Chapter 26 Liam
Liam
Andrea was already at the table when I came in, a pot of coffee in front of her. She looked different from last night, her face fresh without makeup, cheeks glowing.
Fuck. Last night.
“Morning.” I sat and looked at the menu.
“Hi.” She smiled. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, so I ordered coffee already.”
If we’d shared a room, we’d have come down together, but that was for real couples. Not people who listened for each other through walls and went to bed alone.
Why had she been listening? She must have heard her name when I’d told Bonnie how well she’d done with Hugo. It was only human nature that she’d want to. But the thought made my chest ache. She didn’t trust me.
I knew why. No matter how many pretty speeches I gave about systems and reform, what I was doing to Novexia hurt her. It damaged her world and the people she cared about.
I don’t know why it hadn’t been obvious to me before. I’d been so focused on keeping the numbers tidy, I hadn’t thought about how it affected her.
“I’ll have the poached eggs, please,” I said to the waiter.
“Yogurt and berries for me,” she said.
It had struck me mid-speech, when I’d finally caught her eye. Trust was the only investment worth making.
No wonder she’d been looking at me like that in the Union. How could I expect her to trust me when I was doing exactly what she’d told me she was scared of in her bedroom that time—taking Novexia apart?
All about the profit, that’s what she’d said.
That part wasn’t true, but it must have looked that way.
“Sleep well?” I said.
“Great, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
Polite, reserved, like I hadn’t almost opened that door and taken her in my arms like I’d wanted to.
Of course she’d have rejected that. The thought of her shock, confusion, like when I’d accidentally taken off that Cheetos Snuggie, wasn’t something I wanted to entertain.
No matter what I wanted to believe, she was contractually obliged to be here with me, and that created a chore-like pressure on her I didn’t like. If she’d wanted me to open that door, she would have given me a reason to.
It would be wrong of me to ask her for something she clearly wasn’t offering.
*
I started the car’s engine, and we pulled out on St. Giles, heading toward the ring road. She reached across the center console to adjust the air vent, her hand passing close enough to my wrist that I felt the warmth of her skin before she pulled back again.
I kept my eyes fixed on the road. Brake lights flared ahead as a bus pulled out and a cyclist slipped between the lanes.
She was still quiet, as if distracted. All Out Eighties started over the speakers, but it didn’t quite fit this morning. We were both slightly reserved, like something had moved.
It was hard seeing her at Christ Church. She’d looked perfect—she’d been perfect—but I had the sense she didn’t feel quite at home. I’d put her through that. She’d done it for me, and she’d never once expressed hesitation or discomfort.
Hugo’s question had been a test, no doubt about it. He wanted to see if she was the right sort of person to stand beside me while I made the changes I needed to. I’d wondered what she’d say, but her gentle rebuttal was so gracious and truthful it had sent a shiver down my spine.
“I think Hugo was impressed with your answer yesterday,” I said, trying to break the awkward silence. She turned to me, a small smile on her lips.
“Oh … you think?”
“Yes, despite what you might think of him, he does appreciate other people’s opinions, even if they differ from his.”
“Oh, well … good. I’m glad. I hoped I hadn’t embarrassed you.” She bit her bottom lip, as if she had no idea what that did to a man trying to behave professionally.
“No, Andrea. Not at all.”
She nodded, then after a shrug, she turned back to the window.
When was the last time someone told Hugo Stewart something like that—that the end didn’t justify the means?
Hugo was all about the big picture, like my father in some ways, just warmer with it.
Hugo knew nothing was black and white, and that sometimes you had to break one thing to fix something else.
But Andrea didn’t care. She’d told him there was no excuse for casual cruelty.
Did Hugo think about that for the rest of the night, like I had?
It seemed simple, standing next to her. Her values were the same whether she was talking to a cabinet minister or a waiter.
I’d never dated a woman before who’d even noticed the waiters, let alone cared that one who’d just insulted her didn’t face consequences. Was Kai even aware of what she’d done?
She’d been the same with Karl and the sales assistant, Sylvia.
She was kind, her values consistent. Seeing the world I lived in through her eyes had reminded me of when I was growing up, when things had been normal, before Wilhelm had sent me off to Winchester and the weight of everyone’s expectations had landed so hard on my shoulders.
I looked across, but she was looking out the window at the low buildings of Somerville College, bikes stacked up outside the arched entry. Her reflection moved faintly in the glass.
Was she thinking about last night? Did she have any idea how I’d felt with her there, on my arm? She made me want to do better, to be better. To speak the truth even when it was difficult, like she did.
But it was more complicated than that. I’d started something at Novexia and had no option but to finish it—the cost of failure was too high.
I looked at her again. Her hands were folded in her lap, dark hair falling across her face.
The reasons wouldn’t matter to Andrea. Only the damage would. And there was nothing I could do about that.