35. F the Rules
35
F*** the Rules
CARLY
NEW To-do list—February 9 (dictated into voice notes)
Get to Andrew
Ask him—no, scratch that. Beg him to forgive me
Be nice to his mother
A s I smashed the doorbell, I tried to let the melodious chime soothe my nerves, but my heart pounded too fast. I wished I hadn’t had that second cup of coffee at the Waddingworths’ party. I wished I hadn’t let my yoga practice fall off when my work got so busy. I wished someone would answer this fucking door.
I pounded on it. They had to be in there. Audrey prided herself in collecting her powerful, independent children around her every Sunday. Certainly, she’d have used her bypass surgery as an excuse to demand their presence.
Andrew must be here. I’d called him on the drive over, but he hadn’t answered. I deserved it after letting someone as wonderful and kind as he was—someone who wanted me the way he said he did—slip through my fingers.
I lifted my finger to press the bell again, but the door swung open. Natalie stood on the other side, and her face broke into a grin when she saw me.
“You’re here!” She bounced on the toes of her pink Valentino Garavani sandals. She wore a princess-pink minidress I thought was Alexander McQueen, but I hadn’t seen yet in stores. I started to ask her about it, then I remembered why I was there.
“Is your brother here? Andrew, I mean. Not the other one.”
Her grin broadened. “He is, but I’ll warn you, he’s grumpy.” Her expression cooled, and she blocked the opening. “You’re here to make up, right? Not break his heart again?”
“I’m here to apologize. And ask him to take me back.”
“Then come in.” She opened the door wider.
I stepped over the threshold. “Did he say anything about me?” I winced. I was a forty-six-year-old professional, not a twelve-year-old passing MASH notes in class.
“No, he’s been tighter than Mother’s forehead after a Botox treatment, which is unusual because normally, he can’t stop talking about you.” As we neared the dining room, she let out a quiet, high-pitched squeal. “This is so exciting. It’s like a Jane Austen adaptation, but you’re Mr. Knightley, and my brother is Gwyneth Paltrow.”
She threw open the door, and when the four pairs of eyes on the other side of the table met mine, the room went silent.
Audrey presided at one end of the table, wearing a flowing silk tunic. Her lips pursed when she saw me. On her right was her oldest son, his wife, and their two children. Charles anchored the other end, and he gave me a tentative smile. He nudged Andrew, who sat next to him with his back to the door.
Andrew turned, and his expression blanked.
Fair. I’d run out on him while his mother recovered from surgery for the same condition that had killed his dad. I had work to do.
“Carly, I don’t recall inviting you to my home.” Audrey’s voice could’ve produced snow on a July day in Texas.
“I apologize for barging in. These are for you.” I waved the bouquet of yellow roses. When no one moved, I went to the credenza, but the vases were full. I plopped them into the cut crystal water pitcher. “How are you feeling?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Stronger than ever.”
From the lack of makeup on her face and the pallor of her cheeks, I doubted it. But I let her play the lioness protecting her pride. “I’m glad to hear it. Andrew, could I speak with you for a minute?”
“I, um, sure.” He stood.
“Just a minute.” Audrey flung out a hand to stop him. “I have something to say to Carly first.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth. I supposed I deserved whatever Audrey decided to say.
“I was never in favor of your arrangement with my son. He’s a sweet boy?—”
“Mother!” Andrew yelped. “I’m thirty-two years old.”
“Hush, Andrew. Let me speak. It might be the last chance I get to say this.”
“I thought you were stronger than ever,” I said.
“I had a heart attack. I’m day-to-day, dear,” she said smoothly, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I thought an association with you wouldn’t help him. I was wrong. And I’m sorry for what I said at Brad’s reception.”
“What did you say?” The knuckles of Andrew’s clenched fists went white.
I thought she’d stay silent, but Audrey hadn’t achieved her level of social success by playing it safe. “I asked her to break up with you. She refused. But when you two ended things last week, I saw that your feelings for her were real. And since she’s here today, it seems her feelings for you are also real. So, I apologize to both of you for trying to wedge you apart.”
I blinked. “Are you sure you’re all right?” I glanced at Charles. “What kind of medication is she on?”
“Xanax and a blood thinner,” he said.
“It’s got to be the Xanax, right?” I asked.
“Definitely the Xanax,” the older son muttered.
“Don’t speak about me like I’m not here,” Audrey said. “I’m not an invalid. And I didn’t take the Xanax this morning. Now be polite and accept my apology.”
“I accept,” I mumbled.
“I can’t believe you said that,” Andrew burst out. “What gave you the right?—”
“Andrew.” I took a deep breath, hoping he’d do the same. “Her heart.”
“Mother, don’t ever try to control my life again,” he said.
Natalie gasped. “Ooh, Andrew. Way to stand up.”
Audrey shot her youngest daughter a glare that would’ve sliced leather before she turned her attention to Andrew. “Darling, I was trying to help.”
“I accept your apology, but don’t try it again. I’m able to stand on my own.”
Audrey gave a regal nod.
“Now it’s my turn to apologize,” I said, stepping closer to Andrew. His face gave nothing away, so I didn’t touch him. “I’m sorry I got to the hospital so late. You needed me. I never meant to make it seem like my work is more important than you. I’ve hired a wonderful assistant who’s going to help me focus on the creative parts of my work. She takes all my business calls now, so if you decide to take me back, I’ll leave my phone on for you. Even when I’m working.”
“That’s great, huh, Andrew?” Natalie poked him in the hip, but he didn’t move. He only watched me. He was right. I owed him another apology.
“And I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to take the VP position. I want you to be happy. And if that means turning it down?—”
“What?” Audrey barked.
“You didn’t tell her?” I murmured.
He shook his head.
I raised my voice. “You okay, Audrey? Sure you don’t want that Xanax?”
“Positive.” She moved her arms like she’d cross them, winced, and let them drop back to the table.
“I support you, and I’m proud of you,” I said to Andrew. “No matter what you decide to do.”
“Do you love me?” he asked.
“I do.” The emotion welled up inside me, blurring my vision. “I love you, Andrew.”
He reached for my hand and held it. I rubbed warmth into his icy fingers.
“I love you too,” he said.
The curl of his tongue and the brief flick of his teeth against his lip when he said “love” made me shiver. “No more rules,” I said. “Except that we wholeheartedly support each other in whatever we do.”
A tiny smile curled the corner of his mouth. “I like that one. We can do this. Together.”
Turning, he said, “Mother, Charles, I quit my job.”
Murmurs broke out across the table.
“You what?” Audrey’s voice rang out like she hadn’t had heart surgery a little over a week ago.
“I quit my job on Friday,” he repeated, “to work full time on our channel and do math-related school visits. I’m going to be an entrepreneur after all.”
While the murmurs crescendoed, I tugged him closer. “You’re okay with that? Striking out on your own?”
“I won’t be completely on my own. Oliver’s my partner. And you’ll be there too. This way, we can both have flexibility. We’ll take our time off together, whether it’s a weekend or not.”
I squeezed his hand. “I like the sound of that.”
Andrew raised his voice. “Carly and I’ll grab some champagne from the wine cellar.”
Clutching my hand, he guided me from the pandemonium of the dining room to the kitchen. He opened a door and flicked on the lights, then he followed me down an industrial-style staircase into a brick-lined room. It wasn’t huge, but both walls were lined with backlit bottles. A heavy credenza anchored the far wall.
“I didn’t know this was down he?—”
Andrew stopped my words with a ravenous kiss.