Page 79 of Not You Again
I ignore Steve crashing through the brush by the tree.
My hand moves to Andie’s jaw, my thumb brushing her lower lip. Her eyes stay locked on mine. We’re closer now than we were six weeks ago—she’d have never let me touch her like this weeks ago—but I still feel like I’m reaching for her in the dark. “Say something, please,” I beg.
She swallows, and my thumb follows the knot in her throat as it works its way down. Her eyelids fall closed, and she gives her head a small shake. With seemingly a herculean effort, she says quietly, “You know I’d never ask you to stay.”
All the air in my lungs escapes in a rush, my head light. It feels a lot like a goodbye. I wince. “Don’t say that. You have every right to ask me to stay.”
Her lower lip quivers and she looks away. “I know what this job means to you.” She shrugs. “I know you wouldn’t ask me to give up my business, either.”
I curl my fingers into the bark on the tree, savoring the rough bite into my flesh. She thinks a lot of me, to say she knows I wouldn’t ask that of her. I’m not sure I have it in me to be so selfless, not now that we’ve found each other.
With a heavy sigh, I say, “It’s all hypotheticals at this point. Let’s just … have lunch.”
Andie clears her throat primly. “I just remembered—I have a client meeting at one, and I have to leave now to make it on time. Maybe next time?”
She doesn’t have a client meeting, and she hasn’t had one for a while. It’s why she’s so worried about the money from the show. “Andie, please. Stay in this with me.”
Her eyes grow wider, making her look remarkably like a scared animal I’ve just backed into a corner.
“Please,” I beg. “Talk to me.”
“I will.” She presses her fingers into my chest, her eyes on my throat. “As soon as I even know what to say.” Her eyes find mine. “It just hit me that you travel for work, and I—”
“I’ve told you I travel for work.” My voice pulls taut, ready to snap at a single ounce more pressure.
“You did,” she agrees.
Before I can make my case—that I’ll still be at her beck and call, that I’ll take care of her even if we’re a world away—she presses her lips to mine. It’s a slow and gentle kiss, with her opening to me, offering herself up. The only thing that gives her desperation away is how she clutches my shirt in her fists. I wish it did more to soothe the anxiety climbing up my throat.
“I just need some time to process,” she whispers.
“Process.” I run a thumb along her jaw. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. But you came to have lunch with me. Let’s have lunch.”
Her eyes soften.
“I know you’re hungry.” I can’t keep the edge of desperation out of my own voice as I try to lighten this conversation up. “And I really don’t want to deal with your grumpy ass later because you forgot to eat.”
She takes a deep breath, and I watch the rise and fall of her chest. She wants to run, I can tell. But she’s the bravest person I know, so she stays. “Okay,” she agrees. “Lunch. And I do not get grumpy when I’m hungry.”
“Sure you don’t, sweet potato.” I smile as she slips from under my arms. She tosses me a hesitant smile over her shoulder when she finds her way back to the path to the resort. I force myself to take air into my lungs and follow.
I’m not sure how I could bear to be away from her for months at a time, maybe flying her out occasionally to visit. I’m sure I know someone who’s involved with the fashion scene in Milan; that could be a draw for Andie to join me in Italy and I—
“Hypotheticals,” I mutter to myself as I catch up with her, then pick up her hand.
We pause for Steve to catch up before heading to the restaurant.
The reality of my job is that I will eventually have to leave Atlanta. I’ve always known that. I told Andie I travel for work; she knows I’ll have to leave too. I’ve been taking care of my mom from afar for a long time now. I just need to show Andie I can do the same—be there for her even when I can’t be nearby.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREEANDIE
I completely forgot we’re having dinner with Kit’s mom tonight. When I arrive home to him and the crew waiting for me, my head is a jumbled mess. Somewhere between my foolish decision to visit Kit at work and an afternoon buried in my own work, I can barely focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
Not how I wanted to meet Kit’s mom, truthfully. She’s so important to him, and now that we’re all in, tonight matters. I’m supposed to be poised and pulled together and the kind of wife that would make Kit proud.
Instead, I can’t bring myself to have even a sliver of decent conversation with Kit on the drive. He can’t seem to find our normal push and pull, either. So I just throw glances at the GoPro Cassidy fastened to the passenger-side corner of the cab in Kit’s SUV, to film us while we’re on our way.
By the time we pull into a dirt driveway beside a robin’s-egg blue single-wide, my heart is in my throat. Kit loves his mom; everything he does has her at the center of it. She’s fighting cancer, and he’s holding it all together.