You’re Still The One: An angsty second chances romance (NYC Singles Book 1)

Andrew didn’t know what he was doing, drinking champagne at Carl’s seventy-first birthday. He tried to come up with some—any—excuse for his presence here. But he couldn’t find one.

He’d felt like it, so he’d gotten into a tux and driven down. That wasn’t an excuse, it was an impulse. He didn’t do impulsive, but since the night at the bookstore, the lines between what he did and didn’t do anymore were becoming severely blurred.

Carl’s suburban mansion in Greenhaven had been turned into a party venue for the evening. With glittering lights and Victorian furniture, it resembled an English ballroom. On the long tables were meticulously crafted canapés. Carl would have hired the best caterers in town—quality mattered to him. There was a bar at the end of the hall, where drinks were being mixed to fulfill every alcoholic fantasy.

All the glitz and glamor of high society was here. Women paraded in designer gowns with expensive sets of diamonds or pearls clasped onto their necks.

Waiters wearing bow ties flowed through the crowd, offering guests glasses of drinks.

Andrew took a swig of champagne, noting that not much had changed in Carl’s friend circle since Andrew had left Finn. He was the only man in his thirties here. The rest of the crowd was middle-aged and senior men and women with their husbands and wives—mostly from Carl’s professional circle.

In the ocean of faces, he recognized many. There was Frank, who’d be retiring this year, Arshad, his father’s trusted right-hand man, and Xuefeng, the new director of equities Carl had poached from a competitor.

But the main man Carl Smith was missing.

Craning his neck, Andrew bumped into Frank and his wife, who bored him with every excruciating detail of their retirement home in Nice for fifteen minutes.

“Frank’s worked too hard, too long,” his wife said. “Now we’re going to enjoy what’s left of our time on earth.”

That was a fatalistic statement for a lady who was only sixty-five.

“One of these days, Carl needs to hand over the company to you and retire. He’s seventy-one already. How much longer can his body hold up to the demands of being a CEO?”

Andrew nodded politely, inwardly laughing at Frank’s naiveté. Carl? Retirement? Carl Smith would work until his dying day. So would Andrew. Like father, like son. They loved their jobs too much to sacrifice them for the sake of an extended vacation in the south of France.

After Frank and his wife moved to the bar, Andrew joined a circle of associates, most of whom had not seen him in a long time. Since he was here, he might as well network. He remembered some of his subordinates, but they had all now risen to the upper echelons of the company.

“So, you’ve been doing pretty darned well since you quit Finn,” Harry said, his Newcastle accent thick. “I heard you’re writing a book.”

The undercurrent of envy in the stares he received made him uncomfortable. These were people he had once thought of as friends. But it was only a matter of time before anyone who stayed in the ultra-competitive finance world became victim to the ‘rat race’ mentality.

He was glad he had escaped this world.

“Good evening,” his father intruded, putting Andrew in alert mode. He couldn’t disguise his astonishment when he saw Andrew. “I didn’t expect you’d show up.”

It had been six years since he had seen Carl in person. In those years, nature had robbed much of the little youth his father had owned at sixty-five. His puffy, cotton hair had become a thin layer of white threads on his scalp. There were more lines on his face than in a prune.

Carl looked old. Really old. That hit Andrew in a strange way. He had expected Carl to remain forty-five and strong forever. To realize that his adversary was now a frail old man made him go soft.

The other men in the crowd immediately flooded Carl with ‘Happy birthday’s.

“Happy birthday.” Andrew’s sounded the least congratulatory.

Carl coughed. It must be an old-age thing, Andrew thought.

“I’m pleased you came.”

Andrew couldn’t begin to express how odd it felt to hear something that even remotely resembled praise. One by one, the circle of people scattered in other directions, leaving him and Carl alone.

Carl looked over his shoulder, his attention shifting to something distant.

“Oh, Ashley.”

Andrew’s stomach contracted when he heard that name and an angel in pale pink floated over to them. He rubbed his eyes, disbelieving. She couldn’t be here. It made no sense.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Smith.” Ashley handed his father a small, golden-wrapped package.

“You didn’t have to buy me a gift.” Carl accepted the gift, nevertheless.

“It’s your birthday.”

Her face, radiant and dewy, appeared more angelic than usual. Under the shimmering glow of the lights, she robbed the splendor from the room, leaving his eyes only capable of focusing on her. Andrew sucked in a breath, and forgot to exhale.

“I took the liberty of inviting Ashley here. Doesn’t she look stunning?”

Stunning seemed like the pithiest word in the world at this moment. Ashley wasn’t wearing a designer gown, yet she made every other woman in the crowd melt into insignificance. Her dress, made of some kind of sheer fabric and sequined with glitter, was sheer, sticking to her outline and reminding him of all the magnificent curves she possessed.

He wanted to bundle her into his arms, carry her to the room upstairs, peel away every delicate layer of the sheer fabric and finish what they had started that night. She promised so much without saying anything. One gaze in his direction and she had him thinking of ways to circumvent the rules that chained his heart around her.

Andrew balled his fists to keep the frustration from spinning out of control. He was doing this for her sake.

Carl flashed a smile at her and the irony of the situation elicited a laugh from him. Years ago, Carl’s expression had been the exact opposite of what it was now.

Andrew ironed out the kinks in his vertebrae, lengthening his posture to look more intimidating. “I distinctly remember telling you that we were divorced.”

“So what? Can I not invite her?” Carl frowned.

“You should have told me about it.”

“Would that have changed your decision to come here tonight?”

“Yes.”

The last thing Andrew wanted was to run into her. He was trying to block her out of his life, to save whatever shreds of sanity he had left after that incident at the café.

He’d deliberately humiliated her that day. It was the kind of action he wouldn’t have thought himself capable of, if he had not been devoured by jealousy. Possessiveness had never numbered among his vices, but where she was concerned, there was no floor on how low he could fall.

It had almost given him satisfaction to see her date leave.

Carl’s attention shifted from him to her. “I see you two have some issues to work out. I’ll leave you alone to get to it, then.”

Carl slid away to entertain the rest of his guests.

Andrew didn’t want to be backed into a corner with her. She was barely a foot away from him. Trying to regain control of the muscles that were turning liquid in her presence, he turned on his heel.

“Andrew, wait. We need to talk.” She seized his hand.

He shook her hand away, yet the awareness and the fire she had ignited in his veins remained. He cooled the heat by coiling his fingers around the glass of cold champagne.

“About what?”

Specks of light danced inside the pure blue of her irises, like she was struggling to make up her mind.

“About what happened the year I was ill.” Ashley sought refuge by looking at the polished, granite floor. “I didn’t know you paid my medical bills.”

“I didn’t want you to know. Who told you?” He scrunched his forehead, bringing his eyebrows together in a frown.

“Your father.”

“What’s gotten into him? He wasn’t this interested in you before.”

Carl was acting out of character.

“I want to pay you back. I have a job now, so I should.” Ashley said, reaching inside her clutch.

“No.”

Andrew impressed his black brogues on the hard floor, pressing deeper to push all the anger he was feeling onto the soles of his feet. He wasn’t going to allow her to strip away the last line of defense he had against his guilt, the last thing that made him feel human.

“What do you mean no?”

“I don’t want it back. You were my wife then. It was my duty to do that for you.”

“No, it wasn’t. We were already divorced.” She raised her volume ever so slightly. “I don’t want to be indebted to you.”

Her breasts rose and fell with the angry breaths that she snatched. Pushing against the slinky fabric, they rocked his lower body with unwanted arousal. She was walking sin tonight and her full, red lips promised him heaven.

A heaven he couldn’t have.

“You are not indebted to me. I haven’t forgotten that it was you who put food on the table for the year that we were married. Unless you accept repayment for that, the bills, the house and everything else, I can’t accept anything from you.”

“That was different! I had to do that for both of us. The house wasn’t going to run itself!” she exclaimed, then saw the loophole in her logic.

“Your medical bills were not going to pay themselves, either.” he said, coolly.

“It was my fault that I had no health insurance, so you should have let me pay the price.” she insisted.

“I wanted to have your back, at least once.”

Her arms fell to her sides and her expression softened. Her vermillion lips slowly mouthed a, “Thank you, anyway.”

“There is no need for thank you.” He waved his hand in denial.

“You had to borrow the money from Carl. I’m sure that wasn’t a pleasant experience.”

“It had to be done. I couldn’t have gotten the money any other way. But don’t worry, it wasn’t as bad as you’re imagining.” His tie was starting to choke him, or maybe it was the lump in his throat.

Her gaze dangled on the large porcelain vase in the room, miles away from him.

“Andrew, did you love me back then?” Her bottom lip quivered, like she would break if he gave her the wrong answer.

“That is a rhetorical question. You know I did. I told you so many times.” He put his champagne glass on a table nearby. He couldn’t drink now, when his throat was being choked by emotions that shouldn’t be able to push past his chest.

“Then why did you leave me?” There was an inflection in her voice. She must be emotionally rattled inside, but trying not to let it on.

“You wanted me to leave you.”

The real reason was something he was too cowardly to admit. It would brand him as flawed and he could tolerate her hatred, but he couldn’t disappoint her again.

“I didn’t want you to leave me. I wanted you to stay with me. I wanted you to hold me and hug me and scare away all the frightening thoughts.” There were no full-stops between the sentences. She didn’t pause, just rolled out the syllables in a continuous string.

“Then why didn’t you say so?”

“You didn’t let me. You shoved the papers at me and walked away.”

Regret washed all over him along with its more familiar cousin—guilt. Her words, like pieces of glass, lodged into all the corners of his ribcage. If only she knew how hard he had fought to even have those few moments with her so he could personally ask her for the divorce. If only she knew how excruciating the seven inhales he had taken while telling her to sign the papers had been.

“I’m sorry,” was the best he could muster.

Ashley took his hand in hers. “Do you still love me?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He couldn’t lie, so he had to avoid.

“Tell me. Tell me the truth.” The whisper felt like silk on his skin, undoing the tight knots of self-condemnation and control.

“The truth might make things hard for you.”

And it might make not kissing her right now almost impossible for him.

“You are scared of love, Ashley, so why are you doing this to yourself?”

“I’m scared to love again, but I’m even more scared to never be able to love again. I don’t want to forget how it feels to be in love with someone. I don’t want to be so afraid of getting hurt all the time that it paralyzes me.”

But I’m scared of hurting you again, he wanted to scream.

He shook free of her hand. There was no way he could tell her what he wanted to, while she was still clinging on to him and he was still letting her cling ono him. “That ‘someone’ you love doesn’t have to be me.”

“Can your ‘someone’ be someone other than me?” she asked, sharply.

“Yes,” he lied, looking right into her eyes and watching hope disappear.

Sometimes, it was imperative to make tough decisions. As a CEO, he knew all about that. So why did his chest pound with agony when her face fell?

“So that night, whatever was between us was… just heat? Was it only lust that you felt?” She gulped down all the champagne in her glass in one go.

“That was what we both felt.”

He had to wound her to protect her, but seeing her unhappy still crushed him.

“No, it wasn’t what I felt. But it looks like it was just me, one-sidedly loving you again.”

She looked fragile like an ice sculpture, her vulnerability more delicate than the beads sewn onto her dress. His hands itched to take her into his embrace, warm up that cold skin and melt the sadness that made her so pale.

“I’m sorry.” What else could he say now? “But you’re still young and beautiful. You can find another man. Your Mr. Right.”

“I don’t want to find anyone. I want you. You’re my Mr. Right, even though you keep saying all the wrong things all the time. I could have found someone in seven years, don’t you think? Why didn’t I? Because I couldn’t forget you.” She was starting to get emotional. He saw the vulnerability in her eyes, as she opened up. She was brave, to be able to do this.

No, he had no business admiring her.

“Don’t waste your life pining after something you can’t have. I’m not worth having again.” he said.

“Please don’t give me this ‘I am not good enough for you’ bullshit, because I’m smart enough to know who is and who isn’t good enough for me, Andrew. And I’m strong enough not to break this time. You cannot affect me the way you did back then. No one can.” She closed off her monologue with a huff. He could see in her flushed skin, her racing heart and her temper that she was ten times more determined that she’d ever been. “And I’ll do what I want. But don’t mind me. Continue being your heartless self and ignoring me like you’ve been doing. Because you do that really well.” The folds of her dress swayed when she swiveled.

Andrew had to pin himself to the pillar and exert an inordinate amount of self-control to keep himself from pulling her into his arms and kissing her until every drop of her tears evaporated in the heat between them.

Ashley wandered through the crowd, almost in a daze, searching for the exit. Deep breaths were all that kept him from giving in to the all-possessing need to grab onto her and heal her. Staying glued to his spot, he drained his glass of the remaining champagne. It tasted like water on his tongue and did nothing to cool the explosion in his ribcage.

This must be what it felt like to suffocate while breathing.

Since movement was the only way he could reduce his anxiety, Andrew mingled, making meaningless, uninspiring conversation which did not help him in the least to forget about what she’d said.

How could she ask him to hurt her again? Maybe she was strong enough to not let that affect her now, but he wasn’t. Everything she’d said just reinforced his guilt. She was angry he hadn’t tried to find her for seven years, but if she knew how many times he’d reached the front of her house and then frozen, she would know how hopeless this situation was.

Carl, who was with a bunch of men and women, looked at him and shook his head. Since Andrew had been trained to react to Carl’s disappointment in only one way since childhood, it stung.

Turning away, he picked up a cheeseboard stick from the tray of the server who passed him by and swallowed it. It tasted like plastic. His heart wasn’t into anything now. Anything except her.

Deciding that leaving the party would be the best thing he could do, Andrew tossed the stick onto the table and waved a goodbye to Carl. The old man glowered.

With his eyes on Carl, Andrew bumped into someone.

“I’m sorry, where’s the exit—” It was Ashley again. She blinked when she saw him, then turned around, angry. She cursed under her breath, mostly at herself.

“Leaving already?” Andrew asked. She didn’t reply. “You came all the way. Stay for dinner.”

“I’m not hungry. I want to go home.” She looked upset, every inch of her skin flushed and her chest rising and falling in rapid succession.

It wasn’t right to let her leave in this state of mind. She could ram her car into a post or get into an accident. The threat of losing her again had him overcoming his resistance to spending more time in her company.

“Do you want me to show you around the house?” he offered. “The garden is beautiful. You should take a look at it.”

“Don’t drag this out, Andrew,” she warned.

Yes, he needed to make a clean break. Sending mixed signals would make it harder for her to move on.

Nodding, he pointed his finger to the right. “The exit is over there, behind the glass statue. I’m heading there as well.”

“Not staying longer?” she asked.

“I have to make an early conference call tomorrow.” he said, as they walked. He stayed behind her.

“Ah, work. Of course.”

The noise of the party grew softer and softer until it faded, overtaken by their footsteps. Words came to his mouth, but dissolved before they could be said. He wanted to say something to make her feel better, but he was the last person on earth capable of doing that.

“How are things with my book?” he enquired, zeroing on a neutral topic.

“I’ll get to it soon. I’ve been busy with other titles.”

He rubbed his eyes.

“Ashley, I didn’t mean to be harsh back then.”

“I know. Stop explaining yourself. The more you do that, the more I misunderstand. I think, maybe he’s doing this because he cares about me, because he doesn’t want to hurt me. I keep imagining unrealistic things. And then you break my heart again and I’m left more confused than ever.”

“Are you confused now?”

The need to embrace her was growing desperate.

“No, I’m angry at myself for coming out here thinking that I could make us work.”

Only her back faced him, so he couldn’t see her expression when she said that.

“At least you tried, so you’ll have no regrets later.”

“Yes, I tried. And I failed.”

The autumn breeze hit his face. They were both out of the mansion.

A parade of cars moved in a line, in front of the huge entrance, dropping off people. Andrew texted his driver. Ashley stood around, looking at all the cars.

“How’re you going to get home?” he asked. Worrying about her didn’t count as love, right?

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll use Uber. That’s how I got here.” She clicked the app on her phone.

“I’ll drop you.” he offered.

She narrowed her eyes into slits. “You and I live nowhere near each other.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t drop you home.”

She moved her attention away from her phone. “Why should you? You don’t need to be courteous to me, Andrew. I’m nobody to you. We’ve established that.”

“We might not be on the best of terms, but I’m still worried for you. I shouldn’t be, but I am. I worry about whether you will get home safely. I worry about how you’ll feel when you get home. I worry about whether you’ll cry when you get home. It’s useless when I can’t do anything about any of those things. I don’t love you, Ashley, no, and I don’t want anything romantic or sexual with you. I don’t even want to see you after today. I just want to be able to worry about you and take you home tonight.”

The veil of tears over her eyes grew thicker. Shit, he’d confused her again.

Andrew sighed. What was so difficult about saying a simple goodbye and walking away? Why did the trembling of her lip, the moistness of her eyes, always make him do and say things that were contrary to what he should be doing and saying?

Ashley sniffled, when the bright headlights of his car, being driven to the entrance, flashed into her eyes, blinding her.

“Come on,” he said, avoiding touching her hand, which dangled in front of his chest.

“I can’t,” she said. “If I get into the car with you, we’ll talk. I’ll smell your scent. Then, I’ll think about you more. I’ll think of you all night until I’m exhausted. I don’t want to do that. So I’ll go on my own. But… will you grant me something before that?”

A punch rammed into his gut, a punch of pain.

“What?” Anything. He’d give her anything.

“I understand you can’t love me, but at least kiss me goodnight. Give me a farewell kiss. An innocent kiss. No tongue.”

Except that.

“There can’t be an innocent kiss between you and me.”

“There can be. I’ll show you.” Her eyes sparkled.

She cupped his face and looked into his eyes, hoping to find the one thing he couldn’t give her.

He gave her a silent warning. “Let’s not do this.”

“Let’s do it,” she urged, arching her back to get her swollen lips to his.

Barely a finger away, her breath played havoc on his nerves. A moment of weakness, the slightest movement could meld their lips. Could destroy the precious state of half-peace he had found.

Guilt urged him to give her this last kiss. She deserved at least this. She was so desperate now. She was letting go of her ego, her pride, and begging him for this. She was trying so hard, just like she had tried during their marriage. Trying to make them work. But like then, he had no choice but to disappoint her now.

With nerves of steel, Andrew gripped her shoulder and pushed her away. It was just a light nudge, but his body language left no room for ambiguity.

“No, Ashley. No.” It was a whisper but it reverberated like a yell.

Their attraction was a slippery slope they were both sliding down, towards a single destination—destruction. It had to stop. It had to stop before it spun out of their hands.

Hurt, she gathered a handful of her dress, scrunched it up and looked down, trying to find the strength to fight the tears. One more dose of pain injected itself into him.

“Why?” she demanded, angry now.

“Someone has to be the adult.”

“We are both adults. Don’t treat me like a kid by telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. I’m capable of making that choice on my own.”

“Yes, you are. And you’ve been doing that extremely well for the last seven years, without me. You should continue doing that.” he said and it annoyed her more.

She looked up at the sky to trap the tears. Andrew was sure she wanted to say many things now. Things she couldn’t say because of how swollen her throat was.

His driver opened the door of the car.

“Sir,” he said, urging Andrew to get in.

With the cars lining up behind his, Andrew couldn’t linger around any longer.

“Good night, Ashley.”

He didn’t attempt to touch her. He left with a cool goodbye. Like he should. Left without another word. But Andrew couldn’t prevent himself from turning back and looking at her one last time when the car pulled away.

The expression on her face was so heartbreaking, he wished he’d never seen it.