Page 105 of Holding The Reins

Andrew

I’m at the outside the terminal.

I put my phone back in my purse and sigh. I haven’t seen Andrew in over a month, not since Nash hit him in the middle of main street, so I brace myself. The familiar anxiety creeps up my spine.

The air is cooler in Seattle, it can’t be more than sixty-five degrees and I see Andrew before he sees me, his blonde hair perfectly styled, designer pants and a Burberry jacket.

I shiver, suddenly feeling underdressed as Andrew turns and lets his eyes rake over my cut off jean shorts, black Ramones t-shirt, and Birkenstocks.

“Well, Cecilia, I see you’ve kept it casual,” he quips as he leans down and kisses my cheek.

I stiffen under his hold.

“Shall we?”

I nod.

“I have cleared out of the condo for you. There’s food there for you, if you’d like. We will meet Gary on Wednesday, but you have the next two days at your disposal to deal with your belongings. For what it’s worth, I want to apologize for speaking to you so out of turn when I saw you last.”

“Thanks,” I say, offering him a tight smile.

The whole vibe between us is weird and forced. Andrew isn’t a nice man—he’s pompous and he doesn’t think about anyone but himself so all this syrupy sweet care is unnerving me. I am just desperate to get away from him.

We pull up to the Crystal Terrace condominium complex as I fidget with my purse strap. I didn’t expect coming back here to hit me this way.

My chest tightens and all the memories with Andrew hit me at once. The constant worry, the constant pressure to never ask questions and just accept things the way they were. I realize, staring up at this polished, pristine structure, that after two months of being back home in Kentucky, this feels completely foreign and fake. And right now, all I can think of is Nash and how much he would hate everything about this stuffy, upscale building.

The regret I feel for giving him an ultimatum hits me as I look out the window. I didn’t even give him a chance to answer me, I just threw all my feelings at him and expected him to be able to do the same, but Nash isn’t me and I have no idea how difficult letting go of the control might be for him.

Andrew clears his throat. I turn to him as he gets out of the car and goes for my bag in the back seat.

“I’ve got it, Andrew. Thanks.”

“I’ll bring it upstairs for you.”

“No, Andrew. I’ve got it.”

“It’s no trouble, really. You shouldn’t carry it all the way up—”

“Andrew, please. This will be easier if we don’t spend time together. I’m here to get my things and sign the papers, and that’s it.” I grab the handle of my suitcase from him and pull it towards me. “I’ll see you Wednesday,” I say firmly.

He takes the hint finally and backs towards his car, nodding at me as he goes,

“Okay, CeCe. If you need anything, I’m just a phone call away.”

“Thank you.”

He mercifully bows out and gets back into his car, and I venture into the building already regretting I’m here and praying this time goes quickly.

I spend the next forty-eight hours trading between sorting through eight years of my life here, eating, drinking Andrew’s most expensive bottles of wine and crying. The women’s shelter I used to work with was happy to come when I called this morning and pick up everything I didn’t want—piles of clothes, shoes and accessories I’ll never wear in Kentucky. After packing up all the things I actually want to keep, I lean back on the couch and take a deep breath.

It’s only Tuesday.

Andrew

The new buyers would like to go through the condo one more time before we sign tomorrow. How are you doing? Would this be possible?

Yes, that’s fine, what time?

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