Andie laughed, forgetting for the moment how irritated she was.
“Alright, get back to your invoices. I’ll see you in a bit. Love you.”
“Love you too,” she said.
She felt her irritation give way to guilt as she ended the call, staring at her computer screen, at the “invoices” she was working on. Colin had no idea she was writing a novel. She hadn’t told him. It just seemed like such a fanciful thing to do, to devote hours of her time to something that, as of right now, was nothing more than a glorified hobby. She could be doing so many other worthwhile and productive things with her free time. And while there were moments she felt guilty over being deceitful about it with her boyfriend of a year and a half, she always rationalized by focusing on the fact that she hadn’t told anyone, so it wasn’t like she was specifically excluding Colin.
Andie sat back against the couch and rubbed her eyes roughly with the heels of her hands. “Damn it,” she said as she pushed the computer off her lap, grabbing the mug from the coffee table as she stood.
She went into the kitchen and made herself another cup of tea before returning to her spot on the couch, taking a slow slip as she tried to get back into the frame of mind she was in only moments before. But even as she pulled the laptop back onto her thighs, Andie knew it was pointless. The moment was gone.
With an annoyed huff, she pushed the laptop off her legs again and pulled her knees into her chest, wrapping one arm around them and bringing the mug back to her lips. Two entire days, locked in a small space with him again. She could barely survive ten minutes last time.
Andie dropped her head back and closed her eyes. Maybe she was overreacting. Honestly, if she felt stupid explaining why she didn’t like Chase to Colin, then there was a good chance her reasons for not liking him actually were stupid. Plus, it was possible that she had caught him on a bad day that night in the cellar. Lord knows she wasn’t at her best at that particular moment either. Maybe he’d be different. Maybe she’d be different. Maybe they would have a decent time.
Or maybe she’d be stuck in the confines of a car with an obnoxious, caustic, antagonistic moron for two entire days.
She exhaled heavily as she powered down the laptop before bringing it back to her bedroom. She had been looking forward to two whole days alone. While solitude made some people uncomfortable, like Tracey, who would turn on every television she owned to simulate a house full of people when she was by herself, Andie relished her alone time. Whether that was the result of being an only child, or growing up in a house where it was customary for everyone to be off in separate corners of the house doing their own thing for hours at a time, she didn’t know. What she did know was that her two days of pleasant seclusion had just slipped right through her fingers.
What irritated her more though was that she had planned the whole trip already: when she would leave, where she would stop, when she would sleep, even what music she would listen to. But that was all up in the air now that there were two people involved.
Few things made her more uncomfortable than the unknown.
She grabbed her iPod and put it in the dock, starting the playlist she had titled “Mellow” and singing softly to herself in an effort to snap out of it as she rummaged through the kitchen cabinets, collecting the things she’d need to make dinner.
A little while later, she had just finished dishing everything out onto plates when she heard her front door open. Seven-thirty on the nose, she thought with a smile, bringing the plates to the table. She couldn’t see him yet, but she heard the sounds of him by the door. She knew he’d be taking his shoes off and placing them on the side of the entryway. She knew he’d take off his jacket and drape it over the small half wall. She knew he’d come over and kiss her, and tell her everything smelled delicious. And after dinner, he’d help her clear the table while giving her little