Chapter 48
Andie stares at the divorce papers I brought with me, and time stops.
She sniffs and swipes a tear away from her eye. “I don’t want your money, Kit.”
Shit. I swallow. She doesn’t want any piece of me, not even something so impersonal as a check from my accountant. This isn’t how this is supposed to go. We’ve barely said two words to each other, and I’m already fucking it up.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “We never talked about decision day, and I—”
“That was your choice.” Her hand curls into a fist at her side. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, then says, “Kit, I … I’ve missed you.”
Her voice breaks, and it nearly bowls me over.
She doesn’t give me any time to recover, dropping her hands to her sides and holding them open, palms facing out in a gesture of surrender. “I’m sorry for how I treated you on the show.”
I clench my jaw, holding my breath. Afraid of what’s happening.
Her eyes are open and honest and glassy with tears as she meets mine. “You were so kind to me, making sure I was taken care of in ways I haven’t even thought of. And I didn’t appreciate any of it. I’m sorry.”
“Andie.” Her name is a gentle plea coming from my lips. She shouldn’t be sorry. I was the one who left.
“You said you couldn’t be the man I wanted.” She speaks a little louder, more sure of herself. “I made you believe that. And you’re so goddamn selfless, you left. So I could get what I needed.”
The words claw up my throat, desperate for her to hear them. “Please, I—”
“I never got to tell you,” she says, voice wavering. She clenches her jaw and looks me in the eye, so I know she means what comes next. “You made me so happy every day we were together. Even when we were fighting. You were always on my side, fighting for me, not against me, and I’ve never had that. I didn’t know how to accept love so selfless, so I let you think I didn’t need it.”
The backs of my eyes grow hot, tears forming.
“I love you, Kit.” Her voice breaks again, and she looks away. “I want you to live a life that makes you happy, and if that doesn’t include me, I—”
“Andie.” I shake my head.
“No, it’s fine.” She sniffs, reaching for the divorce papers. “I’ll just … make sure everything’s in order and let you go.”
I stand frozen in time as she begins thumbing through the document on the table. Her hands shake with each turn of the page, and my heart sinks a little lower. I’m not sure how we got here, her thinking I actually want to leave.
Suddenly, she stops, her eyes laser focused on the page. Her lips twist into a frown, and she frantically flips a few more pages. She stops once more, this time letting out a gasp.
“You didn’t sign,” she whispers.
I run a hand through my hair and take the plunge. “Of course I didn’t sign.”
Her hands tremble. She lets go of the divorce papers and presses her palms to the tabletop, bracing for impact. “Why not?”
“Since the day we got stuck in the front row in that damn art class, you’ve been it for me. I didn’t want to leave back then, and it killed me to walk away on decision day. The only way I’ll sign those papers is if you tell me—right now—that’s what you really want.”
Her whisper is nearly swallowed by the distance between us. “What?”
“I never told you much about my life before I met you, and that’s my fault. But I need you to know that I have loved you in the only way I knew how.” My voice breaks, tears threatening to spill over. I bury the heels of my hands in my eye sockets and take a deep breath. “It wasn’t until marrying you and learning you all over again that I finally understood that what I thought love was … was all wrong. I thought you needed some fairy-tale perfect prince to solve your problems and make sure you never knew what it was like to not have something you wanted.”
“No.” She shakes her head, new tears forming in her eyes. She steps closer, close enough to slide her hands down my lapels. “I don’t need you to solve my problems for me.”
“I know that now,” I whisper. My hands are shaking at my sides, and I don’t know what to do with them. I’m afraid to touch her in case she disappears like a mirage. “You needed one thing from me—you needed me to stay. When we were fighting, looking at the end of everything we built, you needed me to show you I would always be there. And I left. Again. Worse—I sent you away.”
She’s nodding as her chin quivers.
“I’m sorry, Andie.” My voice shatters, and it’s all I can do to reach for her. “I’m so sorry I left. I love you so much; I couldn’t stand to think I failed you.” I wrap my arms around her waist and crush her into me. She buries her face in my chest and sobs. Through my own tears, heart aching, I say, “I know I broke your trust. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I have loved every single day we spent together. Even when we were fucking it up.”
One of her sobs comes out as a laugh against my chest.
“Let’s start over.” I stroke her hair. “If you still don’t want me to invest in your company, we can sign the divorce papers and get you the money. Then let’s … date. Let’s be together like normal people. I found a firm in Atlanta to work for, and I found a house in Decatur I’d like to get your opinion on. I’m not going anywhere. I want to date you for as long as it takes to build that trust back, because I love you and I want you to know I’m here. I’m always going to be here, no matter how rough this gets. Just … will you be my girlfriend again, Andie?”
She shakes her head against my chest, curling her fingers around my lapels. My heart breaks all over again. She uses her fists to put some distance between us, then gives my lapels one final tug. Her answer is quiet, but final. “No.”
Her lips pull into a sorrowful frown as her eyes wander over me. It feels like she’s memorizing me before saying goodbye. I can’t breathe for the pain of it.
“I don’t want your money, and I don’t want to be your girlfriend.” She swallows after she says it, like it was bitter on her tongue.
My hands fall away from her body, preparing to let her walk out of here, because there’s no world in which I keep her.
“After all this”—she gestures weakly to the walls of the room—“there’s only one thing I want from you.” She takes a step to the side so she can scoop the divorce papers off the table.
“What do you need me to do?” I ask, terrified her answer to that question is go. I’ll give her any goddamn thing she wants, but I’m not sure I can leave on my own volition. My feet are rooted to the spot, and I’m suspended in time.
She holds the divorce papers between us. I swallow, unable to stop my racing heart. Her whisper is a gunshot in the silence.
“Stay.”
My lungs seize, and I’m afraid to break the fragile quiet between us in this room.
Her eyes search mine for the longest minute of my life. She’s the one to break the silence with a trembling plea. “Kit, just … stay. Be my husband. Let me be your wife. We have been downright awful at this marriage thing, but I don’t want to start over. I love what we have, and I wouldn’t change any of it. So … stay. Please.”
I blink, unable to tell if I’m hallucinating. Andie is asking me to stay married to her? After I failed her over and over, she still wants … me?
She chose me.
“Kit,” she whispers, shaking the papers between us. “Say something.”
I let out the air in my lungs and say with a laugh, “My mom is going to be so insufferable when she finds out she was right.”
“About what?”
“You.”
She tilts her head in question. “What about me?”
Like those words broke the space-time continuum, I startle into motion. I take the papers from her and toss them to the side haphazardly, closing the space between us as she gasps. She melts into me as I pull her so close I can feel her heartbeat in tandem with mine.
“Burn that damn document. You’re perfect.” I tangle my fingers in her hair and drag her lips to meet mine. “I’ll stay.” I steal her gasp with a kiss. “I love you; I’ll stay.” I repeat the words between kisses, over and over, until we’re breathless with it.
She drags her thumb along my bottom lip. “You bought a house?”
“Not yet.” I wince. “I wanted to make sure it was something you like … I mean, you don’t have to move in, or anything, if you—”
“Of course I do.” She smiles. “We’re married. And someone has to make sure I eat.”
I laugh.
“One more thing.” She presses her forehead to mine. “Or … two more things.”
“Anything,” I agree without knowing the details, running my thumb along her jaw, awed by even this small piece of her.
“I’m not changing my name,” she says with finality.
I can’t help but smile when I shake my head. “I’d never ask you to, Andie. Besides, your name is a brand now.”
She smiles, biting her lip. I take the invitation to pull her close and kiss her again.
“And the second thing?”
She has a twinkle in her eyes as she tells me, “I’m keeping that pencil.”
My laugh echoes in the small room. I lift her off the ground and kiss her hard on the mouth. “Keep it. I’ll buy you ten more.”
She shakes her head. “I love that one because it’s yours.”
I raise a brow.
“And maybe because it’s the one I drew all the dresses in my show with.” At my laughter, she says, “It’s a really nice pencil, Kit.”
We’re mid-kiss when there’s a knock on the door. It swings open before we can answer. The same assistant who helped get me to Andie today stands in the doorway, open-mouthed. “Sorry, I—”
“It’s okay.” Andie giggles. Reluctantly, I set her down. She’s still working tonight, as much as I’d love to whisk her away for some more private reconciliation time. “What’s going on?”
“Um.” The assistant steps aside and gestures to the women in the doorway behind her, “This is Molly Birmingham from Down the Aisle Bridal, with—”
“Odette Thorne,” Andie says, eyes going wide. Quickly she smooths her hair, and as she walks around me, I straighten her skirt. If these women are important enough for Andie to know them by name, she’ll want to look her best.
Molly and Odette step into the room and eye the divorce papers scattered on the ground like it’s the last day of school in a summer musical. When Odette returns her gaze to Andie with a raised brow, Andie shrugs. “We—that is, Kit—I mean—”
I step forward and offer my hand. “Kit Watson.” I shake both their hands. “Andie’s husband.”
Andie blushes but holds her head high as she offers a handshake as well. Odette gives Andie a mischievous grin. “I can see where you get the inspiration for your designs.” She tilts her head toward me, and I can’t help but smile.
“Yes,” Andie agrees solemnly. “He’s a big help, if you know what I mean.”
“You’ll have to tell me all about it over coffee,” Molly says. “Next week? Ms. Thorne alerted me to your talent, and I’d like to discuss a potential partnership.”
Odette holds a perfectly manicured finger up as if to tell us to hold on a moment. “After you agree to design my gown, of course.”
“Of course.” Andie nods. “I’ll get you on the schedule right away.”
Her fingers curl around mine, and she squeezes. I squeeze back, my chest swelling with pride. She did it. Andie fucking did it.
“Next week is perfect,” Andie says smoothly. She looks to her assistant. “Catarina, will you make sure Ms. Birmingham has my number so we can pick a time? And block out the next custom dress slot for Ms. Thorne.”
Catarina nods, already pulling out her phone. As Molly turns to give her information, I whisper in Andie’s ear, “You are everything, Ms. Dresser.”
“Oh my God!” Kendra squeals from the doorway, and soon we’re crushed in a cast group hug. All of us still married.
It seems the matchmakers got it right.