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“Yeah.” I cleared my throat and his eyes flashed up to my face. “I’ll nap for a bit then head home.”
Andrew raised an eyebrow.
“I’ll be fine. I’ll call a Lyft.” He continued to look, eyebrows raised. “Seriously. Stop hovering.” I flapped my hands at him.
He sighed. “Okay, fine. But I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
At first, I thought I was dreaming. Andrew was talking to someone, pausing, and then speaking again. As my mind tried to cut through the fog of sleep, I realized that he must be speaking to someone on the phone. And what I heard perked me up immediately.
“Michael, she’s been sleeping on my couch for the last two hours as if she’s been drugged.” He paused. “No, she hasn’t actually been drugged. She got a charley horse. I just barely got her in the door before she fell asleep.” I could almost feel the hardening of his voice, as if being exposed to too much sun left him leathery and weathered. “She’s your fiancée; you’re not gonna come get her?”
Andrew listened for a moment longer before he said, “No, don’t worry. I’ll take care of her.” Though I couldn’t really see him, I got the sense that the conversation ended. A long sigh followed.
I struggled to sit up, which Andrew’s sonar picked up, of course. He bounded over to the couch and held a hand out. I ignored it and pushed myself to an upright position. “How are you feeling?”
“I take it your conversation with Michael went well?”
He sighed again, running a hand over his head. “He said he’s stuck at the store.”
I looked at my watch. “Sounds about right.”
“His fiancée is in pain. I can’t imagine anything more important than that.”
I shrugged, relieved to find that my leg only hurt a little. “He’s a manager, Minnie. I’m used to it.”
“See, that’s the thing. You shouldn’t be.”
I stared back at him, feeling the fires of rage and indignation spiking in my blood. Despite this, I said nothing for a while. Give vulnerability a chance, something within me said. Tell him how you’re feeling.
Fuck it, I thought. Why not?
I sighed. “Honestly, I got a less-than-welcome-home response from Michael.” I willed myself to stop fidgeting. “He didn’t seem very happy that I was home.”
Andrew tilted his head a little bit, frowning. “What made you think that?”
I shrugged, a blush blooming in my cheeks. “I told him I was home and he was like, ‘oh, okay.’ After I mentioned to him that it didn’t seem like he was happy about it, he perked up a little, but not much.”
Andrew nodded, lips tight. “I’m sorry, Ace.”
I laughed, a humorless little hmph of a noise. “What are you sorry for? You’re not my fiancé who’s not even excited to see me.” I shook my head, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “What if I’m not good enough for him?”
“Not good enough for him?” Andrew’s voice hardened. “In what way?”
“What if he thinks I’m too needy? Or what if he’s not attracted to me anymore?” I looked down at my interlinked fingers. “What if I made him wait too long, and now he’s given up?”
“If he has suddenly lost his attraction or love for you because you made him ‘wait too long,’ whatever the hell that means, then maybe it’s a good thing you two aren’t married yet.”
I looked at Andrew, the connection between our eyes staving off the impending loneliness. “What do you mean?”
“Ace, you’re worth waiting for.” He met my eyes, jaw clenched and eyes tight. “You’re worth loving. You know that, right?”
“Sure,” I said, though my stomach flip-flopped.
“Are you saying sure because you believe it, or because you want me to believe that you believe it?”
I shrugged. “Both.”
He sighed, long and low in the way that he did when he was impatient. “Ace.”
