Chapter 11
In a Box
Andi
The restaurant was perfect. Low lighting, white tablecloths, the kind of place where conversations stayed intimate even when the tables were close together. Gavin had made reservations weeks ago, said he wanted to take me somewhere nice.
I'd worn a jewel toned dress. The one Bridget always said made me look hot. Hair down, makeup just right. I'd felt good walking in on his arm.
And the night had been perfect. Almost six months of dating, and I still got butterflies when he smiled at me across the table like I was the only person in the room.
Gavin shook his head, laughing a little as he set down his wine glass.
"This client wanted a glass floor over his swimming pool.
I had to explain that someone would need to clean the underside almost daily, or it'd just be this cloudy, footprint-smudged mess.
Poor guy looked completely shocked, as if that possibility had never crossed his mind. "
I laughed. "What did he say?"
"He recovered quickly, almost shaking off the shock. Then he said that he was sure his housekeeper could handle it." He shook his head, letting out a soft snort. "Some people have more money than sense."
"I honestly can’t imagine having enough money to not worry about the logistics."
"In reality, from an architecture perspective, I think the logistics are the interesting part." He reached across the table, his fingers finding mine. "The problem-solving. Making something work that shouldn't work on paper."
"Definitely get that. I took apart the espresso machine over the weekend and, as I watched a video on 'how to' I was able to fix something inside it that was holding up the pressure. I felt like I’d run a marathon, I was so excited once I had it all set back up.
The logistics were intimidating at first, but I owned it! "
"You should have told me! I would have come and helped. I make quite the assistant, and I work for very cheap—coffee and kisses are all I ask for."
I smiled, but something tightened in my chest. We had an unspoken agreement that his daytimes were for Charisse and, when time permitted, date nights came with a babysitter. Another piece of his life set apart from us.
"You had Charisse," I said, keeping my voice light.
He smiled. "Yeah, but I could have—"
"No, it's fine. Really." And it was fine. Mostly. Parents had to be careful about introducing significant others to their kids. I got that. Didn't stop me from wanting to be there, anyway.
"Gavin?"
We both looked up. A guy around Gavin's age stood beside our table—business casual, friendly smile, clearly surprised to see him.
"Jake." Gavin stood, shook his hand. "Hey, man. How's it going?"
"Good, good. Just finishing up a client dinner." He glanced at me, curious. "Sorry to interrupt."
"No, it's fine." Gavin gestured toward me. "Jake, this is my friend Andi. Andi, this is Jake. He’s an old college buddy."
I froze. Friend. My friend Andi.
The word landed like a punch to the stomach. I kept smiling, but I felt something in me dim. I shook Jake's hand when he offered it.
"Nice to meet you," I said. I tried to keep my voice sounding normal. Steady. Though I wasn’t sure I succeeded.
"You too." Jake looked between us. "You guys been here before? The lamb is incredible."
"First time," Gavin said. "But I'll keep that in mind."
They chatted about nothing important—some basketball game next week, people I didn't know.
I nodded and smiled on autopilot while the word "friend" kept pulsing through my head like a neon sign.
I might as well have been invisible, sitting there between them, watching their easy male camaraderie that I'd never be part of.
Except Jake glanced at me twice. Quick looks, as if he was checking to see if I was following along. Or maybe checking something else. The second time, his eyes held mine for a beat too long before he looked back at Gavin.
Gavin didn't notice.
"Well, I'll let you guys get back to dinner," Jake finally said. "Good to see you, man. See you soon." He extended his hand to me again, holding it a beat longer than necessary. "Really great meeting you, Andi. Hope we run into each other again."
"Thanks," I managed, pulling my hand back.
He gave a little wave as he walked away. Gavin was already sitting down and grabbing his wine glass, oblivious.
"Sorry about that. He's a good guy. We met back in college, and we still play pickup basketball every couple of weeks. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before."
Nope. No, you have not. "No problem." I took a sip of wine. Tried to taste it. Couldn't.
Six months. We'd been together for about six months. I was his friend, and I’d never even heard of Jake. And clearly, Jake had never heard of me.
"You okay?" Gavin asked. "You seem quiet."
"Yeah. Fine. Just—the wine went down wrong." I smiled. Forced it. "Tell me what you have planned for the next week."
He launched into a description of what was going on at work. I nodded in the right places. Laughed when I was supposed to. Finished my dinner even though it tasted like cardboard.
The rest of the meal blurred together. Dessert. Coffee. The check. All of it happening while that word echoed in my head.
Friend.
When he dropped me off at my apartment, he kissed me goodnight. Long and sweet, his hand cupped my face.
"Tonight was great," he said. "I'm really glad we did this."
"Me too."
"I'll call you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. Sure. Busy day ahead though, so I may not have much time."
I watched him drive away. Climbed the stairs to my apartment. Unlocked the door. Locked it behind me.
And then I just stood there in the dark. Friend. My friend Andi. That’s what I was to him after all this time together. Friend.
I kicked off my heels. Dropped my purse on the couch. Went to the bathroom and washed off my makeup, watching mascara-tinted water swirl down the drain.
In the mirror, I looked tired. Sad. I'd worn the green dress. Done my hair. Felt beautiful walking in on his arm. And he'd introduced me as his friend to someone who actually was his friend.
I changed into pajamas. Got into bed. Stared at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Gavin: Home safe. Thanks for tonight. You looked beautiful. Sweet dreams.
I read it three times. Then put the phone face-down and closed my eyes. But I didn't sleep. After Ryan, I'd promised myself the next person I was with would want me for me, not because I was convenient or almost what they wanted. They would choose me. Always.
The espresso machine hissed, pulling me back to the present. I'd been staring at the same latte for thirty seconds; the foam heart I'd poured already starting to fade at the edges.
"You good?" Marcus asked from the register.
"Yeah. Fine. Tired." I slid the cup across the pickup counter and called the name. "Marianne!"
It was the middle of the week on a beautiful day. The sun beamed through the front windows and, as it was already almost June, it brought with it warmth and it should have come with comfort too. But all I heard was friend.
I hadn’t texted him back last night or this morning. What was I supposed to say? "Hey, have a great night, friend." Or, “It really hurt when you introduced me as your friend last night, given that I’d believed we were in an effing relationship." There really was no right way to answer.
Maybe I was making something out of nothing. Maybe 'friend' was just easier. Simpler. Less complicated than explaining to a someone in passing that we were together.
Except it didn't feel like nothing. It felt like everything.
"Earth to Andi." Marcus waved a hand in front of my face.
"What?"
"I asked if you wanted me to do a coffee run to the warehouse. We're low on the Brazil beans."
"Oh. Yeah. Go ahead."
He grabbed his jacket but paused at the door, studying me with that look that meant he was about to say something I didn't want to hear.
"What?" I said.
"Nothing. You just seem... off today."
"I'm fine."
"Everything good with Gavin?"
I started wiping down the espresso machine even though it was already clean. "Why would this be about Gavin?"
"So you admit there is a 'this' then?"
I scoffed, not really sure how else to respond.
"You know, you get this look. Like you're having an internal back and forth with yourself."
"I don't have a look," I said, my eyes narrowing as I stared him down.
"You definitely have a look." He snorted lightly and shrugged. "Just—" he paused, his fingers drumming against the doorframe. "Look, I'm just going to say it. Gavin cares about you—there’s no doubt about that. But sometimes it seems like maybe you care a little more. That's all."
His words hit harder than they should have. Maybe because they echoed what I'd been thinking all night. All morning.
"Yeah. Okay. Thanks." I knew I was being snippy. Marcus wasn't just an employee; he was a friend. Still, I had also guided him concerning his relationships—though being on the receiving end wasn’t easy. I sighed and looked at him. "I’m sorry. It's just—it's not like that."
"If you say so." He headed for the door, then turned back. "For what it's worth? You deserve someone who's all in. Not someone who keeps you in a separate box."
He left before I could argue. I stood there alone with the sounds of the cafe surrounding me and the weight of words I didn't want to examine too closely.
A separate box. That's exactly what it felt like.
Bridget showed up around noon with sandwiches, which meant even she'd sensed something was off. What? Do I have a sign on my forehead?
"Emergency lunch," she announced, dropping the bag on the counter.
"I didn't call for an emergency."
"Yeah, let's not try to pretend like I don't know you and all that yada yada when I get one-word answers to texts and no pickups to calls. Time wasting." She unwrapped her sandwich. "So. Talk."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Andi."
I sighed. "Fine. I don't really know. I don't know if everything is right with me and Gavin."
"What did he do?"