The First Taste(117)

He comes further into the room with two glasses of amber liquid and sets them on the coffee table. “I told you, I didn’t buy that book or even read it. Sadie gave it to me. There aren’t exactly many books on what to do when your girlfriend disappears overnight and leaves you with a small child. Sadie overreacted.”

“You’re holding back.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I just don’t see the point of living in the past.”

“You want me to trust you. I’ve told you everything there is to know about Reggie and my life, but you’re still shutting me out. I understand why, but I can’t accept it.” I gesture around the cozy family room. “Not if I’m going to become part of this.”

He glances at the ground. “Why give her that power over us? It happened four years ago. I’m not getting back together with her, believe me.”

“I do, but Sadie gave you this book for a reason. You can’t just pretend it never happened because it hurts too much to revisit.”

“It doesn’t hurt. I don’t feel anything about it.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” I say and stiffen. I’m as surprised by my declaration as Andrew looks to hear it. Shit shit shit. This was the last thing I wanted. But standing here in his home is not as terrifying as I thought it would be. Maybe it isn’t what I envisioned for myself, a home in the suburbs, a young girl, a good, hard-working man, a career up in flames. But somehow, he and Bell and this home—they fit into the puzzle of my life like a piece I didn’t know was missing. Andrew wasn’t a complete picture until this moment, until I could see him here, as a father who comes home to his daughter every night. As a man who runs a household by himself.

Silence stretches between us.

“Is that what you want?” I ask him finally. “Does it scare you? Would you rather keep everything to yourself? If so, take me home now. Because you got it wrong. We both did.” I point at the steel machine tattooed on his chest. “Hard hearts break easy. It’s the soft ones that survive hit after hit.”

He stands there in the stillness that follows, and as he does, the truth of my words sets in—for me, and, I think, for him. He was upfront from the start. Love wasn’t on the table. Is an ultimatum really fair? Maybe not. But this is what I need. It would hurt to walk away after all this, or to be left behind, but if he can’t move on from his past . . . then we have to say goodbye.

And it has to be now.





THIRTY-THREE



Andrew hasn’t blinked in what feels like minutes. I’ve hit him with an unfair ultimatum—let me all the way in or let me go. It would be easier to take it back and trust we’d get there in time, but I can’t. I’m not prepared to endure what I went through with Reggie, who I don’t think I ever loved absolutely, with Andrew, who I think I could.

“We’ve always been able to be honest with each other,” I say. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says right away.

“I’m not asking for the world, but if you want me to stay, I need more.”

With a swallow, he nods. “I know. I didn’t even realize I was . . . keeping you out. It wasn’t on purpose.”

I replace the self-help book on grief on the shelf and go to him, rounding the couch. “I don’t blame you—we had a deal. But now we have a new one.”

After a few tense seconds, one corner of his mouth lifts. “We do? What would that be?”

“We’re allowed to fall in love.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And?”

“That’s it. We take it day by day. We stay honest with each other.” I chew my bottom lip. “Or, we walk away like we originally planned. But I know I’ll always wonder what could’ve been if . . .” I’m out on the ledge alone. I’m tempted to look at my hands, but I hold onto a thread of courage. This is new for both of us, and he deserves my patience.

“If what, Amelia?”

“If I had let myself love you.”

His expression sobers. “I would wonder too. Always.” He sits on the couch. Taking my hand in his, he tugs me down next to him. “She made us my favorite dinner that night. Back then, I didn’t cook. I didn’t clean or do much of anything around the house, honestly. I was just trying to get the garage going, and that took up a lot of my time.”

“You sound like you regret that,” I say.

He nods. “Part of what I struggle with is the fact that I wasn’t a good boyfriend. I thought I made up for that by being a good dad, but Shana didn’t see it that way.”

I bring our laced hands to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “You blame yourself.”

“Sometimes.” He pulls my legs over his lap, and I settle back against the opposite arm so I can see him. “We all went to bed that night. When I woke up, Bell was crying in her crib. Shana was nowhere to be found, but she didn’t have a job or anywhere she had to be at six in the morning. Once I’d calmed Bell down, I went into my closet. Most of her things were gone. I panicked and called the police, but they knew better. When I admitted her things were missing, they told me to wait a couple days.”

He leans forward and picks up his drink before passing me mine. “So, she was gone. I called her mom, who said Shana was safe but that was all she could tell me. I would’ve gone to her parents’, but they lived hours away, and I was saddled with Bell and work. Plus—I was f*cking bitter. I wasn’t about to go banging on her door, begging her to come back. Eventually, when I was ready to face her, her parents said she was no longer there.”