"Then explain it to me," he presses, his eyes searching mine. "Explain what's so complicated that you have to throw away what we have."
I look away, focusing on the condensation rings my glass has left on the table. When I don't answer immediately, he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against mine.
"Just one more chance," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. "Christmas is coming. Let's get through the holidays together, and then... then if you still feel this way, we can talk. No pressure. Just... please, Andrew."
My heart sinks, a heavy weight in my chest. I want to say no, to stand up and walk away and finally be done with this, but his pleading eyes, the tears shimmering in them, pin me in place. Ithink of the holidays, of being alone while everyone else is with someone, and a wave of cowardice washes over me.
"I..." I start, but the word dies in my throat. I can't do it. I can't be the bad guy. Not here, not now.
He sees my hesitation and squeezes my hand tighter, his touch a desperate anchor. "Please,Andrew. Just until after Christmas."
I look away, focusing on the salt shaker on the table, the crystals catching the light. My resolve crumbles, and I hear myself say the words I know I'll regret: "Okay, Ted."
The relief that washes over his face is immediate, his shoulders relaxing, a small smile touching his lips. "Thank you," he says, squeezing my hand. "I won't bring Vince up again. I'll let it go. You can figure things out, we'll be fine. You won't regret this, I promise."
But as I sit there, letting him hold my hand across the table, I already know that I will.
Chapter 18
The Final Episode
Andrew
"Hey,Andy?"
Vince's voice carries a seriousness, an uncharacteristically ominous tone that immediately catches my attention. I'm bent over, retying my shoe midway through our morning run, the laces frayed from constant use. For a brief moment, heat floods my cheeks... has he caught me admiring his calves again? The way they flex with each powerful stride, the definition in his muscles as he runs ahead of me, effortlessly commanding the trail. I can feel my pulse quicken, and I hope he attributes my flushed face to exertion rather than my wandering thoughts.
"Yeah?"
"I made a dinner reservation at Villa tonight. You know, that new Italian place on Ventura."
The name Villa immediately brings to mind images of white tablecloths, flickering candlelight, and waiters in crisp black aprons. It's the kind of place where a single dinner costs more than my weekly grocery budget, the kind of place people go for anniversaries or to propose. My mind races with implications, with questions I'm not sure I want answered.
"Oh, okay. For Sam? Are you finally going to tell her about Hawaii?" I force a smile while standing back up, rolling my ankles a bit before we both start running again.
The crisp morning air makes our breath visible, a sign of the changing season. Each puff of white vapor hangs momentarily before dissipating, like unspoken words between us. I can feel the slight ache in my thighs as we resume our pace, the familiar burn that comes from pushing myself.
Vince wears a strange look on his face, one I can't quite read.
His usual easy smile is replaced by something more guarded, his brow slightly furrowed as if he's carefully considering each word before speaking. The morning sunlight filters through the trees, casting shadows that dance across his features, making his expression even harder to decipher.
"Not exactly. I was actually wondering if you're free."
I nearly stumble over an uneven patch of pavement, catching myself at the last second. The question hangs between us as I turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Are you asking me out to dinner? At a fancy restaurant?"
The morning air feels suddenly colder, or maybe it's just the chill that runs down my spine at his invitation. This is crossing a line, isn't it? Dinner alone, at a place like Villa... it sounds suspiciously like a date, and we both have partners who would not appreciate this development. And Sam... Sam seems wonderful, from what little I know of her.
"Yeah, I guess I am," he says with a laugh, but his eyes don't quite match the humor in his voice. There's something else there, something searching and uncertain that makes my heart beat a little faster. He glances away, focusing on the path ahead as if the cracked sidewalk has suddenly become fascinating.
I search for a witty response but come up empty, my usual arsenal of comebacks completely depleted. My mind is too busy processing the implications, too busy imagining what it would be like to sit across from him in that intimate setting, sharing breadsticks and conversation while the rest of the world fades away.
"Why?"
The question hangs between us, my breath catching as I process the implications. His voice carries that casual tone he adopts when discussing matters he finds both exciting and nerve-wracking, a combination I've come to recognize over our months of runs and shared jokes. The morning sun filters through the sparse canopy of trees, casting dappled shadows across the path that suddenly feels more significant, like we're crossing some invisible threshold.
"The shoot wraps up today. We're filming the 10th episode this morning."
