Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ANDI
He wants time to talk…now?
Not when his father tried to blackmail me into handing over the one property that he couldn’t get without me.
Not when he left me at his parents’ house, broke his promise, and walked out like my heart was disposable.
Not when my psychiatric patient photos were splattered all over the news and internet.
Now.
Now that his father’s business is secure again. Now that Sam and Hugh have come to an agreement on the property that was so vitally important just a few short weeks ago. Now that Luke doesn’t have to carry the weight of Megan’s betrayal anymore.
A thought takes root so quietly it almost feels like it belongs there.
Maybe he was in on it from the start. That would explain his reaction that night.
His father gave him his plan…a tidy exit from our relationship and away from me while getting the business salvation and personal redemption he needed.
A reason he could justify to himself.
A story he could tell himself so he wouldn’t have to look me in the eye and admit he didn’t trust me.
Why else would he not ask me a single question?
Why else would he drive off and leave me stranded with the very people who were blackmailing me?
He’s the one who needs to be in the psych ward, damn it.
My anger hits a boiling point, and before I can talk myself out of it, I hit the button for the next floor and step off the elevator.
My feet are moving again, two seconds later, carrying me back up to the sixteenth floor.
I’m going to give Luke exactly one minute of my time, and it won’t be a conversation.
It will be a statement. Closure. The kind you take, not the kind you wait to be handed.
But when the elevator doors open, Luke isn’t there.
Instead, I run smack into his parents.
They stop short, looking startled to see me again so soon.
Linda’s eyes widen like she’s about to say something…
something soft, maybe even apologetic. Sam’s mouth tightens, his expression turning cautious in the way men look when they know they’ve crossed a line but still want the benefit of the doubt.
I don’t give it to them.
I brush past without a word and barely a glance, walking toward Bill’s office while my eyes scan the hall for Luke. I’m intent on finishing this. Now. Completely. But he’s nowhere. No shadow behind a corner. No footsteps coming fast. No voice calling my name.
When I turn back toward the elevator, I’m relieved to see his parents are already gone.
I ride down to the sixth floor to take the bridge to the parking lot, and my phone beeps inside my purse. A text.
Andi…please
My stomach clenches, but the feeling doesn’t soften me. It hardens me.
I type before my heart can interfere.
You and your dad got what you wanted. Stop pretending now and leave me alone.
A second later, another text arrives.
No, Andi, that’s not—
He doesn’t even finish it. My phone rings, and I know exactly what he’s trying to do: finish the sentence out loud so my mind is forced to absorb his voice. So my body has time to remember him. So I’m pushed to feel something other than rage.
Too bad for him.
I decline the call. Then the next. And the next. Every ring feels like pressure being applied to a bruise. I turn my phone off and slide it deep into my purse like I can bury him there.
I'm considering stopping by the cell phone store to change my number, but I’m too drained. I can’t deal with fluorescent lights and small talk right now. I make a mental note to do it later.
When I pull into my driveway, Christina, Tania, and Katie are waiting for me. Thank God they’re in one car. I open both garage doors and tell Christina to pull inside.
If Luke comes by and sees a car here, I know he won’t leave.
I make another mental note to call the real estate agent I’ve been meaning to call, but keep putting off.
My girls don’t ask what happened. They already know what I need. They move around my kitchen like they’ve done it a hundred times, and within minutes, the margarita machine is roaring, and someone has Jimmy Buffett playing like we’re about to vacation our way out of reality.
I give them the short version of my day. The parts I can say out loud. I’m infinitely grateful they don’t need details of the mental hospital to believe me when I say it was all based on a lie. They know me. That’s the whole point.
At some point, Christina turns my phone back on to connect the Bluetooth speaker. Texts pour in. One after another. Notifications of voicemails stack up like bricks.
We ignore them.
We crank the music. We take the margaritas and the hot tub and the laughter, and we build a wall out of it all.
For one night, I don’t have to be strong alone.
Everyone stays over. We’ve done this enough that they have clothes here, and whatever they don’t have, they know they can steal mine. Except my toothbrush.
It feels like college again, when the world was smaller, and problems had edges you could see.
I don’t know what I’d do without them.
By Friday, I’m determined to have a normal night. Or at least a version of normal that includes alcohol and my friends.
I still haven’t talked to Luke. I still haven’t responded to his daily texts. I still haven’t changed my number. But I have started going back to the gym. I’m not letting him run me off from one of the few places that ever felt like home.
We meet at a small sports bar before heading to the club later.
Tonight is my real birthday celebration.
With my real friends. After my last performance, I left the club without even finding out if I advanced to the finals.
I didn’t care then, but when Mitch texted me that I’m one of five finalists performing next weekend, the excitement hit anyway.
Now I have to decide what song I’m going to sing.
I have an idea. I just haven’t decided how reckless I should be.
The bar is already packed. We’re sharing appetizers when I hear my name on the TV again. I roll my eyes. “I thought my fifteen minutes of fame were over.”
The silence at our table slams down so hard it feels physical. I look up. Christina, Tania, and Katie are staring at the screen. I turn, and to my horror, I realize why my friends are speechless.
They’re showing the youth center.
A social worker I’ve never met is on camera, listing reasons I might be a threat to children. They’re questioning who approved me. They cut to a parent demanding that I be suspended until an investigation is conducted.
I stare at the screen, stunned by how quickly people turn on someone they don’t even know.
They don’t know it’s my money funding that center. They don’t know I’m the one filling those kids’ stomachs, making sure they have supplies, tutoring them, driving them home when their parents don’t show, standing between them and danger when nobody else does.
But suddenly, I’m a monster because a picture exists.
The reporter holds up publications with headlines about the mental hospital, the youth center, and my “attack” on my foster father. Vultures. All of them. Tearing me apart without the first shred of truth.
Innocent until proven guilty doesn’t exist in the real world. It’s guilty until proven innocent… and even then, the stain remains.
I put my face in my hands and breathe until I can see straight. This is not me retreating. I’m not giving up, nor am I caving. I’m refortifying.
I raise my head and look at my girls. “It’s about time to head to the club,” I say, and my tone leaves no room for debate.
At our usual table sit the usual suspects: Shane, Will, Brandon… and Luke. His back is to me. He doesn’t know I’m here yet.
Good.
I walk to the DJ booth and tell him to queue up a song. I’ve had a few drinks. I’m pissed. I’m hurt. And I’m not going to swallow any of it tonight. I’m going to make it audible.
“Just A Fool” is a duet between Christina Aguilera and Blake Shelton. Tonight, I’m singing it solo. And I sing it with every ounce of emotion boiling beneath my calm facade.
The words fit too well. I feel like a fool because I can’t let Luke go, even when I know I should. I feel weak for wanting him to make it right, for even thinking I could forgive him if he could just take this pain away.
Love feels like a cruel joke.
And Luke is in every thought I have, even when I’m trying to carve him out.
After I leave the stage, a friend from the gym stops me and asks me to dance. Another slow song is playing. I step into his embrace and let the normal moment exist for two minutes.
Then Christina taps my arm. Her gaze shifts to someone just over my shoulder. I turn to follow her line of sight.
Oh. Him.
Luke is coming toward me like a bull, head down, rage up.
“Andi,” he barks.
“Yes,” I answer smugly, because if I don’t put sarcasm in my mouth, I’ll put tears there.
His hands clench and flex like he’s holding himself together by sheer force. “I need you to come with me.”
“No.”
He nods as if he understands…until I realize he doesn’t intend to argue because he intends to take.
He steps in, picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and charges toward the front door. People watch like it is entertainment. I scream obscenities like a lunatic…right up until I realize we’re heading outside and there may be cameras.
No. Not tonight.
“Luke, do not walk out that door with me over your shoulder,” I say in my sternest voice. “I’m in the news enough as it is. I don’t need to add any more to it.”
He stops. And I know he hears the words I didn’t say.
Thanks to your family.
He sets me down, but he doesn’t let go. “Then walk with me like a normal person would.”
I sigh, long and heavy, and give him the typical pissed-off female response. “Fine.”