Page 160 of Go Find Less
“Are you about to Ninth Step me?” Fitz’s head snaps toward mine, and Andy’s mouth is moving, but no sounds are coming out as he looks between the two of us. “Ninth Step,” I repeat, staring at Fitz in frustration, and then scrubbing my hand down my face. My voice flattens as I look up at the ceiling. “How the fuck did I get here?”
“You’re telling me.” Andy laughs, but he stops the second we both look at him. “Sorry, I know exactly how I got here.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I deflect with humor, a lot. It’s my biggest character defect. Mostly poorly timed.” He swallows. “And poorly aimed.”
“If you’re here to try to get her to forgive you,” Fitz starts, but I hold up my hand again.
“Andy, I forgave you a long time ago.” Those were not the words either of them expected, clearly, and they both stare. “Fourth step,” I add with a shrug, “a searching and fearless moral inventory. Nothing like having to make a list of all the people who’ve fucked you, or fucked you over, to make you really take a harsh look at your life.” When I finish the sentence, I mull on it for a moment, and realize what I’ve said, my hand coming to my mouth. It slides up, over my eyes and I look down, my thumb and forefinger pressing into my brows.
“Sorry, Andy. I think I had a small stroke, and forgot you were in here.” But Andy’s chest is shaking as he looks up at the ceiling, same as I had.
“In what world is Piper Delmonico an alcoholic?” he asks, leaning against the back of the chair with his forearms.
“In the same world where I’m a widow.” My voice is matter of fact, and it doesn’t strike Fitz in quite the same way it clearly does Andy, his eyes widening.
“And where Liv cheated on me with Ryan,” Fitz adds, and both Andy and I wrinkle our noses, the thought thoroughly disgusting.
“Look,” Andy says after a minute, and he shakes his head, swiping at his nose like it’s a nervous twitch. “I hurt you.” Fitz raises a brow as he stares at me, catching the way my throat bobs out of the corner of his eye. I’m clearly uncomfortable, holding back. “More than hurt you.” Andy Martin sighs, long and deep, and then he’s looking back up like he’ll be able to read what he needs to say off the wainscot ceilings. “I humiliated you, shared things that should have been kept private.” His hat dangles from his fingers, and it looks like Fitz is concentrating really hard on the hat, and not on whatever thoughts are spinning beneath those auburn curls. “I…fucked you over.” I think he omitted several words, because his pause is punctuated by a clear look at Fitz. Probably for the best, not saying he fucked me in a confided space with both of us.
“You did.” I nod, just slightly, and cross my arms over my chest, a clear defensive move. Fitz’s hand keeps moving on my back. “You ruined my reputation, you hurt me physically, emotionally. You hurt my friends.”
“I ninth stepped Montero about thirty minutes ago,” Andy interrupts, and I shoot him a withering look. “Right, sorry.”
“You were a shitty friend to me, and an even shittier person when we were more than friends. You made me feel like less than I am, less than I’m worth, and a piece of that has always been with me, through everything.” And then I look at the man next to me, just briefly, before I sigh. “But this one hasn’t told me a whole lot, and I think you and your family may have taken up for him growing up. Being there for him.” Andy’s gaze meets Fitz’s, and he nods. That, he’s willing to concede to. “I forgave you a long time ago, Andy.”
“I don’t deserve it.”
“You don’t,” Fitz agrees. “Neither of us deserve her forgiveness, because I sat by and watched the shit you threw her way, and did nothing.” I press my hand into the side of his leg.
“There was nothing you could have done.” Andy runs his hand over his head again. “I was drowning, even back then, sneaking drinks wherever I could find it. Your wedding is the only reason I’m standing here.”
“I’m sorry, what?” He laughs, nodding back toward the door.
“Your sister threw me in an Uber, paid the driver to make sure I got home ok, and then called Alice and told her to help me sort my shit out.” He winces. “I puked in the backseat of the Uber, and had to help Fran get her account reinstated.”
For a moment, Fitz stands in stunned silence, staring at the man he once called his best friend, who has clearly just told him some news about his sister.
“Be that as it may,” I cut in, effectively shaking Fitz out of his spiral. “You’ve said your piece, I think it’s time you head back out to the party.”
“Nah,” he says, tipping his hat back on. And for a second, that cool, cocky face slides back on, and we’re back in the halls at Southwest. “I’ve said what I came here to say. I’ve got a beautiful lady and a Ranger’s game waiting for me when I get home.” When I stare, he adds, “the lady is a dog, by the way. A husky.”
“Out,” I order, pointing to the door, but I can’t help the smile that threatens to slide across my face at the idea of Andy Martin, home alone on a Saturday night, cuddling with a husky. Andy holds his hands up, backing away.
“Got it, got it.” He pauses, mid step. “By the way, was that Nolan Calloway out there with Barton?”
“Out,” Fitz repeats, nodding with his chin.
“Ok, sheesh.” He’s got the door halfway open before he turns back again.
“What now?” I whine.
“He’s always had a soft spot for you, you know.” Andy adjusts his hat, nodding toward Fitz, and he looks like he wants to curl inward on himself as my head bobs between the two of them. “Even back in the day, we could all tell that-"
Fitz picks up what’s closest to his hand, a staple remover, and chucks it at him, and unlike me, his aim doesn’t completely suck. Andy has to deflect it with his hand where it nearly makes contact with his face. When the door clicks closed behind him, Fitz scrubs both hands down his face, his fingers separating to look at me.
“What the hell just happened?”
“I think Andy Martin just ninth-stepped me.”
Fitz makes a face.