Her Sweetest Mistake (Amelia) novel Chapter 94

Her phone rang, making her sit up immediately. Vanessa. She exhaled, her heart sinking in disappointment, but she still swiped to answer.

“Hey, Vee,” she said, forcing a smile into her tone.

“Cheryl! God, it’s been forever! How’s the new school? Any hot gossip?” Vanessa’s voice was cheerful, but Cheryl could hear the hesitation beneath it.

Cheryl chuckled, twirling a strand of her hair. “It’s fine. Just… different. No one here knows me like you do, though.”

“Aw, I miss you too, babe.” Vanessa sighed. “But it’s good, right? A fresh start?”

“Yeah,” Cheryl murmured, but she wasn’t sure she believed it.

A pause stretched between them before Cheryl found herself blurting out, “How’s your dad?”

The line went quiet for a moment. Cheryl could hear the slight hesitation before Vanessa finally answered, “Oh, you know… busy. He, um, went on a business trip.”

Cheryl’s fingers clenched around her blanket. “Business trip?”

“Yeah,” Vanessa said quickly, too quickly. “You know how he is. Always working.”

Cheryl swallowed, nodding even though Vanessa couldn’t see her. She knew the truth. Vanessa was lying, probably because she was always asking about him, and Vanessa had caught on.

When they ended the call, Cheryl stayed still, staring at the ceiling. The realization hit her with a force she wasn’t prepared for. She missed him. She missed him in a way that made her restless, that made her fingers itch to dial his number despite knowing she wouldn’t get a response.

And the worst part? She had no idea if he missed her just the same.

Determined to move on, she forced herself to say yes when Elliot, a charming guy from her literature class, asked her out. He was sweet, polite, the kind of guy she knew her parents would approve of. But even as she sat across from him at the candlelit restaurant, she felt detached.,

Elliot was talking, but she barely heard a word. Her mind kept drifting back to the way George’s hands had gripped her waist, the way his voice had softened when he called her name, the way he had held her like she was something precious.

It was unfair to Elliot, but she couldn’t help it.

When dinner ended, Elliot offered to drive her home. The silence in the car was deafening but Cheryl forced herself to act normal.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, pulling up in front of her house. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no,” she said quickly, flashing a small smile. “Just tired.”

He hesitated, then leaned in slightly, his hand resting on her knee. “Can I kiss you?”

Cheryl froze.

And suddenly, it wasn’t Elliot’s face in front of her. It was George’s. The warmth of his breath, the intensity of his gaze, the way he had kissed her in his car on the day he dropped her at her house, making her forget everything

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except how much she wanted him.

Her heart pounded, her stomach twisting painfully. She couldn’t do this.

“I–I should go,” she whispered, pulling away.

Elliot frowned but nodded, clearly disappointed. “Goodnight, Cheryl.”

She mumbled a quick goodbye and rushed inside, shutting the door behind her. Her mother was in the living room.

“You have a call,” she said.

Cheryl frowned, confused. “A call?”

Her mom nodded toward the phone on the counter.

Cheryl hesitated, then picked it up, dialing the number back.

The line connected. Silence.

“Hello?” she breathed.

No answer.

She listened, waiting, her heart thundering in her chest. But there was only silence.

Yet, somehow, she already knew who it was.

George lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the cool night breeze hitting the curtains to get to the room. The whiskey bottle on the nightstand was nearly empty, another night, another attempt to drown out the thoughts that refused to leave him alone. But no amount of alcohol could silence the ghost of Cheryl in his mind.

He had called someone tonight. A woman whose name he barely remembered. One of his usual flings from the past, back when he could bury his emotions in the heat of a meaningless night. It had been months since he even considered touching another woman. Months of pushing away every temptation because Cheryl had ruined him for anyone else.

Yet here he was, desperate to erase the ache in his chest.

A soft knock echoed through the quiet house.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly before standing. The woman outside was stunning, dressed in a tight red dress that clung to every curve, her lips curled into a sultry smile. “Hey, stranger,” she purred, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

He let her.

As soon as the door shut, she pressed against him, her hands roaming over his chest, her lips brushing along his jaw. He let his hands settle on her waist, allowed her warmth to seep into him. Maybe this would work. Maybe if he just–Cheryl.

Her scent. Her touch. The way she used to look at him with trust and confidence in him. The way her doe eyes would widen with excitement.

A sharp pang lanced through his chest.

His fingers clenched involuntarily, and the woman moaned, mistaking it for eagerness.

But it wasn’t.

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His stomach twisted violently as images of Cheryl flooded his mind. Her hair, soft and wild beneath his fingertips. Her smile, teasing and warm. Her lips, parted slightly as she had almost kissed him that day at the restaurant, only for reality to yank them apart.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

He couldn’t do this.

Abruptly, he pulled back, stepping away from the woman like she was burning him.

“What the hell?” she snapped, her brows furrowing.

“Leave,” he said, voice rough, strained.

Her mouth parted in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he bit out, raking a hand through his hair. His entire body was tense, frustration crackling under his skin. “Just go.”

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You call me here, get me all worked up, and now you’re acting like some fool?”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

The woman scoffed again before grabbing her purse and striding to the door. “Whatever. You were never that good anyway.”

The door slammed behind her, but George barely heard it.”

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