as if I’m stalling.
But I do. And I am.
I don’t know why.
Walking away is so much harder with this man.
Andrew’s staring at me.
And his next words come out careful, nervous—“Yeah, you walk? I’m right behind you. You disappear? I wait. That’s it now, Sonny. That’s us.”
No.
That could’ve been us,
if I wasn’t me and he wasn’t him.
A timeline where I opened my heart wide enough to let him in.
And he kicked everyone else out of his,
locking only us in his chest like?—
This is it, just you and me, Sonny.
But it’s not.
I got the Baby Contract.
And he’s got all of them.
“Andrew. There is nous.”
I say it slow, steady.
I keep my eyes locked on his, keep the events of the night pinned behind my lids, a movie replaying to remind me each time I blink.
“I only walked up to that stage because I wasn’t about to let you embarrass yourself with everyone watching. That’s it.”
I sound terrifyingly calm.
Truth is, I’m dying.
“You said you want me, but...”
I lift a shoulder. “I don’t want you.”
Andrew’s whole body goes still.
Not fear-stricken still.
It goes no-air-heart-shatteredstill.
Then panic floods his face.
“Stop, Sonny, don’t. Don’t fuckin’ say that.
“That’s not even fuckin’ true.”
