Andrew Parker... Goddammit, that amazing man is everywhere I go. It feels like the universe is taunting me, forcing me to confront just how deeply he's embedded himself into every corner of my life.
I think I'll be fine, think I'll adjust. I just need to get through these two weeks, fourteen measly days. But Andy? He's everywhere.
He's in the Toy Story reel playing above the Disney store on Broadway, making me laugh all over again about the stupid jokesImade when we first met. He's in the sharp lines of thecity's architecture, the library that is everything he said it would be. He's in the way the morning sky looks when I run alone in Central Park, wishing like hell he was beside me like always.
I miss him.
It's only been five days, and I'm already unraveling. I try to remind myself that this trip is important. My career is important. But the truth is nothing feels as important as Andy.
That man is my heart.
I can still see his face from the airport, the way he smiledat me through his tears, trying so hard to be strong. Hetoldme he's proud of me, says I deserve this, that everything I've worked for is finally paying off. He doesn't have to say he'll miss me; I already know.
I walkedaway from him,goton that plane, andcriedlike a goddamn baby during takeoff. Silent tears, my hand covering my face while I prayedno one noticed.
The older woman sitting beside medid.
She reachedover andheldmy hand without saying a word. Itwassuch a kind, unexpected gesture that it onlymademe cry harder.
I'm a mess. A hopeless, bleeding-heart mess.
Andy is right, this trip is good for me. For us. But Jesus, it feels like someone has taken my heart out of my chest and left it back in LA.
"Dad."
Tina's sharp voice slices through my thoughts, yanking me back to the crowded restaurant.
I blink at her. "What?"
She sighs heavily, her arms crossing over her chest. "I said I want the ahi salad, but you're staring into space like a war vet having a flashback."
Before I can respond, Malia leans toward Tina, stage-whispering, "Dad's losing it. I think he'sfinallygoing through menopause."
I groan, lowering my forehead to the table. "You're fucking unbelievable. How am I losing it?"
Malia smirks, her phone already in hand. "You've been spacey since we got here, Dad. You cried when Tina dropped her hotdog down the storm drain on the way to the subway yesterday,old man. You're fucking losing it. Something's obviously up with you."
Tina snorts, not bothering to look up from her phone.
"It was a waste of a perfectly good hotdog," I mutter defensively. "And maybe it's your obsession with me that you should be worried about. Mind your business, Malia."
She laughs to herself, clearly not buying it, but drops the subject. For now. I know she's probably already texted Andy about the hotdog incident. Great.My heart races, a frantic drum against my ribs that has nothing to do with the restaurant's bustling atmosphere and everything to do with the way Malia's eyes narrow at me across the table. She's too perceptive, that one—always has been—seeing through my flimsy attempts at normalcy like they're made of glass.
I need to tell them about him. About us. But every time I work up the nerveon this trip, I chicken out.
Tina slams her phone onto the table dramatically. "David hasn't commented on my Snap, and it's been, like, fivefuckingminutes."
"That's because he's a loser," Malia says without missing a beat. "And you're too young to have a boyfriend anyway."
Tina glares daggers at her sister. "I'm sixteen, you moron. Not twelve."
Malia snickers. "When David came to school with thatstupidhaircut for picture day last week? I died."
"It's not stupid!" Tina snaps, sitting up straighter, her shoulders squared. "It's on trend!"
"On trend?" Malia repeats, the words dripping with mockery. "Get the fuck out of here. You don't even know what that means."
"Quit being such a bitch, Malia!"
