Chapter 04
W hat happened with Andrea was a mistake. A stupid, idiotic mistake that I never should have made. Until that inebriated moment of weakness, I’d say I was doing quite good, staying away from her and pretending I don’t feel empty inside. I’ve been suffering for weeks as I watched her slowly get better from afar. I fought against my need to be close to her like a devil, enduring the painful withdrawal in silence and contained agony. But on Friday evening, the desperate and incommensurable yearning won.
I should never have gotten in her car to start with, but knowing she still cared about me tore down the wall I’ve been trying so hard to rebuild since letting her go.
And then it was just us, the only two people in the world it seemed, and I forgot why I needed to keep my distance from her.
Those few moments in her car have tormented me the entire weekend. I’ve relived them countless times—her sighs, her warmth, the way she clung to me… and how she stopped me. Part of me wishes I was drunk enough to forget the expression on her face at that moment, but the image is still so vivid I can close my eyes and see it perfectly. She looked so hurt and distressed, it killed me inside. That was when I realized just how much I messed up.
For her sake, I can’t let that happen again.
But how the fuck am I supposed to stay away from her when she’s been like a magnet for me from the start? I never wanted to get closer to her, never meant to let her in so deeply, or to fall for her as hard as I did. But she was an unstoppable force who crashed into me, an unmovable object, and took me along for the ride of my life.
“Lex?” Shelly calls in a way that makes me realize it’s at least the second time .
“Hm?” I distractedly answer, returning my attention to her and the baby in her arms.
“Do you want to hold her?” she asks.
I gaze at Kevin, standing by her side, and he lays a tender hand on her shoulder. “Of course he does. Maddison is his goddaughter-to-be, after all.”
Before I can answer, he takes the sleeping bundle from his wife’s arms, and I notice that he already seems more comfortable handling her than he did two weeks ago—when their precious girl was born.
I barely have time to get into position before he sets her on my awaiting forearms. “Hold her head, and don’t drop her,” he instructs.
“You do remember I have several nieces and nephews, right?” I ask as I adjust my hold on her, sending him a caustic look.
“One can never be too careful,” he dismisses.
I look down at Maddison, feeling the same kind of warmth I did when I held my sisters’ newborn children. The decision to not have progeny dates back to when I was a teenager, and it hasn’t wavered since. Or it almost hasn’t. Upon visiting Shelly and Kev, mere hours after the birth of little Maddy, I was struck by their state of utter joy despite the visible exhaustion veiling their smiling faces. For the first time, I saw the act of reproduction as something that goes beyond a biological instinct we’re all programmed with.
To my dismay, I felt the irrepressible desire to hold a little wailing creature of my own one day. One who’d have brown eyes, dark, curly hair, and who’d grow to have freckles dusting their cheekbones and nose. One who’d be lovable and extroverted despite having half of my DNA. One who’d be okay, even with me as a father, because they’d have an amazing mother to make up for it.
But that option is long gone, along with the only woman I could ever want any of this with, so I’ve pushed the idea to the back of my head, dismissing it forever.
“Isn’t she the most perfect baby you’ve ever seen?” Kevin asks with wonderment, looking over my shoulder at his newborn girl.
“She’s a beautiful baby,” I say truthfully. My sisters’ children weren’t as good-looking at that age, but I suppose that’s subjective.
“She got her first bath yesterday,” he continues.
That doesn’t sound like such a notable thing to me, but it seems to be a milestone to Kev, so I nod as if proud of her. They’re about to embark on a journey of big firsts for them and Maddison, and I’ll inevitably have to hear it all, so I better get used to it.
A movement at the door draws our attention, and something drops in my chest when I see who’s standing there. Kev left it wide open after pushing the stroller in, and now Andrea stands frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as she takes in the scene. If we hadn’t noticed her, I have a feeling she would’ve slipped away—but it’s too late. Michelle sees her and breaks the tension before it can set.
“Andy, hi!” she greets her with a broad smile.
“Sorry, I—I didn’t mean to interrupt, I wanted to talk to—” She barely offers me a glance, visibly uneasy. “You know what, I’ll come back later.”
“Come meet Maddison!” Kevin offers, waving her in.
She stands there for a moment, considering her options. People are weird when it comes to their children, so she probably feels forced to accept. With a slump of her shoulders, she gives in and steps inside.
I’m tense all over as she walks up to me, her gaze fixed on the newborn to avoid mine. She stops a couple of feet away and awkwardly leans in to better see Maddy’s sleeping face.
“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Andrea says. “Those adorably tiny fingers…”
I’d look down, but my attention belongs only to her. She seems tired, and given how she maintains a safe distance between us, I suppose it’s because of what happened in her car. As I realize she lost sleep over it, the guilt I’ve felt since worsens. I’m a fucking idiot.
When Andrea tentatively looks up to meet my eyes through her lashes, I want to pass on the apology I long to give her. But with Shelly and Kev right there, looking at their daughter over her shoulders, I can’t.
“You made a beautiful baby,” Andrea congratulates as she turns to Michelle. “I’m so sorry, I meant to call when I heard the news, but I have had a lot going on lately.”
“It’s alright, Kevin passed your sweet words along. I’ve been meaning to call you about my friend who gives Korean lessons, the one we talked about, remember? But, well, I’ve had a lot going on, too,” Shelly explains with humor.
Maddison begins to stir and make discontent noises, pulling our focus back to her.
Kev steps in, coming between Andrea and me to maneuver his daughter out of my arms. “I promise, little darling, he feels scary, but you’ll quickly get used to Uncle Lexi’s brooding presence,” he whispers to her, earning a glare from me.
The ghost of a smile dances over Andrea’s lips when I gaze at her again, and for that alone, I forgive my best friend for the jab.
“It’s feeding time again,” Shelly explains with a wince when Kev hands her the baby.
“We’ll leave you two alone,” he says, grabbing the stroller’s handles.
Andrea opens her mouth to protest, but Kev and Shelly are on the move before she can. Part of me also wants to make them stay with us because the second we’re alone, we’ll have to talk about what happened on Friday, and I’m not looking forward to that. How the fuck am I supposed to justify what I did?
“It was a pleasure seeing you, Andy, even if it was too short,” Shelly says as she passes her.
“Likewise. Congratulations again on your beautiful daughter.”
After some more polite pleasantries, they’re out with their daughter and her stroller, and the door closes behind them, isolating Andrea and me in my office.
As if we’re both desperate to delay our talk, we keep our eyes on the closed door for several seconds. The moment is heavy with unease and awkwardness, and I can perceive the tension in her shoulders when I give in first and look at her.
Slowly, as if resigned, she twists to meet my gaze. Yet again, the thick and uncomfortable atmosphere persists, weighing the silence with all the things we wish we could say to one another.
“You wanted—” I start at the same time as she says, “I was wondering—”
We both stop, our efforts killed at once. “Go ahead,” I say with a nod.
She hesitates, her hands fidgeting together in front of her. Mine itch to come together as well, to crack a few knuckles, but I hold back. “I, uh, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
It’s so far from what I expected that my eyebrows come together with surprise. “A favor?”
“Yes, I—I was wondering if you could be the one who makes sure we don’t… get too close again.” Her request breaks my heart in a way that feels like we should both have heard it. “I’d do it myself, but clearly, I don’t know how to stay away from you. God knows I’m trying, but after what happened on Friday, it’s clear I’m not good at it.”
I process her words, doing my best not to show just how much pain they unleash in me. When I decided to let her go, I was convinced she would move on fast. This thing between us was so quick and flammable, like a flash fire, that I told myself there wouldn’t be much of an aftermath. Not for her, at least. She despised me once, so I thought she’d learn to do it again in no time.
But it’s been almost a month now, and here she is, begging me to give her the space she needs to heal.
Because I’m silent for too long, she averts her eyes, her hands still twisting with discomfort. “It should be easy for you since you’re the one who…”
Her words die off, but their intent lingers in the air. She’s right, it should be easier for me, shouldn’t it? But breaking up with her was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and staying away from her… Well, I’m no better at it than she is with me.
“You’re the one who offered me a ride, Andrea. I tried to refuse. Several times,” I remind her.
“Yes, I know. But you’re the one who did the rest.”
“Don’t I get a free pass for a drunken car incident, too?” I ask, reminding her of our first kiss.
She squints her eyes at me, displeased by my answer. The strategy slowly building in my mind doesn’t sound good, but I can’t think of anything else. If she can’t stay away from me, and I can’t stay away from her… then maybe the best thing to do is to make her hate me again.
“If I remember correctly, it wasn’t a free pass because you made it a whole thing. And we also both know it was more than the alcohol. Back then, and on Friday.”
I do my best to keep my face neutral, worried she might see just how much I hate having to do this to her. “I was drunk, tired, and I wanted to fuck, Andrea. Nothing more. You were there, willing and easy, and I—”
“Fuck you!” she stops me with pure outrage. There. This is easier than her pleading looks. “I don’t know what’s your fucking problem, Alexander, but I don’t deserve this. You don’t have to be cruel.”
Already, I want to take it all back, to kneel at her feet and beg her to forgive me for what I implied, for breaking her heart, for ruining what we had… But I’ve been enduring it all for weeks, and deep down, I know it’s better this way. So I stand there and watch as anger and sadness make it hard for her to find her words.
“I’m trying so hard to get over you,” she continues, her voice slightly uneven. “I’ve never had to do this before, so I don’t know how to, but I will get over you, Alexander.”
I can’t tell if she means it as a promise or a threat, but it feels like the latter to me. It’s all I want for her, but the idea of her moving and meeting someone else, someone more deserving, breaks the last piece of my heart that hadn’t shattered yet.
“Maybe I got carried away, and maybe I imagined things that weren’t there, but some of it was real, no matter what you say,” she insists with a dark glare. “We were so happy together, and now…”
My throat is so tight that even if I wanted to say something, I couldn’t. It gets even worse when I notice the shift in her expression. Overwhelming sadness replaces her anger, and her doe eyes fill up with tears.
“I’m trying,” she repeats, her voice cracking. “I’m trying, but I’m not strong enough. It hurts all the time. And I’m confused, and sad, and angry, and I don’t know what to think or what to do… And then, when I’ m finally doing better, you roll in, tell me I’m so ‘fucking beautiful,’ and make me think you still want me. Only to break my heart all over again.”
I can’t do this. I can’t stand there and let her be in pain when all I want to do is wrap her in my embrace and call her a fool for believing that I don’t want her anymore. My hands crave to touch her, to graze the freckled apple of her cheek, to tug her against me, to hold her and tell her everything will be alright…
I told myself she was better off without me, but seeing her now, I’m not sure it’s true anymore. What if she genuinely and utterly loves me in the same way I love her? What if this is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, where no one else will ever compare for both of us?
My mind is still wracked by conflicting thoughts and questions when she begs, “Please, say you’ll stay away, Lex. Promise you will. I can’t keep doing this otherwise.”
My mouth opens, but the many things I want to say at the same time are all jammed in my throat. Yes, I’ll stay away from her because I hate seeing her like this. No, I can’t stay away because there’s no future for me if she’s not in it. Yes, I’ll give her the space she needs to heal from what I did to us. No, I won’t give her an inch because being around her is the only way I feel like I can breathe again.
When several seconds have passed without my answer, something seems to snap within her—like an epiphany, the solution she’s been so desperate to find for weeks.
“Then I quit,” she asserts.
“What?”
“I’m done. I’m moving to California to get a new job.”
“You can’t quit,” I refuse.
“Why? Because I’m a ‘valuable asset?’”
Because if I don’t have glimpses of you anymore, then I’ll have nothing left.
“You can’t quit,” I repeat, unable to find another thing to say.
“Then what do we do about this mess, Lex?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure something out.”
Some of her anger resurfaces as she says, “Maybe we could try to fuck it out of our systems again. It worked so well the last time.”
Her tone drips with sarcasm and self-deprecation, and it hurts to hear our moments together turned into such a tasteless joke.
“That’s what I thought,” she lets out when I fail yet again to find an appropriate answer. “I’ll send my two weeks’ notice to HR this afternoon. I’m done, Lex. I’m really fucking done with this.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she turns around and walks toward the door. My useless fucking brain can’t think of a way to fix this, even though there has to be something I can say to stop her. If only I could get more time. Just a few more seconds…
My feet move before I even make them, and I catch up with her the moment she opens the door. In one swift motion, my hand flattens on the wooden panel and slams it back shut. When she understands I’m right behind her, she tenses from head to toe, eyes widening as she stares at the door.
“Don’t quit,” I breathe out, almost begging. “You can’t lose everything you’ve worked so hard for. Your app, your friends, this job… I can’t let you lose everything because of me.”
It takes her a few seconds to answer, and when she does, she sounds breathless. “I’d rather lose all that than lose myself, Lex.”
I step closer, and she instinctively moves forward to prevent my front from touching her back. “We’ll find a solution, I promise. I’ll… I’ll come less, so you don’t have to see me as much. I’ll work from home.”
“It’s not enough,” she whispers, torn.
“Then I’ll move to the other side of the country. Kev and I have been discussing opening a Kelex branch in New York. I’ll go do that so you can stay.”
She remains silent for a moment, and I wish I could see more than the curve of her cheekbone and the fluttering of her lashes.
“Say you’ll stay,” I plead, coming a little closer. Her breathing has grown irregular in the past few moments, and it hitches right when my chest meets her shoulders. “Please, Andrea.”
When I lean forward to press my forehead to the back of her head, she shivers against me but doesn’t move. She could slither away and set some space between us, but she doesn’t, and I don’t know how to feel about it. She stays in this makeshift embrace that doesn’t feel like one. It’s so much and not enough all at once.
One last time, I tell myself as I fill my lungs with her jasmine scent. One last time before she either leaves forever or I do. But at least if she stays at Kelex, I’ll see her a few times a year instead of never again.
“I hate you so fucking much,” she lets out with the most broken voice I’ve ever heard.
“I know. But it’ll get better soon, I promise. Just say you’ll stay, Andrea.”
She gulps hard enough for me to hear it, and her nod forces me to lift my head and let go of the contact. “I’ll stay,” she agrees. “For now. I’ll stay for now.”
Knowing she isn’t gone yet is enough for me to step back and let her go. She doesn’t turn around or say another thing before twisting the handle and opening the door. I’m just as silent as she steps out and pulls the door behind her.
I have no idea how long I stay there, computing what just happened. None of that went as I expected, but maybe a fresh start is what I need. Even if it’s in New York, which I’ve always hated. But at least I have a sister there, so I won’t be entirely alone.
With a sigh, I return to my desk, occupying my mind with a list of everything I’ll have to take care of to make that happen. Kevin won’t like it, even though we did talk about opening a branch on the East Coast. We never imagined one of us would run it, leaving the other alone in Seattle. But I’ll return for special occasions, like major meetings and parties.
And maybe we can throw even more of the latter, so I have excuses to see her a few times a year. It will be like temporary breaths of oxygen I can look forward to. A way to make my life less gloomy than it’s shaping up to become.
But as long as hers turns into the one she deserves, it’ll be worth it.