Page 107 of The Bodyguard Affair
I snort. “I miss that, too.”
“And all the days exploring Ottawa when we were new to the city.”
“Remember the time we accidentally took the wrong bus to the Bayshore mall and ended up in Orléans?”
She snorts, finally kicking off her shoes. “Oh my god. Don’t remind me.” After waiting at the bus stop for forty-five minutes, we gave up and took an Uber back downtown and got gross ramen at some random dive.
We spend a solid hour on the couch reminiscing about old times before Hunter picks her up.
When he arrives, she spins around. For a heartbeat, we watch each other, slightly teary, before she comes in for a hug. It’s not just a quick, casual, see-you-later hug. It’s heavier. We hold it for a long time, because I think we both know this is it.
I settle into her embrace, our friendship playing out in my mind. At the same time, I’m starting to realize that not all friendships are built to last the long haul. Like romantic love, friendships evolve, too. Sometimes too many things happen. Too many hurts. Sometimes you lose what you had in common to begin with. Or your lives simply aren’t in sync anymore, causing you to drift away. And that’s okay…I’ll always treasure her role in my life—making me fall in love with this city. This job. Pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Despite everything that happened, Laine was one of my best friends. I still care about her deeply. That will never change, even if things will never be like they were.
• • •
I save the hardest conversation for last: Gretchen. A couple months ago, I’d have rather defected to another country than have this discussion. But thanks to Nolan, I feel brave.
I wait a week or so until the media frenzy is over. This week, they’ve moved on to a new scandal.
Despite the slowed media attention, my presence still turns heads. The moment I walk through the staff door, it’s clear everyone knows. It’s a lion’s den of judgmental eyes and whispers, reminiscent of that first day the headlines exploded. But today, I hold my head high and walk with purpose.
Nolan’s words echo in my mind, giving me strength. Ishouldn’t be ashamed of my writing or my books. I’ve brought happiness and escape to so many people. There’s been a lot of luck and timing in my success, but I’ve worked hard. I’ve written those books, and people have connected with them in ways I never expected. They’ve found joy, hope, and even solace in my words.
When I step into Gretchen’s office, she’s reclining in her chair, her brow raised like she’s been expecting me.
“Eric and I are separating,” she blurts out.
“Wait—what? Is this about the book?” My voice cracks with the shock of her words.
She nods, her face a mask of tired resignation. “Yes.”
“Gretchen. Wait. I can explain. I am so, so sorry for all of this. Mostly I’m sorry for lying to you and to everyone about being the author. I was…embarrassed. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I promise I was never harboring any weird fantasy or crush. It was just something that was easy for me to write. Either way, I understand that this is detrimental to Eric’s shot at reelection later this year, so I’m going to resign.”
She holds her hand up. “I read it. Your book,” she says. The room goes quiet, except the thud of my heart. “I’ve never read anything like it.”
I lower my head, the shame creeping back in.
“I’ve never read a romance, especially not one with steam,” she adds. “And I found myself bingeing it in one sitting. After it was done, I was crying. Not because I thought anything in there was real. The characters were all completely different, which I appreciate. But what got me was that I’d never read about a man who was so considerate, so caring. I’d never read a description ofsuch sex or a man putting a woman first in bed. Those things just aren’t in movies and TV. And I realized that Eric and I had that.”
“You absolutely did.”
She sniffles. “But we haven’t in a long time. Over the past four years, we stopped putting each other first. We stopped prioritizing uninterrupted quality time, without one of our phones going off and distracting us. I stopped laughing at his jokes. We stopped touching. And mostly, we stopped dreaming together. And before you ask, we did try. We knew what the issues were, and we couldn’t fix them all these years. No matter what we did, we ended up at square one, every damn time. And it’s exhausting, you know?”
I sit there in complete silence, taking it all in. Of all the things I expected her to say, this was not it. “You and Eric seemed so in love. I had no idea you felt so alone.”
“I thought maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough. Or maybe it was me not putting in the effort. But I realized after reading your book that the reason we couldn’t fix things was simple: We’re not in love like we used to be. At least, not in the way either of us wants to be loved in the long run.
“I want what’s in this book to last. And I know it’s fiction. I know it’s an idealistic portrayal of love. I know the characters will go on to have struggles offstage that we don’t see. But I just can’t give up hope and settle. I don’t want that for myself, or for him. So I decided I’m moving out by the end of the month,” she continues, a hint of finality in her voice.
“Really?”
“I want you to come with me,” Gretchen says, her gaze steady.
“Wait, I’m not fired?”
“Why would I fire you for writing a romance novel? You’re the best PA I’ve ever had, Andi.”
