Chapter 15

The TV was on, but Andrew wasn’t really watching the black-and-white science fiction movie he’d turned on. He’d texted Cameron a couple of times, but figured any more would’ve looked desperate. Da Vinci headbutted him before stepping onto his lap, probably pointing out the first two texts were plenty desperate enough on their own.

Heather had apologized and apologized — she felt terrible. But while Andrew was a little pissed at her, he knew it wasn’t really her fault. Cameron was unpredictable. Or at least he hadn’t figured out how to predict her.

He’d just been in such a stupidly good mood after she’d smiled at him in bed this morning. Smiled! He didn’t know her that well and hadn’t known her for that long, but he’d made her orgasm twice and never saw her smile until they woke up together this morning. It felt like ... like they were moving toward something, not ending something.

Andrew still couldn’t understand what Heather could’ve possibly said to set her off. Heather couldn’t either. She told him that she just was blabbering like an idiot about how she shouldn’t have come in, and then Cameron asked her if he went by his middle name.

Is that what did it? That I go by Andrew but she’s been calling me Henry?

Henry was his first name. But he hadn’t gone by that since ... since he was 8. Almost nobody called him Henry anymore, even his sisters.

He liked it, that’s why he hadn’t corrected her. He didn’t think of himself as Henry anymore, but when she called him that? He liked the way it felt. So much that when she said it during her orgasm...

Ugh. Okay. It was stupid. I gave her a fake name to start, then I let her call me Henry. I guess maybe she felt like I was just lying to her again and again?

That couldn’t possibly be it, he was sure ... but it was the only thing he could think of. He thought he’d at least managed to learn a working vocabulary for speaking Cameron, but she’d proved him wrong yet again.

Why did I take the shower dammit! Who cares if your fucking hair doesn’t look quite right, NOBODY FUCKING CARES!

Cameron certainly didn’t care. Maybe it was the shower? Did she think he was like, weirdly vain? Or was she just done with her Cheerios and left without thinking anything was wrong?

Honestly, that hadn’t seemed out of the realm of possibility. But now that it was after 6 and she had yet to respond to his texts ... it felt unlikely. Whatever the threshold for ghosting was, he was pretty sure they were past it.

Andrew sighed, stroking Da Vinci’s fur while the cat purred on his lap. He didn’t know when the “late set” at Moonlight started but—

KNOCK-KNOCK KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK ... KNOCK KNOCK.

Andrew looked up from the couch where he was sitting.

Is it her? No ... she doesn’t knock. But, maybe...

Da Vinci put up no resistance in hopping off Andrew’s lap, diving straight under the couch. He knew a knock on the door meant a visitor.

Trying not to get his hopes up, Andrew swung the door open — and nearly swallowed his tongue.

“Surprise!”

Mal stood on his doorstep, holding up a McDonald’s bag and wearing a plastered-on grin. It wasn’t one of her patented electrically powered smiles — it was forced, like she knew this was not exactly cool, but she was doing her best to put a casual face on it anyway. “Can I come in?”

Andrew stared at his wife in utter shock. Cameron had completely driven from his mind the anxiousness about Mal being back in town that had taken up residence there not so long ago. Now it all came flooding back.

And she’s standing on my doorstep.

She was still smiling, illuminated only by the light leaving the living room on a night cloudy enough to obscure the moon. There was a pleading in her hazel eyes that said she had no delusions about whether a reasonable man would let her in. But they both knew that when it came to her, he had never been a reasonable man. Especially when caught flat-footed.

After the few seconds of shock wore off, Andrew turned and let her pass.

What the fuck is she doing here? What the fuck am I doing letting her in? Just tell her no! It’s not too late now, you can still do it, goddammit!

With a will of its own, his hand closed the door behind her, and he watched her while she walked to the kitchen table as if she’d been there a million times before. She was wearing tight, stylish dark blue jeans and a silky, cream-colored blouse with black, professional flats. Her hair was down, pouring down half her back — a melting chocolate-brown. Her body looked as trim as ever, and his eyes followed her like a reflex, settling on her athletic, taut behind before she turned around to see if he would join her.

Snapping out of it, he did, taking one of the three seats at the small, round table. Their divorce papers were still sitting on it.

Did Cameron see the divorce papers? Did she get freaked out over that? Why would that freak her out? She knew about Mal, didn’t she?

Mal didn’t show if she took any notice of what the papers were, she just slid them to the side and pulled out a wrapped-up burger, putting it in front of him — smiling all the while.

“Just cheese, no worries,” she said. “Not unlike yourself,” she added with a wink.

He gave a thin smile back, trying to catch up with what was suddenly happening.

Setting a chicken sandwich box in front of herself, Mal took a seat next to him, then snagged a couple of fries from a container she put between them.

“You okay?” she said with a sidelong glance after finishing chewing.

He wobbled his head from side to side noncommittally, delaying having to answer so he could snap himself out of his own thoughts and focus on what was in front of him.

“Y-yeah ... yeah. Sorry. Just ... yeah. Hi.” He smiled at her, but it felt as forced as hers had looked.

“Hey, I know I shouldn’t be here,” she said, bowing her head. “I just figured, we’re adults, right? I’m back in town now, so let’s ... talk. And see where things go, yeah?”

He took a bite of his burger. She’d remembered he wasn’t a big fan of condiments. Of course she had, he thought. She’d always teased him about being a plain vanilla kind of guy. She just usually wasn’t referring to food.

“So ... you and Paul not hitting the clubs tonight?” She winked at him and he snorted, more genuinely amused now.

“Yeah, you know, figured we’d give the ladies a break. They can only handle so much of this,” he said, gesturing at his body. “As you well know,” he muttered as an afterthought.

He immediately regretted saying it. For a fraction of a second, her expression changed before reverting to the professional smile she’d apparently painted on for the night. But for that fraction, he recognized the pain of guilt flash across her face.

“So ... you were at a bachelorette party?” he said, trying to move the conversation along and away from his barb.

She nodded, swallowing before answering. “Yeah, Nikki’s getting married next weekend. You remember Nikki? My friend from—”

“from that law firm you worked for for a while, yeah. Sure, I remember Nikki.” He hadn’t recognized Nikki on the dancefloor that night, although that wasn’t where his attention had been, to be fair.

It made a more genuine smile form on Mal’s face.

You think I don’t remember every single detail about you? You know I do. Maybe you just want to prove it to yourself. That nothing’s changed. Or at least that I haven’t. Have you...?

Unexpectedly, she set down her sandwich, eyeing him seriously.

“Umm ... what’s up?” he said, freezing his burger halfway to his mouth.

“It’s ... it’s gonna be awkward until I say what I came here to say, so I should just get it out of the way, okay?”

He felt the blood drain from his face and he set his burger down gingerly.

At least I’m finding out her agenda sooner rather than later, I guess.

“I’ve had a lot of time to... reflect on... us,” she said after taking a breath. Andrew wasn’t sure if she was launching into something she’d rehearsed, but it was definitely something she’d thought a lot about, that much was clear. “I was awful to you. I’m back in town now, and I came here to say that ... I’m sorry.”

She reached for his hand and he let her hold it, too stunned to do anything else.

She’s here to ... apologize?

This ... this is what he’d been hoping for, deep down, wasn’t it? That someday she’d just show up at his door and ... want everything to get back to normal? To how things were before she cheated on him? Before she treated him like he was nothing?

Before I fell apart?

Andrew didn’t even know what he was feeling inside yet. He was just ... blank. Numb. Completely unsure of what was supposed to be there.

The burnt hazel of Mal’s eyes were flecked with darker brown, like a unique, mesmerizing kaleidoscope that always enraptured him, adding to whatever she was saying. He couldn’t remember how long he’d spent looking into them over the years, memorizing where each fleck was.

They were right where he’d left them.

“I took you for granted, took everything we had for granted,” she said in a quiet voice, not breaking eye contact. “I wish I had an excuse, something that was better than I just...” she looked for the right words, “was an asshole. But I don’t have one. You deserve so much better than that. Anybody does, anybody deserves more than the zero respect I treated you with. But especially you do.”

Andrew tried not to look away — or maybe he was trying to? He wasn’t sure, just that he was stuck, unable to think about anything or look anywhere else. Tears started to well up at the bottom of his vision.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. From the bottom of my heart. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t want you to forgive me — you shouldn’t. I can’t take it back. I wish I could. All I can do is say I’m sorry and tell you that I wanna be better.

“I’m gonna be better.”

She squeezed his hand, like she was making him a promise.

He felt a tear fall. She didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at it. The paint-by-numbers smile was gone, and her eyes were glistening, too.

Did she think this was going to change something? She remembers my cheeseburger preferences and says she’s sorry?

“Thanks,” he mumbled, not sure what else to say.

She removed her hand and wiped her eyes, taking a second to put her mask back on while she picked up her sandwich again.

They made small talk as they ate, gradually getting less awkward. She could still make Andrew smile in the most unexpected ways. She reminded him of his sister like that. Mal had always seen him in a way nobody else had. Nothing sent a charge through him like them noticing the same thing together that no one else did — and then sharing a laugh over it.