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Andrea pulled a fresh tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t review his marketing campaigns before he launches them.”
“But this is different. He’s afraid that your story will hurt the Monarchs.”
Andrea pulled her fingers through her hair, cupping her head between her hands. “I’m tired of the team coming between us. Everything was fine before he got his job back.”
Faith spread her hands. “With the man comes his job.”
Andrea pushed off the sofa. She stalked to the window overlooking the fire escape. “I come with a job, too. He didn’t have any problem with it when he wanted my help stopping the Insider and Gerry. He loved my job then.”
“What do you want him to do?”
Andrea folded her arms, consoling herself as she thought of what she couldn’t have. The words came haltingly. “I want him to want all of me. The woman he comes to when he needs help. The friend to whom he confides his secrets. The lover he holds in his arms.” She turned from the window. “And the reporter who writes about the Monarchs. Am I wrong to want that?”
“I want one of those, too.”
Andrea returned to the sofa. She dropped beside Faith. “Should I have shown him Barron’s feature?”
Faith put her arm around Andrea’s shoulders. “You have two choices. You can either show him the feature before it’s printed on Sunday or you can ask him to trust you.”
“I already asked him to trust me. He said no.”
“Is this issue worth breaking up your relationship?”
Another lump formed in Andrea’s throat making her voice husky. “Without trust, we don’t have a relationship.”
“Then you have your answer.”
Andrea pulled a tissue from the box to dry her tears. “I hate it when you do your Yoda impersonation. Why can’t you ever give a straight answer? ‘Yes, you did the right thing.’ Or ‘No, you didn’t.’”
Faith gave Andrea’s shoulders a squeeze before releasing her. “Only you know what’s right for you. No one else can answer that.”
Tiffany hopped into the living room, bathed and dressed for bed in a butter yellow cotton gown. Constance, wearing dark gray sweatpants and a silver Monarchs jersey, followed her daughter. Her honey blond hair was pinned on top of her head. Loose locks floated around her face.
When Tiffany saw Andrea, she slowed to a walk. The little girl placed her small, warm hand on Andrea’s cheek. The gesture was similar to her mother’s. “You sad?”
Andrea’s expression softened. “A little.”
“Want Bear?”
Andrea smiled at the offer of the little girl’s stuffed toy. She pulled Tiffany onto her lap. “No, I’ll just hug you.”
Tiffany giggled as Andrea cuddled her tight.
Constance lowered herself to the love seat across from her roommates. Her eyes were wide with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Andrea loosened her hold on Tiffany and squared her shoulders. “Troy and I broke up.”
Constance’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry. That explains why he looked sad when I mentioned your name.”
Andrea’s lips parted with surprise—and hope. She squelched both. “I’m sorry, too.” She looked down at Tiffany. The toddler seemed drowsy. “We need to find more positive relationships so this little one doesn’t think all men are D-O-G-S.”
Tiffany perked up. “D-O-G spells dog.”
Andrea stiffened. Constance smothered her laughter behind her right palm.
Faith arched a brow. “Next time, spell Rottweiler.”
Constance’s laughter broke free.
