Page 96 of Not You Again
Dr. Leon adjusts his own lapels for the camera while Petra waits for the cue to begin the conversation. Andie sits close enough to touch, and still a world away. I haven’t spoken to her since our fight the other night. For the last forty-eight hours my mind replayed her desperate plea as she tried to get to me: I don’t give a damn about the show!
My eyes slide to her hands, hoping I can get a glimpse of the state of them, to see how much she’s thrown herself into her work. If she’s taking care of herself without me to bother her about it. I swallow when I realize I can’t tell.
I should have told her how much I love her hands—how capable they are.
“You two are the surprise of the season,” Petra begins, gesturing to us both. “You dated once before and then got married, sight unseen. How did it feel that day at the altar?”
“Like I was falling, with no safety net.” I offer a small smile.
Andie studies me for a moment. “Sounds like you should have brought a helmet.”
That makes everyone chuckle, including me. I rub my jaw with my fingers, unsure what to say.
“What about you, Andie?” Dr. Shaw asks, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
I hold my breath while Andie ponders for a few seconds. Finally, she says, “A nightmare.”
The hosts exchange dramatic looks that I’m sure will look great spliced together on TV.
Andie sighs and explains, “This man who left me after I told him I loved him all those years ago was supposed to be my perfect match? How humiliating.”
The hosts smile amiably as she waves away the idea.
“But then”—she turns her eyes on me—“I got to know him for who he is now. We had fun and we found our rhythm again. The nightmare morphed into a bit of a fever dream. It’s still hard to believe it’s all real.”
I give her the slightest nod of acknowledgment, unsure what to say.
“Andie,” Petra says, a smile pulling at her lips, “is there anything you’d like to say to Kit before we get started?”
She looks at her hands in her lap and takes a deep breath. When she looks into my eyes, I’m crumbling. She’s got to be able to see it. She knows me better than anyone. She always did.
“Kit,” she says softly, like a caress. “There’s a lot I could say, but mostly I want to thank you for taking care of me.”
She swallows and holds my gaze.
The corner of my mouth tugs into a small smile, just for her. The cameras weren’t around when we did it, but most every night, I took care of her hands, bandaged any new pricks in her fingertips, and toward the end, before we fought, I kissed away the ache of the day’s work before bed.
“Kit,” Petra cuts into my thoughts, “what about Andie? Is there anything you’d like to say to her?”
My mouth goes dry even though I knew they were going to ask this. We were briefed on it yesterday. The words I want to say simply won’t come. I want to tell her she’s beautiful, that the years away from me have been good for her. That I’m sorry I was so cold in the beginning. That I wish we had more time.
But most of all, I want to apologize for not being what she needs. I had two days to sit alone with the truth: If I’ve given all I can and it’s not enough, nothing ever will be, as much as I wish it could be.
I simply frown and shake my head. None of it’s good enough, and I don’t want to say any of it in front of an audience.
Andie shrinks beside me, pulling away ever so slightly.
“Over the past eight weeks,” Dr. Shaw says, “you’ve been through a lot together, without even knowing who you were going to marry. You took a leap of faith that day, and another one every day since.”
Petra nods sagely, as if this part isn’t scripted. “You had your first look at forever eight weeks ago and spent these eight weeks exploring what the future could look like. Now it’s time to make a decision.” She turns to Andie, her expression growing serious. I can already see how they’ll layer this under dramatic music for TV. “Andie, do you want to continue this marriage?”
She licks her lips and looks at her hands again, smoothing them over her skirt. The one she designed for herself and made for herself, without anyone’s help.
My pulse kicks up a notch, and I hold my breath. If she says yes, I have no hope of saying no.
Her lips pull into a frown, and she tangles her fingers together, clenching them so tightly her knuckles blanch. Her chest rises and falls with a deep breath. The silence stretches on so long and so taut, I’m afraid I’m going to snap clean in two waiting for her answer.
I’m frozen in time as she meets my gaze, so soft and open I’m not sure how to hold it.