“Hang on a moment,” he said, holding up a hand to Bonnie.
I pulled off a glove and reached around to release the clasp. The helmet came loose with a soft tearing of Velcro, and I lifted it off my head, my hair springing around my face.
“Andrea?” he said. “Is that… you?”
I sniffed, feeling the sweat run down from my hairline into my eyebrows.
He took a step toward me. “Jesus. Andrea. You look a bit—?”
“I am.” My voice wavered. Human again, but not quite normal.
I wiped my face with the back of my bare hand, smearing makeup and sweat together. He stared at me for a moment, then crossed the space. He was right there, in front of me.
“Let’s go somewhere else,” he said quietly. “Where there are fewer people.”
I nodded.
He took my hand and led me away from the crowd, through a quiet door marked VIP, and into a lift. We rose in silence, me trying to catch my breath in the stupid Wookiee outfit. The lift doors opened onto the rooftop, and we sat at the glass edge. A jug of water appeared, and ice clinked as Liam poured, the space around us quiet.
“I thought you didn’t want to see me, Andrea,” he said. “I phoned and messaged, but you’d told me to leave you alone and—”
“I was wrong, Liam,” I said, my eyes filling. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up. That letter I filed with HR—”
“Please,” he said gently. “You don’t have to—”
“I need to tell you.” There was an edge of hysteria to my tone. “Writing that letter was wrong, Liam. I should never have done it in the first place, and after I got to know you, I should have shredded it. I meant to, but somehow—”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know—”
“But that doesn’t change anything,” I said. “I’d already written it. I’d said all those mean things about you, and it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t true, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Andrea—”
“It came from the same place as everything else.” I paused and drew a breath. Liam was right. It didn’t matter if you were scared. You just had to ignore that and do the right thing anyway.
“I was making excuses to myself,” I said softly. “So I could stay safe. Because it felt more dangerous to want something and… risk losing it… than to tell myself I didn’t want anything at all.”
His arms around me, his gentle protection, afuture.
“Do you know what I mean?” I asked.
“Of course I do.”
Didhe?
Since we’d met, he’d always been there for me, constant and unafraid, with a hoodie to sit on, a gentle touch on the arm, an apology when it was needed. He didn’t make excuses. When he saw what was wrong, he tried to make it right.
“What were you making excuses about?” He took my hand quietly and held it in his lap.
“I don’t know. Everything. My painting, what I wanted.” I met his eyes. “But mostly about you.”
The cool London air filled my lungs, like every last corner was being cleared out and sharpened.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
He shifted closer and put his arm around me.
