Page 88 of Saved By the CEO

“I don’t care.”

“I look like shit.”

His gaze moves over me, and something almost amused flickers across his face. “I don’t care.”

Rude.

He steps inside, and I can see his eyes sweep over the apartment. It’s untidy, yes, but it’s not a terrible place to live. Both Annie and I playedThe Simsreligiously growing up, so it’s nicely furnished, and while it’s not a high-end apartment, it’s not one of the crappy ones either. It’s nice. Cozy.

Currently buried under laundry, but still.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I give him an odd look. “No?”

“Then why—” He gestures toward my head and the hood covering it.

“It’s a long story,” I lie.

He will never see the Pepper.

Andrew sets the bag on our kitchen table and starts taking out containers. It smells heavenly.

“Do you have silverware?” he asks, sounding genuine. Not like,“Could you bring out your silverware?”but genuinely, “Do you own silverware?”

I open a drawer and grab us forks. As I set them on the table, I think, fuck him for just showing up here, and therefore say, “I’m allergic to peanuts, you know. So I hope you asked for it without.”

He shakes his head and slides a container toward me. “No, you’re not.”

I open my mouth to object, but he just pushes it even closer. “Eat.”

All right, damn.

I dig in, and he does the same. Every now and then, I glance at him, taking in the absurd fact that he’s sitting there in our kitchen. He looks too big at the tiny table, too polished even with the shadows under his eyes, as if someone accidentally dropped a Chanel bag into a Walmart clearance bin.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat. “So, about last night.”

I cringe. “Is this really necessary?”

“Last night cannot happen again.”

“I already got the speech from Dr. Shaw,” I say, stabbing a shrimp with my fork. “She did the whole medical reality thing. It was very sobering, lots of eye contact. Ten out of ten, would not recommend.”

“I’m glad she spoke to you.”

“Great. Then we can consider me spoken to.”

“No,” he says, not harshly, but with enough certainty that I look up. “We can’t.”

Andrew’s jaw works once before he continues. “When Dr. Shaw called me, for a few seconds I thought she was going to tell me you were dead. She said your name, and that it was urgent, and in the time it took her to explain that you were alive, I had already decided it was my fault.”

I go still.

He looks down at the table, and for once he doesn’t seem polished at all.

“I thought about how I almost came here when you didn’t answer, but I didn’t. I told myself you were home, that Annie was there, and that you knew the risks and would call if you started feeling worse. I didn’t want to push harder because I knew you were trying to create distance, and I didn’t want to make you feel cornered.” He lifts his gaze back to mine. “Then Dr. Shaw told me you needed treatment immediately. She said that if Annie hadn’t called when she did, you might not have made it through the night.”

I put down my fork, feeling something sickly settle in my stomach.