Page 79 of Under One Roof

“Come here. Come here.” I drag her chair next to mine and wrap her up in my arms, letting her soak my T-shirt with her tears. It’s a long time before she catches her breath and quiets enough for me to ask, “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your head. I thought this is what you wanted.”

She rakes her teeth over her lower lip. “This is what I’ve always wanted. But I also don’t want to leave you.”

I’m such a fucking asshole for the relief I feel.

Just the absolute worst kind of garbage person.

So I resolve to make sure she does not sense one ounce of hesitation from me. “No, no, you have to. This is your dream.”

She gazes up at me with such tenderness, my heart breaks. “But what about you? What about the kids?”

“This isn’t about us. It’s aboutyou.”

“But I lo—I can’t leave y’all.”

That’s not exactly what I wanted her to say, but I see the genuine worry in her eyes, and it tugs at something deep inside me. I don’t want her to be concerned. At least, not about this. About us.

I know I have to be a fucking man about this and put her needs and desires ahead of my own, even though I really don’t want to. It’s easier to pout and growl and fucking stomp away. Hell, it’s easier to never even get involved in the first place. To not feel anything to begin with, but the day I met Andi shot those plans to shit, and now I have to face this.

With a goddamn smile on my face.

Or…you know…not a glaring frown.

“If this is what you want, I’ll figure something out,” I say, making my voice as steady as possible. “But do you still want to be with me?”

She nods, and I press a quick kiss to her forehead. One of reassurance, though everything in my body fights me. I don’t want her to go. Who wants the love of their goddamn life to go across the country?

I don’t, but I know she’ll regret this forever if she doesn’t.I’llregret it forever if she doesn’t.

With some quick thinking, I sputter out a few ideas for a plan. “School will be out soon, and maybe it’s time I give the kids more responsibility. They can stay home by themselves for a few hours after school since they’ve been begging me to let them anyway. I can ask my brother or sister to take them overnight or something. Or maybe one of Ian’s kids can sleep here on nights I’m not home. Clara or Marianne.”

She wrinkles her nose as if she doesn’t like the idea, but I don’t know what else to do. I’m certainly not going to hire another nanny. That just feels wrong. As if Andi is replaceable. She is not.

“I will figure it out,” I say again, more forcefully this time, and she inhales a shaky breath, her eyes going watery again, and I might throw up for real. “What is it, sweetheart?”

She sniffles and rubs the back of her hand across her cheek, catching a tear. “I was nervous to tell you. I was scared about what you might say.”

“Is that what last night was about?”

When she nods, I expel a rough breath of my own and pull her to me, sitting her on my lap. Knowing about her past and how she’s been on her own in terms of support, I hate that she might have thought I wouldn’t encourage her. Or worse, hold her back.

Obviously, I want her to go. I only ever want her to be happy, but I am happy having her here with me in our home.

Though I don’t tell her that.

I couldn’t.

Instead, I comb her hair back, holding it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck before tugging the elastic off her wrist to tie it in place. Then I drag my knuckles over her wet cheeks and wipe my thumbs under her eyes, drying her off before holding her jaw.

“You’re amazing at what you do, and the world will be better if you’re able to use your talent. You deserve this chance.” I kiss her, speaking my next words against her lips because she has to know the truth. “And I do love you, Andi. I love you and want you to be happy. I want you to follow your dreams.”

That sets her off on another round of crying, and our kisses turn salty, her whimpers coming on so strong that she has to pull away to breathe properly. She slips off my lap to get a tissue, and I use the time to retrieve the photo I framed this morning. After all the pieces of herself she’s left around the house these last few weeks, I suppose I should give it to her instead of hanging it up on the wall like I planned.

It’s the four of us—Andi, Logan, Grace, and me—at Hershey, all smiles and laughter, and I’m actually glad to gift it to her since she’ll be leaving.

I set the picture down on the counter in front of her and then, without a word, stagger out of the kitchen, needing space to process everything.

Upstairs, I turn on the shower and step under the hot spray. I let the water run over me, washing away the tension in my muscles, but it does nothing to ease the turmoil in my mind. I can’t stop thinking about Andi, about her leaving, about how much I want her to stay. I turn our conversation over and over in my mind, trying to figure out how I can make this work without her. I don’t even know how long she’ll be gone and she hasn’t left yet, but already, I feel myself battening down the hatches, returning to old habits.

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