Page 106 of Holding The Reins

Andrew

Six-thirty tonight.

Ok, I’ll stay out of their way.

Andrew

Actually, they’d like to have the place to themselves. I was thinking we could grab a quick bite to eat? Go over everything and be prepared for tomorrow.

I chew my bottom lip. The last thing I want to do is share a meal with Andrew.

Andrew

I know you’re sitting there over analyzing this. It’s just a meal, CeCe. We shared eight years together. I’m hoping when this is all said and done, we can be friends. We can go to El Fonzo, and besides, what else are you going to do? It’s raining and you’ll need to be out for at least an hour.

Ok. I’ll meet you there. Tell them they can have an hour.

I text Ginger to tell her what I’m doing so someone knows where I’ll be.

I put my phone down and look around the space. Our appointment is scheduled for noon tomorrow and my flight out is scheduled for three fifteen. It hits me all of a sudden that this will be the last time I’ll ever see this place. I wipe a tear from my cheek.

I’m not sad for Andrew and I, not sad to see this place go, I’m just sad.

A whole era down the drain, years of my life I’ll never get back. I think of Nash’s eyes the other night, the fear I saw in them and I wonder if he has it right. Relationships can really suck.

Aside from me taking a break and not answering Nash, he’s messaged me every day since I left Kentucky, telling me we need to talk, telling me he froze, how sorry he is. I just have to separate these two sides of my life until I get back, like Church and State. I’ll deal with Andrew first, then head home and face Nash. He’ll either be able to move forward and we could have a real go at a relationship or he won’t. I’m prepared for either.

Texts have come from both my Mama and Cole which means Wade has filled them in. Mama’s were sweet and encouraging, telling me to be patient like she said. Cole’s weren’t angry, but gruff, asking me how I could let this happen with someone who is practically family but then adding in that he’s here if I want to talk. He’s usually the calmer one of my two brothers.

I wash over every moment with Nash in the last two months. I knew who he was, I just didn’t see him coming. And if I’m being completely honest, I would never have been able to stop this even if I had.

I push the door open to El Fonzos and nostalgia hits me. I spent many fun nights here with my friends in college—all of whom I have since lost touch with. The wide, yet still intimate, space is brick on both sides with sprawling glass windows at the front facing out onto Stewart Street. Edison lights twinkle overhead and moody Italian instrumentals play over the sound system.

Andrew is already seated in the busy restaurant but I spot him through the crowd in the dark space.

He raises a hand and I head toward him, wondering what I ever saw in him. He looks worn and tired, as if these last few months haven’t been easy on him. I feel sorry for him. He’ll never know the feeling of what I have with Nash. Andrew doesn’t even know how to love someone, he doesn’t even love himself, and because of that, he’ll probably always live an empty life.

“Andrew,” I say as he stands and squeezes my hand.

We sit, and awkward silence overtakes us.

“Did you get everything sorted out while you were here?” he asks as he peruses the menu.

“Yes, the shipping company is coming in the morning to take the belongings I want back to Kentucky.”

The server comes to our table and Andrew orders red wine while I order an iced tea. I’ve had enough wine in the last two days to meet my quota.

We talk awkwardly about the technical side of the condo sale and the weather, new items on the menu. I start to wonder how I’ll ever make it through this meal. Were things this forced before?

Errant chattering beside us draws my attention away from Andrew as familiar faces come through the front door. David and Rachel Thompson and Bradley and Lenora Stanton—Andrew’s best friends and colleagues—approach our table.

I look from them to Andrew and then back to them.

“Sorry we’re late, traffic was a nightmare,” Rachel says as she reaches out to me for a hug.

I’m stunned where I sit before her, and I turn to look at Andrew again.

Rachel’s Chanel No. 5 perfume washes over me and her silky red hair presses against my cheek as she hugs me but I don’t take my eyes off of Andrew.

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