~ Andrea

“It’s nice to see you again, Paul.”

I give him a hug before sitting down.

“Same here.” He, too, sits down. “Have you been waiting long?”

“No. And don’t worry. You’re not late. I’m early.” I take a sip from my glass of red wine. “I decided to take a bit of a stroll around Chicago then I got tired, so I made my way here.”

“I was hoping I’d be here ahead of you, though, especially since I was just upstairs, but like last time, you beat me.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, I was at the restaurant first last time, though I wasn’t waiting for him then. Come to think of it, this is some sort of déjà vu. Last time, I was fleeing after realizing I got drunk and kissed Clay. Now, I’m fleeing again after Clay…gave me a hard time. Somehow, whenever I flee from Clay, I end up with Paul, and yet, I still can’t escape him.

“Well, this place is fancier than Charlie’s,” Paul says as he looks around.

I chuckle. “You can say that again.”

Indeed, The Langham’s Travelle Kitchen and Bar is modern and elegant, with chandeliers, digital art installations and glimpses of skyscrapers beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Quite a posh place, perfect for a fancy dinner.

Perfect for a romantic date?

I don’t know. I was sure before that this wasn’t a date but now, I’m not. Then again, what if it is?

“Let’s hope the food is just as good,” Paul says, calling for the waiter.

I raise my glass. “The wine seems excellent.”

He grins. We place our orders then after the waiter leaves, he leans forward.

“So, are you still with that friend?” he asks.

“Yup, with the whole family. They’re great people. Oh, and did I tell you my friend’s daughter has a condition?”

“A condition?” Paul’s eyebrows furrow.

“Yeah. She’s adopted, you see, and she was born to a heroin addict and that has affected the state of her mind somewhat.”

“I can imagine it did.”

“And so I’m helping her cope and live a normal life.”

“I see.” Paul nods, sitting back. “How old is she?”

“Six.”

“How is she now?”

“Good.” I smile at the memory of Rose on her pony. “She’s improved greatly.”

“Of course, she has. She has you.”

Another compliment.

“I just hope you don’t get too attached to her, since you’re living with her and all,” Paul adds. “After all, you will leave her eventually, won’t you? Or are you planning on staying with your friend permanently?”

I pause, my fingers around the stem of my wineglass.

“I…”

“I know this person is your friend but you have a life, Andrea, your own life,” Paul tells me.

I take another sip. “I know.”

“Or is this friend forcing you to stay?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. He hired me, actually. He’s paying me.”

“So it is a he?”

If I was holding my glass any less firmly, I would have dropped it.

Shit. Paul is as smart as he used to be.

“Let me guess.” Paul clasps his hands together. “He’s your boyfriend. You don’t love him anymore but you don’t want to leave the girl, his stepdaughter maybe, so you’re staying.”

“No.” I give another shake of the head.

“Or if he’s not using the girl to make you stay, you are. You still love him, hoping that things will be alright between the two of you so you stay, using the girl as an excuse.”

I frown. Rose is not an excuse.

“He is not my boyfriend,” I state firmly.

“But he’s more than a friend?”

I roll my eyes. Not Paul, too.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Paul.”

Thank goodness the food arrives, disrupting the conversation. As the waiter pours Paul a glass of wine, I ask for another. The waiter obliges then leaves.

“Sorry,” Paul says. “I’m just trying to help you. I still care about you, you know.”

“I don’t need help,” I tell him, taking another sip of wine. “I’m fine.”

“Says the woman who’s drinking too much wine.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “It’s just my second glass.”

“And we haven’t started dinner.”

I pout.

He chuckles as he picks up his fork. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop being so serious.”

“And sounding like my mother,” I tell him.

He scowls.

“Enough about me.” I pick up my own fork. “I’m sure we can find more interesting things to talk about.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

I ignore the remark, tasting my food.

“Mmm.” I place a hand over my mouth as I chew. “These mussels are so good.”

“So is my pork belly,” Paul says, nodding in approval as he chews on a morsel from his own dish.

I grab another heaven-coated mussel, my appetite suddenly roaring for more. “Let’s eat.”

---

“I think I ate too much.” I rub my belly as Paul and I head to the elevator.

Indeed, the food was so good I couldn’t stop eating, ordering the duck and the scallops after I was done with the mussels. I ordered dessert, too – a generous slice of exquisite chocolate cake.

“I think you drank too much,” Paul says.

“Are you saying I’m drunk? Because I’m not. In fact, I…”

I stop, nearly stumbling as I lose my footing.

Paul catches me. “You were saying?”

I frown. “Fine. Maybe I drank a little too much.”

“No. You drank too much,” he tells me. “You used to be wiser, you know.”

I look at him. “And you used to be more charming.”

He chuckles as we stop in front of the elevators. “It’s a good thing they still have a room.”

“Is it?” I ask him, leaning on him. “If they didn’t, I’d be sleeping in your room.”

Paul says nothing and after the doors open, we step in.

I lean against the wall, placing a hand on my forehead. “My head hurts.”

“Don’t throw up here,” Paul warns.

“Don’t worry, Doctor. I won’t.”

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the elevator stops. I step out, Paul following me.

I glance over my shoulder at him as I take my key out of my pocket. “Is your room on this floor, too?”

“No.”

I snort. “Why are you here then? Are you going to give me a good night kiss? Or are you actually going to join me in bed?”

“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I don’t kiss or go to bed with inebriated women.”

“Charming.”

I swipe the key and open the door to my room, leaning on it.

“What are you going to do then?”

“Well…”

“He’s leaving,” someone else answers from behind him.

I draw a breath.

Clay.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him, frowning.

“Fetching you.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going home. Not yet. And you shouldn’t be here.”

Paul clears his throat and Clay turns to him. “I’m sorry but I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Dr. Paul Sutton.”

“Clay Maxwell.” Clay shakes his hand. “I’m Andrea’s…friend.”

“Ah, the friend she’s staying with.”

“And you are?”

“Her friend, too,” Paul answers. “Andrea and I used to go out.”

“Strange. So did we.”

Awkward.

“I think I’m going to bed now.” I walk into my room.

“I think you should go,” I hear Clay telling Paul then the door closes behind me.

I throw myself on the bed. “You should go, too. I don’t remember asking you to keep me company.”

“No. You didn’t even tell me you were coming here.”

I lift my head. “Then how did you know I was here?”

He takes out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. My note.

My eyebrows crease. “I didn’t say where I was going.”

“No, but you wrote it down and your handwriting was quite heavy.”

I frown, letting my head down and staring at the ceiling.

“So, what? You’ve been watching me at the restaurant all evening?”

“Pretty much.”

“You must have been jealous.”

“I was,” he confesses.

I exhale. “You shouldn’t have come. You can’t just leave me alone, can you?”

“I was going to leave you alone, but then I found out you were meeting someone.”

“So?” I turn my head to look at him. “Am I not allowed to meet other men? I didn’t read anything like that in our contract.”

“No. You are allowed to make me jealous as hell just as I’m allowed to be pissed because of it.”

I laugh. “What makes you think I did it to make you jealous?”

“Because you were mad at me when you left.”

“Because you were a jerk.”

“Because I’m tired of playing this game.”

“What game?”

He sits on the bed. “You know very well what I’m talking about. Or are you still going to pretend to be blind and dumb?””

I sit up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You know I want you back and you know you feel the same.”

I stand up. “How dare you presume to know how I feel? Yes, maybe I am attracted to this rich, confident, perfect you. And maybe I still have a weak spot for you. But I don’t want you back.”

He stands next to me, meeting my gaze. “Because I hurt you before?”

“Yes!” I shout at him. “Because you left me and you broke my heart and you crushed my hopes!”

He sighs. “I said I was sorry.”

“Sorry? Do you really think that will cut it?”

I sit on the floor against the wall, sobbing.

He stands above me. “Andrea…”

“You have no idea how broken, how crippled and worthless I felt when you left me.”

“That was not my intention.”

“But it was what happened. I never felt more shattered in my entire life. I didn’t even know where to begin picking up the pieces. And it was like picking up broken glass. Every shard I picked up hurt. Each one I tried to put back in place wounded me. And each time I think I’ve mended, I just feel the cracks all over again. They’re still there. Each time I remembered you, I felt them. Each time I look at you, I feel them.” I touch my chest. “It always hurts here. No matter how hard I tried to heal, it still hurts.”

Clay falls silent.

“And you know the worst part?” I continue. “The worst part is not knowing why, wondering what I did wrong. Why did you leave me, Clay?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He takes a deep breath. “I didn’t want to leave you, Andrea. I only did because my mother was dying.”

“Your mother?”

I don’t understand.

“I told you my mother was dead but she was still alive. I just hated her, pretended I no longer had. Then I got a call one day and I found out she was dying. She wanted to see me. She was sorry for everything she’d done. My grandparents convinced me to go to her. I was only supposed to stay for a few days. That’s why I told you I was coming back. But after I saw her, I couldn’t leave.”

I stare at the floor, blinking tears away. All these years, I’ve thought of several reasons why Clay left but this, this never occurred to me.

“Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was scared. Because I knew you would be upset. And because I knew you. If I had told you what I was doing, you would have dropped everything and been with me.”

I look at him. “Because I loved you.”

“Yes, and I did, too. That’s why I didn’t want you to quit school or put everything on hold for me.”

I shake my head. No. I refuse to believe that Clay left me for my own good. It’s more cruel than anything I’ve ever thought of.

“Still, I’m sorry I had to leave you,” Clay continues. “Believe me, I didn’t want to. It was the toughest decision of my life.”

“But you don’t regret it?” I ask fearfully.

“I regret that things happened when they did, the way they did.” He kneels in front of me. “I regret that we were not able to do the things we planned on doing. And most of all, I regret hurting you.” He touches my cheek. “You are the only girl I’ve ever loved. You’re still the only woman.”

“Liar,” I spout at him, pushing his hand away.

He stands up. “I understand it’s easier for you not to believe me right now. It’s easier for you to run away. It’s easier for you to cling to the past. But I want you to understand that I love you, Andrea. I always have.”

He walks to the door.

“You’re leaving?” I ask him, my voice still shaky.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to leave you alone now. I won’t try anything. I’ve said what I wanted to say. It’s time for you to come up with an answer.”

“You think it’s that simple?”

“Nothing is simple,” he answers. “But love doesn’t have to be complicated.”

He opens the door, closing it behind him as he leaves.

I move to the bed, burying myself under the covers as I cry on a pillow. What? So I’m the bad one now because I’ve been getting mad at Clay when all he did was care for his dying mother? So I’m supposed to stop now, to forgive him now that I know the truth? Are we supposed to just pick up where we left off because neither of us wanted to be apart in the first place?

I shake my head. I don’t know. It’s really not that simple. I can’t just forget all those moments of betrayal, all those years of pain.

But he didn’t mean to hurt you.

But he did regardless of his intentions. We fell apart regardless of our hopes and so now, we must stay apart regardless of our feelings.

Love doesn’t have to be complicated.

But it is. I’ve never been more confused in my whole life.

“Andrea, are you alright?” I hear Paul’s voice behind the door.

I emerge from under the covers. “I’m fine. I just need to be alone.”

I don’t want him to see me right now, not like this.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I hear his footsteps fade and go back under the covers again. This time, I stay under, crying myself to sleep.

---

When I wake up, it’s from a phone ringing.

At first, I ignore it, still too lazy to get up, my head still throbbing. But it rings again. And again.

Frowning, I throw the covers off and realizing my phone is still in my purse, I search for it, finally finding it. I’m immediately tempted to throw it away, though, when I see Clay’s name on the screen.

What does he want now? Didn’t he say he was going to leave me alone?

Then as my mind becomes clearer, a thought occurs to me. What if it’s about Rose?

Quickly, I answer the call and press the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

“Andrea, Rose and I are headed to the hospital right now. She fell from a horse.”

What?