for themselves, and my grandparents have done well for themselves. I know I'm extremely lucky. I know I grew up in lucky circumstances."
"What does any of that have to do with me?" I asked.
"You don't seem to care one way or the other whether I even look in your direction. And yet, when you were asked to tutor me, you didn't say no," he said.
"Why would I? A fellow student needed help, and I was able to help. So I did," I said.
"And yet, in all that time together, you never once made a move. You stuck to the topics at hand and got me through my exams, and not once did you even hint at, well, anything," he said.
"I'm not sure if you're trying to compliment me or not," I frowned.
My drink was empty, and the bartender had come by with our refills. I took a sip of my second drink.
"Compliment. Entirely. I promise," Matthew said, watching me over his own glass. I looked back at him, not letting him try to intimidate me.
"So, after graduation, I assume you're going to law school," Matthew said, changing the subject.
"Of course," I said. What was the point of being pre-law if I wasn't actually going to go ahead and get a law degree?
"Have you chosen which school yet?" he asked, interested.
"I'm deciding between two. I have another two weeks before I have to put in my final decision," I said.
"What's the criteria you're trying to decide on?" he asked.
"Distance, how much scholarship they're offering and whether they have the law program I want," I replied.
"Why is distance a factor?" Matthew asked.
"I don't want to be too far from home," I replied. "My mom is a single mom and she still has my younger brother and sister at home. I want to be able to go back home and visit, help her out a little bit, and be available if needed."
"Ah. What about your dad? How old are your brother and sister?" Matthew asked.
"My dad left us when I was sixteen. He's off in some other country with his whore," I said, and then slapped my hand over my mouth. Matthew laughed heartily.
"I love an honest woman," he said, joy in his eyes. "So, how old are your siblings?"
"Kieran is fourteen and Alecia is twelve," I said.
"Fun. My brother is twenty, just started university and, according to my father, not doing much. He's basically the spare. My dad planned on handing the business to me, and I've been groomed my whole life to take it over. My brother is a bit more of a free spirit and doesn't really have any direction. Which is too bad, because he's really smart," Matthew said.
I had no response to that. My brother and sister were also pretty smart, but with Kieran just starting high school and Alecia finishing middle school, I didn't have anything with which to compare.
I spent the remainder of the night with Matthew close by. When I went to dance, he joined us. When I went to relax, he took me to his VIP spot and we sat with my roommates and some of his friends.
It wasn't until the night's end that I 'threw myself' at his feet. And I blame the alcohol, one hundred percent.
I had had at least four of Matthew's potent signature cocktails, and I hadn't had much to eat before coming out. Returning to the VIP area, I tripped up the steps and landed on the floor at Matthew's feet.
"Now you throw yourself at me," he laughed as he helped me get up.
"I think now is probably a good time for me to go home," I slurred.
Matthew helped Emma, Roberta, and Callie get me out of the bar and into a car.
"Make sure she drinks some water and maybe give her an Advil before she goes to bed," Matthew told my roommates. I grinned sloppily up at him.
"Thanks, Mr. Davenport, for the wonderful evening," I said, drunkenly. "I just hope I remember it."
Matthew chuckled as he closed the door and the car drove off.
The following morning, I did not feel well at all. My head was pounding, and my tongue felt like I had spent the night licking the lint trap in the dryer. I groaned as the sunlight streamed into my room.
I dragged my sorry butt out of bed, forced myself into a shower and, bleary eyed, wandered into the kitchen. Emma handed me a cup of coffee.
"Had fun last night, did you," she smirked at me. I groaned back.
The doorbell rang just then, which did no wonders for my head. I sat at our kitchen table and put my head in my arms.
"Amelia?" Emma said, her voice confused and delighted. I looked up, and Matthew was standing in our doorway, a grin on his face and several take-out bags in his hands.
"Good morning," he said—way too cheerfully for this time of day, too cheerful for my headache.
"Hi," I groaned.
"I suspected you might be feeling a little under the weather this morning," he smiled, holding up the bags. "So I brought my tried, tested and true hangover cure."
I looked at the bags, oil and grease adorning them.
"Well, I suppose if I have a heart attack from all the grease, I won't have to worry about the hangover," I muttered. Matthew laughed.
I had to admit, though, the greasy food actually did make me feel better.
A few weeks later, we were all heading our separate ways, and I really didn't give Matthew much thought. I returned home for the summer, having chosen which school to attend in the fall.
I worked a summer job at our local library while my siblings enjoyed their summer off and Mom worked as hard as ever.
At the end of August, I left home again for a law school only three hours away. Far enough to need to stay on or around campus, close enough to be home in an emergency, or when I wanted to be.
I focused solely on my studies, not much on the world beyond law school.
Occasionally, I'd hear about Matthew and the Davenport's businesses and successes. But for the most part, it was information on the periphery. My world consisted primarily of law classes, studying, and ensuring Mom was okay.
After graduation, I worked incredibly hard at my articling job, hoping to be hired by the top law firm in the city. I had been snatched up by Hoffman, Givens, and Pratt as a junior law clerk after graduation and was encouraged to stay. I wanted to prove my worth. And I did—to the point that my professors still called me, and one asked me to co-write the law textbook my future son would tell me I knew nothing about.