Chapter 9 #3
Then she took a breath and exhaled the words ‘Dear God.’ Seth Young had it all.
He was the complete musician, who had faith and decency and love inside him.
And, of course, his brother was none other than Randy Jonson.
He was a ready-made star and boy was he exactly what she needed for Stellar right now.
The board couldn’t doubt her if she landed someone like Seth Young.
They would nurture him, build him up whilst keeping the rawness and truth of his own sound.
They would pump so much money into promoting him in all the right channels that he’d be printing money for the label in no time.
But he was signed to Sanfia Records. He was signed to her sister. Their family label, though not so much hers any longer since she had given up her directorship and stock holding as a requirement of her contract with Stellar.
‘Urgh,’ she groaned, suddenly feeling another wave of exhaustion and hangover.
She leaned back in her desk chair. She was being so unproductive, she might as well get through the ‘must-do’s for the day and go home, pour herself a hair-of-the-dog and wait for Hunter.
And when he turned up for a screw and to leave, she would tell him he could leave without the screw and not bother coming around again. Ever.
* * *
Andrea had bathed and shaved since arriving home and was sitting on her sofa, wearing a silk dressing gown, with her legs folded beneath her, the Hudson and New York’s skyline her backdrop.
A smooth jazz channel played on her vintage radio.
The wall-mounted fire flickered above its grey pebbles, not putting out real heat but providing ambience.
Andrea held a glass of red wine in one hand and various contracts relating to Stellar that she had been asked to review and sign off on in her lap.
Hunter hadn’t given a specific time that he would come over, but she was fed up with playing her words over and over in her mind.
Whatever shape they took, they needed to have the same end result.
She and Hunter were done. Finito . She would not be the other woman.
She would not wait for her heart to be broken.
And she would not continue lying to her friends and family.
The wine was both medicinal – hangover cure – and Dutch courage. She took another sip and as she did, she considered her image to someone who walked through the door. Her attire and demeanour did not suggest I’m breaking up with you. They suggested Come get me.
‘Yoga pants. I need yoga pants.’
She set her contracts and wine glass down on the coffee table in front of her and stood, but before she had a chance to change, her door buzzer sounded.
With another mouthful of wine, she told Hunter to come up and set about pouring him a glass too.
She could at least soften the blow with the light-headedness of alcohol and, who knew, maybe they could talk afterwards.
Try to establish a platonic relationship again.
Lord knew it would be awkward enough in the office for a while after this.
After one strong rap, she opened the door to her apartment to reveal Hunter – one hand resting on the frame, the other holding his suit jacket across his shoulder.
He was still in his tailored grey slacks and white shirt from the office.
She squeezed her thighs together and reminded herself of the plan.
Hunter took in her silk gown, which she knew she should have changed, and his eyes seemed to darken. ‘Baby,’ he said appreciatively.
Flattery was nice but it didn’t change things.
‘Come in,’ Andrea said, walking to her kitchen counter to retrieve the two glasses of wine.
As she turned to hand a drink to Hunter, he cast his jacket aside and pressed his lips to her neck, groaning against her skin, his tongue gently licking her collarbone.
Oh God, she felt that everywhere he intended. He pulled her against him, digging his fingers into her buttocks and allowing her to feel him against her.
‘Hunter,’ she managed to say hoarsely. ‘Stop. We need to talk.’
He rolled his pelvis against her and moaned his displeasure before he pulled away. ‘I know.’
Andrea was still holding both glasses of wine as he retrieved his jacket from the countertop and reached into the inside pocket. At the sight of a small, rectangular, velvet box, she put the drinks down.
He stood in front of her and opened the lid of the box to reveal a dazzling bracelet that looked to be a continuous row of diamonds and sapphires.
She felt her eyes widen. No one had ever bought her anything like this. It was beautiful, sparkly and, without a shadow of doubt, expensive. ‘Hunter, I…’
He set down the box and unleashed the bracelet. ‘Hold out your wrist.’
She did, still focused solely on the way the gemstones glinted under the soft lights of her apartment.
He fastened the bracelet around her wrist then kissed the palm of her hand. ‘I know last night must have been tough. I hated it, too. I hated that you were put in that situation.’
Last night. Yes. The concert. Rosalie. His wife . ‘Hunter, listen, we can’t keep?—’
‘This gift is to show you how much you mean to me, Andi.’ Oh. ‘I want you to know that I am committed to you. To us.’ Huh. ‘I know that things aren’t… straightforward. But I want to be with you.’ You do? ‘What we have is something special, kiddo.’ It is.
Just like that, what she had thought was going to happen tonight was obliterated.
She dipped her head to compose herself. Hunter raised her chin. ‘I love you, kiddo.’
He loved her? He… loved her?
Every nerve ending in her body tingled as he held her and pressed his mouth to hers. She dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him harder against her. Their tongues entwined as they swallowed the sound of each other’s moans and whimpers.
Love? He loved her? It was a line. Surely, it was a line. Did she love him?
‘God, you’re beautiful,’ he told her, lifting her onto the kitchen counter.
She had spent the day preparing herself for their relationship to end and now, here he was, in her home, expressing his commitment and showing her that what they had physically was not just about his pleasure but hers too.
And he loved her?
He couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
She rewarded his efforts by leading him to her bedroom, letting sex take her out of her head.
* * *
For the first time, Andrea woke under the bright light of the sun shining through her linen curtains and under the weight of Hunter’s arm.
The first thought that came to her was, How is he going to explain this to Loretta?
She was grateful that today brought the weekend. They had a lot to talk about. She was supposed to end things and Hunter had declared his love to her. Was that even real?
She needed to be rational for both of them. She would nip out for coffee and pastries. They could plan their next steps – like how and when to tell people about their relationship. No. Relationship? That was not something she had been looking for.
It would hurt people they cared about. Would he move in? Would they be girlfriend and boyfriend? That was ridiculous. She had never called herself anyone’s girlfriend. By choice.
She lifted Hunter’s arm and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Rosalie. His wife. What would Sofia think of her? Some kind of role model. Her father. What would he say?
Hunter murmured, snored and rolled over until his back was turned to her.
She stared for a moment at the dark hairs that lightly covered his back and shoulders.
She hadn’t noticed them before, but now she thought it was peculiar that the dark colouring was a contrast to his silver hair.
She wondered if his wife had ever had the same consideration.
Urgh, she was driving herself crazy.
She glanced at her bedside clock. 07.59. It was as good a time as any to break her cycle of thought.
After slipping out of the covers, she pulled on a pair of stonewash jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt from her closet. Having found her sneakers and located her purse, she gently closed the apartment door and headed to her favourite bakery, three blocks away.
This was the best time of the week for Andrea – early on a Saturday morning, before shoppers, tourists, dog walkers and families with strollers hit the streets.
When Williamsburg was waking up. The sun had risen but wasn’t yet too hot.
Before cars were noisily filling the air and before the stalls were being set up for Smorasburg market.
She didn’t need to wear tailored clothes or make-up.
She could just be herself, with herself, please herself.
She closed her eyes on the sidewalk when the first scent of fresh bread and pastries reached her nose from the bakery. The only thing that could possibly rival that smell as the best in the world was the scent of fresh coffee being brewed.
She smiled to an elderly man, whose name she didn’t know but whose face she recognised as the one that always took up a seat at a small iron table outside the bakery. As usual, he dipped his head today without speaking.
Stepping inside the corner building, she was immediately thrust into sensory overload. Baskets filled with fresh baguettes, sourdough and bloomers lined the walls. The glass counter was filled with macarons, fresh fruit tarts, vanilla slices, every kind of Danish imaginable.
‘Hey, Andi!’ She smiled to Aliza, who was already reaching for a takeout coffee cup in anticipation. ‘The usual?’
Aliza had been serving Andrea every Saturday morning for the last two years.
Every week, without fail, she smiled and offered a bubbly welcome.
She was only slightly plump, which Andrea thought was nothing short of miraculous, given she worked among such decadence.
The plumpness suited her personality in the most stereotypical of ways and with her cupcake apron tied around her front, everything about Aliza made Andrea envious.
To the naked eye, she had such a straightforward life.
‘Hey, ’Liza. Actually, I’ll take two filter coffees and two almond croissants today, please. Then I’ll take the usual rosemary focaccia and a date and walnut loaf.’
Aliza paused somewhat comically, with the coffee cup in her hand and her jaw loose. Andrea couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her.
‘Not alone then?’ Aliza asked with obvious playfulness.
Andrea smiled. What would it be like to say, Hunter and I are doing this or Hunter and I are doing that ? She hadn’t much considered it before now. Then, Hunter had never so much as hinted that he might feel more for her than a bit of fun on the side.
It sounded odd and, honestly, not like something she could ever imagine herself saying.
Armed with breakfast, she strode toward home with her shoulders back and her chin high.
With coffees balanced on a tray and bread tucked under her arms, she fumbled for her keys in her pocket but before she got them in the lock, the door to her apartment was pulled open.
Hunter stood in front of her, dressed in last night’s clothes. He replaced his shock very quickly with a smile but not quickly enough.
‘I was wondering where you got to,’ he said.
Was he leaving? Really? ‘I went to get breakfast. Were you leaving?’
‘N-no, I saw you coming, I was getting the door.’
He turned his back, not taking anything from her, and led the way to her kitchen.
‘What did you get?’ he asked.
Not quite sure what to make of the situation, she simply told him, ‘Coffee and croissants,’ and set about putting the other items in her bread bin.
He remained standing as he tore off a large chunk of croissant and put it in his mouth, washing it down with coffee, barely chewing and making a sipping sound.
Andrea watched him, a little repulsed. ‘I thought maybe we could have breakfast and, you know, talk about last night.’
He regarded her for silent seconds before he said, ‘You like the jewellery, don’t you?’
‘Of course, the bracelet is beautiful.’
He grinned. ‘Good.’
She sighed. ‘Hunter, last night you told me you love me. Was that just… I mean, did you… Do you mean it?’
He walked around the counter to her on the opposite side and pulled her waist until they were inches apart. ‘I have to go to Europe next week on business. Come with me.’
‘ With you?’
‘ With me, yes.’ He laughed at her again. ‘We could have gelato in St Mark’s Square, bratwurst in Berlin.’
‘That sounds…’ Scary? Odd? Unlikely?
He turned back to the counter and put another chunk of croissant in his mouth, then slurped coffee. With his mouth full, he said, ‘You can clear it at Stellar. Say you’re legitimately scouting for talent in Europe who could make it in the US.’
Andrea scoffed when confronted with her own stupidity. ‘More lies. More hiding. God, I’m such an idiot.’
She walked calmly to her bedroom. Then back to the kitchen, where she placed the black velvet box and its contents that he had given her last night on the counter in front of him.
‘You have no intention of ever telling her about us. You’ve no intention of us ever being together.
Telling me you love me was the oldest trick in the book and I slept with you anyway. ’
‘Now, hey, where has all this come from? We’ve got a good thing going here, kiddo. Why rock the boat?’
‘Hunter, you’re so full of shit. Take your jewellery and get out.’
‘You’re being irrational, Andrea. I have a life, a family. I can’t just throw that away. They depend on me. You… You’re independent. Fine on your own. This works for both of us.’
‘Hunter, I don’t want you to throw anyone away except me. Get out.’
‘Andi.’
‘Get out, Hunter.’
‘Kiddo.’
‘Get the fuck out!’ she screamed.
What in God’s name had she been thinking? To risk Rosalie over this? To risk Hannah and Sofia?
She threw the black box after him and as soon as her apartment door slammed shut, she broke. Her legs gave out and her tears fell. She knew, without doubt, that Hunter would forget about her long before she ever got over what she had done to the people she loved.