Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-eight

Tragan spent the next week apart from Andy--but not for lack of trying.  By the second day after their breakup, he missed her terribly.  Though his days were busy juggling two separate remodel projects, he was never able to block out thoughts of her.  Wondering how she was, what she was doing.  If he could only hear from her, surely he’d feel better.  So, in a particularly weak moment, he had texted her:
 
Hi. Just wanted to check on
u
. 

After that failed to get a response throughout the night, he followed it up in the morning with this message:
 
Im sorry for everything. U r the most awesome girl.  I want u to be happy.

His phone buzzed about ten minutes later, as he was pulling
a fresh tee shirt over his head.  Tragan lurched for it.

You broke up with m
e
, was all Andy wrote.

Not sure how to respond, Tragan typed back:
 
Ok, but I still care about u.
 
His gut dropped when he read her response. 

Leave me alon
e
.

A fierce
wave of sadness crashed through him.  Leave her alone?  Of course he should--in theory--but he couldn’t do it.  Especially if his hope was to keep the lines of communication open between them somehow, and then get her back.  Suddenly panic struck him.  What if she weren’t going to London at all?  What if instead she’d run right back to Brad?  Shit, what if this was all for nothing?

It had to be a massive coincidence when Tragan received a text message from Ethan that same day, which answe
red the question.  After informing Tragan of his new mailing address, Ethan added
:
Really happy that Andy is coming.  Glad you were able to talk her into it.

Tragan’s reaction
should have been relief.  Apparently his “plan”--or rather Kathryn Delphin’s plan--had worked. Andy was leaving Boston, heading to London, attempting Dr. Strand’s research study.  Technically that was a good thing, yet was Tragan supposed to be happy about it?  Because all he felt was regretful.  Of course, if he gave into his feelings and told Andy he still loved her--or, even bolder, tried now to stop her from going--it would defeat the whole point of this. 

Still…

As hours stretched on without another word from her, Tragan was severely doubting the logic of what he’d done.  How could he ever win her back if she refused to speak to him again?  He had to see her.  Nearly four days had passed since their breakup.  Four days that he’d been mostly away from the apartment, at work or crashing at Matt’s.  Now he couldn’t take the loss of her anymore.  If he could just
see
Andy, in person, he could know she was okay. 

Though, that wasn’t
the whole truth.  Selfishly, Tragan also wanted to remind her that he existed.  To try to rekindle in Andy some feeling for him.  Yes, it was a contradictory, asshole move, considering he’d been the one to break things off, but he couldn’t help himself.  Over the past few days he had become such a tangled mess over her, he felt desperate to fix everything he had broken.

Unfortunately, all that awaited him when he entered the apartment after work that night was eerie quiet and darkness.  Disappointed, Tragan cursed his own arrogance.  What did he really expect to find?  Andy cooking in the kitchen?  Or sitting in the reading room, just hoping for his return?  The door to the bedroom was open.  When
he walked inside, he found Andy’s closet door open and her clothes gone.  The bed was stripped of its comforter and linens, with the exception of a thin, white fitted sheet, stretched over the mattress they used to share.  Feeling more despondent by the second, Tragan checked Andy’s bathroom.  All her toiletries, which had been arranged so neatly in wall-hanging caddies, were gone.  The only items left were Tragan’s razor and shower gel.  The only glimmer of hope he had that she wasn’t gone forever was found in the reading room.  Except for a few pockets of space on the shelves, most of her books remained in the bookcase.  Surely she planned to come back for those?

Sinking
down on the futon opposite the bookcase, Tragan rested his elbows on his knees.  Then put his head in his hands as a painful knot the size of a softball took hold of his chest.  He’d made this happen.  This was not what he wanted--yet it was all his fault.

~

Andy’s week, which she mostly spent at Emma’s house, was no better than Tragan’s.  At least she had her sister for support during her sporadic crying fits, and also the funny, playful company of her nephews to ease her sadness. 

Though she had stayed in the apartment for a day or two after Tragan left, the loneliness got to be too much.  When she didn’t hear from him or see him, she
started to feel stupid and kind of pathetic, just hanging around, waiting for him to return.  So, with her pride finally matching her depression, she’d packed up a lot of her stuff and fled to Emma’s.

Then she’d given in to her mom’s advice and made plans
through Ethan to join Dr. Strand’s study.  However, she knew she needed to act fast or she might change her mind again, so she’d booked a flight to London almost immediately.  Since the university was offering off-campus housing to participants of the study, Andy would be able to get settled over there pretty quickly.  Meanwhile, Kathryn was so elated that her daughter was giving this a try, she was arranging for movers to collect the rest of Andy’s things from the apartment, and Kathryn would store them for her while she was gone.

Even if Andy had had the strength to argue or to find a flaw in the
London plan, she couldn’t.  She’d gotten her applications out, so at least grad school in the upcoming fall might be an option.  She figured there was no harm in applying.  In the case that Dr. Strand’s study was a bust or possibly ended early, she could be back in time to start classes in September.  And if not, she figured she could request permission for a late enrollment due to medical reasons.  Or… 

T
here was always the chance that she would decide not to go.  That she’d want to stay as far away from Boston as possible.  In fact, strangely, the idea of abandoning Boston altogether was beginning to appeal to her--despite the fact that she’d always adored the quaint little city.  Everything was tainted now, though.  The thought of running into Tragan someday, casually riding the T or strolling down Beacon Street, or worse, holding hands with another girl in Boston Common--some
healthy
girl, some
normal
girl--made her physically ill.  After all the pain he’d caused her, she literally couldn’t stomach the idea. And in a town as small as this, it was almost inevitable. 

Basically, in addition to breaking her heart and tossing her love into the dumpster, Tragan Barrett had also ruined
Boston for her.  Emma assured Andy that this feeling would pass, and Andy prayed she was right.  Then again, Emma had also remarked, “Well, it’s good you’re not bitter,” to which they’d both had to laugh since little could be farther from the truth.   

~

Now Andy was sitting on the bed in Emma’s guest room, sorting through some books.  Her sister appeared in the doorway.  “Hey, what are you doing?”

“
Downsizing,” Andy replied glumly, tossing a paperback to one side of her lap and a hardcover to the other.  “Just pulling out some books I’m going to donate to the library before I leave.”

“Hmm, I take it this one is too appalling for public consumption?” Emma said, leaning down to pull a paperback out of the small, otherwise empty trash bin by the door. 

“Oh,” Andy said, looking at the creased cover of
Seducing the Billionaire Earl’s Pregnant Bride.
  “Yeah, I hate that one now,” she said simply.

Questioningly, Emma raised her eyebrows.  “I’ve never seen you throw out a book in my life.”
  She crossed over to take a seat on the bed, setting the paperback aside.  Almost instantly, Andy’s shoulders slumped and she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, trying to wipe them before they fell. 

“Don’t be sorry,” Emma said warmly, studying her with concern.

“I know I keep crying,” Andy mumbled, wiping her eyes again.  “It’s just…”  She swallowed a hard lump, on some level debating whether it was even worth getting into again.  She’d already burdened her sister ad nauseum with this pity party, and it wasn’t like Emma could read Tragan’s mind or give Andy any real answers as to what went wrong.  “I just don’t understand why he did this.  I feel like…everything seemed fine, and…”  As more tears spilled down her cheek, she sniffled loudly and looked around for a tissue. 

Reading her mind, Emma rose from the bed and grabbed a box off the dresser.  “Here.”

“Maybe I made a mistake,” Andy put in after a moment.  “Maybe I shouldn’t have let Brad go.”

“No,” Emma said right away.  “Don’t say that.”

“But Brad never cared about the Bronsteg,” Andy pointed out, instantly feeling her emotions at odds as she was saying these words. 

“You have no basis to think that Tragan cared about that, either,” Emma insisted firmly.  “Or that any guy would.”

“But what
else
?  It had to be that!  What else could be ‘too much’ for Tragan all of a sudden?  Unless…”  Andy’s eyes widened as she scrambled for alternate theories.  “Do you think I scared him by introducing him to my family too soon?  Do you think that was it?”

“Andy, it sounds like maybe he’s just too immature for a real relationship right now,” Emma posed and not for the first time.  Somehow Andy always r
ejected that idea implicitly; it had to be more than that.

“At least if I were with Brad…” Andy began, not even sure what the point was of pursuing such a line of thought.  But in light of how her relationship with Tragan had blown up, she couldn’t seem to help looking back at the only other boyfriend she’d ever had.

“Stop,” Emma told her.  “Andy, you weren’t in love with Brad.  If you were, you never would have broken up with him.  You never would have fallen for Tragan in the first place.  You don’t want to be with Brad, okay?  Don’t even start going down that path, because you’re going to end up feeling it was a mistake in the end.”

“I guess, but…” Andy mumbled doubtfully.

Sitting up straighter, Emma said: “Okay, let me ask you this.  If you were to find out tomorrow that Tragan was actually abducted by pod people, who assumed his identity, and the
real
Tragan never broke up with you--and somehow, he was able to overpower the guards, escape their lair and come back--”

With a grimace, Andy tilted
her head, giving her sister the skeptical look she often did when it seemed that Emma’s job at the sci-fi magazine,
Alien Notion
, had usurped her line of reasoning. 

“Just tell me,” Emma continued.  “If that happened, would you still think
maybe you should stay with Brad?”

“Of course not!” And
y burst, as though the answer should be obvious.  “Are you kidding?  Finding out that Tragan was abducted by pod people would be the best news I could ever get.” 

At that, Emma laughed.  Then quickly said, “I’m sorry,” and tried to suppress it. 

In spite of her lingering sadness, Andy laughed, too.  “Well you know what I mean,” she added with a smirk, and then blew her nose.

Emma reached out and hugged her.  “It’ll get better,” she assured her.  Hugging her back, Andy felt strangely comforted, because even though the sentiment was trite, Emma spoke from experience.  What could top the
romantic disappointment of losing her husband, especially so young?  Yet somehow she’d swum through the crushing sadness of heartbreak--and Andy would, too.

Chapter Thirty-nine

“We should wake Tray up.”

Bardo and Pellican had arrived at Matt’s to find Tragan passed out cold on the couch.

Doubtfully, Matt
shook his head at Bardo’s suggestion.  “He drank me out of tequila last night.  He’s not waking up for awhile, trust me.”

All three looked at
their friend sprawled out on Matt’s sofa.  The full length of his body didn’t quite fit so his legs were falling off the edge.  His clothes looked disheveled and his jaw was darkened by a three-day beard.

“Man…” Bardo said, studying Tragan with sympathy.  “Did he ever tell you what happened with him and Andy?”

“Nope,” Matt replied honestly.  “He doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t believe they broke up,” Bardo went on.  “They seemed happy.”

“Nah, we should’ve seen this coming,” Pellican jumped in.  “She had him by the balls the whole time.  You could tell.  Now look at him--he looks pathetic.”  For his best friend’s sake, Matt wished he could argue with that, but he didn’t even bother trying. 

“We should move him to the bedroom,” Bardo s
uggested.  “You know, put him on the bed.  Put some covers on him, make him comfortable.”

Skeptically,
Pellican curled his lip.  “Dude, that sounds really gay.”

“No, it’s not
,” Bardo argued.  “Not if we all do it together--and no one enjoys it.”

Matt and Pellican nodded.

“All right.”

“Agreed.”

Soon the three of them hefted Tragan off Matt’s sofa.  Matt and Pellican took him by the underarms and Bardo held him by the ankles as they carried him to the bedroom.  When they dropped him onto the mattress, Tragan barely even stirred--just shoved his scruffy face into the pillow with an incoherent grumble.  Haphazardly, Bardo tossed the afghan over him and Matt shut off the light.  “I guess that’s all we can do,” Bardo said, following Matt to the door.

With a click of his tongue, Pellican muttered,
“Poor bastard,” before also exiting the room.

~

“Are you sure you want to go by yourself?  If you just wait a couple more days I could go with you,” Kathryn said, handing Andy her passport.

“Thanks, I thought that
was here.  No, it’s fine, Mom, really,” Andy said, her voice flat and devoid of emotion, even to her own ears.  Over the past several days, she’d become numb yet self-aware about it.  “I just want to get there and get situated.”  And get the hell out of
this
city, she thought, sticking the passport in her purse. 

Then, w
ith effort, she forced an agreeable smile, not wanting her mom to know the extent of her bitterness.  If her mother saw how truly heartbroken she still was over Tragan, she’d never let her get on that plane alone.  At least she wouldn’t make it easy for her.  Sure, Andy supposed she could wait until next week to fly out, but why bother?  Staying around Boston wasn’t doing her mood any good.

Now, with a shuddering breath, she composed herself. 
A fresh start, a new phase.  And whatever other things people in her position had to tell themselves.  Just then her mother broke her train of thought by handing her a small framed photo of Jake and Ben.  “Here, you should also take this with you.”

“
Oh, definitely,” Andy agreed, smiling in spite of herself.  She ran a finger over the glass.  “I love this one.”

“Perhaps,
uh, you can explain things to Brad…work things out.”  Kathryn spoke quietly and with clear trepidation, as though she knew she was tiptoeing on a landmine.  Like a typical mother, she couldn’t seem to help herself. 

Now
Andy’s eyes burned with anger.  “You did
not
just say that.”

Kathryn
swallowed, looking uncomfortable.  “Sorry.  Just a thought.”  Andy glared at her for another moment, before sticking the picture frame in her bag.  “You did tell me once that he made you feel safe,” Kathryn added carefully, still having the audacity to discuss Brad.  “Feeling safe with someone is very important, Andy.”

“That was a long time ago.  And fine, I felt ‘safe’
in the sense that I knew Brad was out there.  Like a safety net, when I got scared about the future.  But it was just an illusion--apparently everything is an illusion,” she muttered more to herself.  “So who really cares?” 

“Are you talking about Brad?”

“No!  I’m talking about Tragan!” Andy nearly yelled, exasperated and upset.  In fact, just saying his name out loud sprung a well inside her and she sniffed.  “He’s the one I’m in love with; he’s the one who made me feel safe
and
happy.  With Tragan it was different.”  She sat down on the settee in her mother’s living room and rubbed her nose, which was burning with emotion now, as two tears spilled over her eyes.  “When I had Tragan, I felt like life was literally perfect.  Like no matter what happened--even if the Bronsteg started up again--it would never be stronger than us.”  She knew how sappy and Hallmarky that sounded, but it was the genuine truth, which her mother could accept or not. 

“Forget it,” Andy said with another sniff, quickly wiping her hands across her cheeks
.  “I don’t want to talk about it.  And I
definitely
don’t want to talk about it with you--the president of the Brad fan club.  You’re probably happy that Tragan stomped my heart into the dirt!”

With a barely audible gasp, Kathryn pressed a hand to her che
st.  Then she sat beside Andy.  “Please don’t say that.  Please don’t leave angry with me,” she implored, suddenly teary herself.

“I’m not,” Andy replied with a
defeated sigh, and softened her tone.  “I just can’t talk about this, that’s all.”

“All I want is for my girls to be happy--that’s it,” Kathryn insisted, her voice uncharacteristically thick with emotion.  “Everything I’ve done has been to that end.”  It seemed like a strange comment, but Andy didn’t stop to analyze it.  Instead she leaned over and hugged her.   

“I know, Mom.”  With maternal warmth, Kathryn hugged her close.  “I appreciate everything, I swear.  I love you,” Andy added, never wanting her mother to doubt that, despite what a moody brat Andy had become lately.

“I love you, too.  You and Emma are everything to me,
” Kathryn said, still clutching her daughter.  “You’re my treasure.”

~

That evening Andy was hanging out at Emma’s, watching a cartoon about crime-fighting puppies.  Or rather, sitting in front of one with her mind wandering.  The boys had picked the movie and were surprisingly quiet as it played.  Emma was apparently using the reprieve from their hyperactivity to nap on the sofa.  Suddenly Andy’s phone buzzed and she dug it out of the armchair cushion where it had fallen.  When she saw it was a text from Tragan, her heart jumped. 

It wasn’t the first time
he’d reached out to her since their breakup, though for the most part, she’d been ignoring him.  Still, her nerves raced as she clicked on the message. 

Hi…how r u?

Really?
she thought angrily, glowering at the phone as if it was the device’s fault.  That was
it
?  She supposed she’d secretly been holding out hope that he’d grovel and beg, in which case she might consider lifting her “ignore Tragan” rule.  But apparently not.  The guy was actually going to waste her time with small talk!  Why?  Was this how he soothed his conscience?  With her thumb, she slid the message over to the garbage can icon. 

Another text followed
:
Ethan said u r going to London.

Delete.

When’s ur flight?

Delete
.

A few minutes later, he texted
:
PLS ANDY. Just let me know u r oka
y
.

A sudden immature impulse tempted her to reply:
Fuck you, asshole
, rather than simply deleting his message.  It was so unlike her to say something like that, Tragan would probably jerk his head back, stunned. 

Admittedly, the idea was tempting. 
Unfortunately, such a response would only make her look like a wounded puppy over him.  The guy had dumped her; she wasn’t about to boost his ego, on top of it.  So, again she let her thumb do the talking. 
Delete
. 

Then she shut her phone off and laid it on the coffee table.  A sad sigh passed across her lips, because she knew it in her bones: that was the end.