"Hey," he says, his voice warm and familiar, the perfect balm to my frayed nerves. "Did you talk to Malia?"
"Yeah," I say, a smile tugging at my lips. "She knows about us."
Andy laughs softly. "She told me she figured it out weeks ago. She's been waiting for you to tell her. She told me she’d get an answer out of you today..."
"Of course she did," I mutter, shaking my head. "She's relentless."
"I love her," Andy says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Me too," I admit, staring out at the skyline. "I love you too, by the way."
"I know," he says, and the way he says it, like it's the most natural thing in the world, makes my chest feel full. "I love you too."
I close my eyes, leaning my head back against the couch as the city lights blur beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I miss you," I whisper, the words barely audible in the quiet suite.
"I'll see you after you get home tomorrow night," he says softly, his voice a warm current across the miles. "Oh, and one more thing before I let you go."
"What's that?" I ask, already anticipating his usual playful teasing.
There's a pause, just long enough for me to sit up straighter, the whiskey glass forgotten as my heart begins to hammer against my ribs.
"I found out who broke into my apartment."
Chapter 37
Namaste, Andrew
Andrew
IstayatVince'shouse the entire time he's away in New York.
For weeks, coffee waits alone in the kitchen. I run alone around Vince's neighborhood, just as I promised him, steering clear of Warner Park... just in case someone really is out to get me.
My days fall into a quiet rhythm. I work, grab lunch with Cynthia or Gary occasionally, hang out with Aubrey when he's free, teach my classes, then come back to Vince's house—alone.
When we first met, Vince teased me about my routines. "Sounds really lonely," he'd said.
It doesn't hit me until now how true that was. Loneliness is all I've ever known. I don't realize how much brighter life could be with someone like Vince in it. Now, I can't stop comparing the way things are to the way things could be with him around.
Running around Vince's neighborhood isn't even close to running in Warner Park with him, but it's starting to feel like a routine again. Almost there.Tomorrow, Vince is coming home. Butterflies flutter in my stomach since the moment I wake up. I can't wait to see him.
I wonder where he's running in New York, if he thinks of me during his mornings the way I think of him. Three hours ahead of me... it's weird how my brain adjusts, constantly calculating the time difference, guessing what he might be doing.
My lungs burn as I finish my morning run, gasping for air that never seems to fill them completely. But it's not the exercise that drives me now—it's a decision forming like a fire in my gut.
Today. I'll move into Vince's house today.
A surprise waiting for him when he lands tonight.
This is my answer, unspoken until now. Before his trip, when he asked me to stay, I hesitated. The words "let me think about it" tumbled out, protective armor around my heart. But these weeks alone in his house have taught me something profound: it's okay to fall, to trust, to be vulnerable. Vince will catch me. He'll catch us. My priorities have realigned themselves like planets finding their orbit around his sun. There's nothing to fear in loving him completely.
Thedrivetomyapartment blurs past my window. When I park and approach the door, my key slides into the lockwith unsettling ease. No resistance. No satisfying click of metal meeting metal.
I freeze.
It’s the same feeling I had in my gut weeks ago.
I locked this door. The memory is crystal clearthis time—my fingers turning the key, the solid resistance that confirmed my safety. But now? My mind flashes to the last time I entered this space, to overturned furniture and chaos splattered across my walls. What fresh hell awaits me behind this door?
