Andrew stood up and crossed his arms. His bare legs looked like they belonged to an athlete, but I don’t think Andrew had stepped into a pair of sports shoes since he left college.
How can I ever trust you?‘As features editor,’ I said.
‘If you want a promotion, don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of that.’ His eyes were dark, unlike the room we were seated in.
A sliver of a shiver went down my spine, erupting in my core. I wanted to punch his pea-sized, narcissistic heart. He thought I was chasing a title that he could toss at me like an extra biscuit? That I would leave my mother’s home, my father, my dearest friend, the city I loved, a job I valued, for a position. A danged label.
How had I ever thought this man knew me, got me?
I stood up slowly. I’d be damned if I was going to let him tower over me. I had worn heels. I felt like Beyoncé with a day job.
A steely calm dropped over me. I exhaled. I smiled. I did all those things I had practised.
‘Actually,’ I said, my voice, a cool spring drift, ‘it’s the money. They’ve doubled what I’m getting here.’ I couldn’t even sayMorning Herald, not that he noticed.
‘We’ll match that.’ He was so quick with his offer that it came back to me as I finished my sentence.
I walked the breadth of the room, stopping at the wood-panelled glass doors that led to the balcony. They were closed as I assumed they were most days at this hour as he prepared to leave for office. A coffee mug sat on the bar counter and beside it was a crime thriller, which was bookmarked at the halfway point.
‘What do you regret, Andrew?’ I didn’t need a gun; I had already shot myself.
‘Meena.’
‘What about the Meena episode do you regret?’
‘My biggest mistake.’
Why couldn’t I just hear the man? He was speaking clearly; he had done that over and over again. He regretted the Meena episode of his life for what it had done to HIM, for the havoc she had caused in HIS life. In that period, I was incidental.
‘It’s for the better.’ My voice was hopelessly frayed. ‘The split.’
‘I returned home to know my family’s past, to find you…’ His voice shook.
‘And you thought I’d be waiting?’ Bookmarked at where you disappeared.
He exhaled.
‘Eight years, Andrew. Eight years.’ And that wasn’t even the point.
‘We’ve moved past that,’ Andrew said.
I wanted to laugh.
Maybe it was the burden of his family’s complicated past or that time in his life when he was alone and splashing around with no shore in sight or that he was simply lust-sided. He just didn’t get what his tone-deaf rumba had done to me.
‘Why?’ he asked.
I wondered if this was the reporter in him or the lawyer, armed with that right to question. Even if it was lawless.
‘It doesn’t feel the same any more, and at times, I get the feeling it’s the same for you.’
‘What doesn’t feel the same? You’re holding back, not always, sometimes. I can see that.’
That he had ignored the second half of the sentence wasn’t lost on me. The wary prosecutor.
I turned so that I could face him. Andrew’s hands were knotted across his chest, his knuckles were white. I met his gaze.
‘I don’t think I can feel for you or anyone else what I once felt for you… It covered the earth and the seas; it scaled the mountains and kissed the skies.’ I paused. What I didn’t say was,There was no place for doubt. ‘This, what we shared theselast months, would’ve been enough with anyone else. With you, I want everything.’
