Constructing Us (New Adult Romance)

by Lake, C. J.

  “You’ve been so quiet the whole way home,” Andy commented, breaking his train of thought as he tossed his keys down. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, sorry, babe. I just…I have a headache,” he lied.

  “Headache?” she echoed softly, her brow scrunching in concern. “That’s my line.”

  He gave her a feeble smile. God, how could he let her go? She was so beautiful, so perfect for him, so special to him… “I’m just gonna hit the sack, I guess,” he muttered.

  “Okay. Me, too,” she agreed, leading the way toward the bedroom. “By the way, my family really loved you, especially the boys, I could tell.”

  “Really?” he mumbled.

  “My mom approves, too,” Andy added brightly. Tragan held his tongue, though he knew Andy’s mother would only be a fan of his if he dumped her daughter. Obviously he wasn’t about to tell Andy that.

  About ten minutes later, Tragan was stripped to his boxers, waiting under the covers for Andy, who’d gone to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. When she returned, his heart swelled a little at the sight of her, and then the feel of her as she climbed over him to get on “her side” of the bed. Helplessly, he reached for her, pulled her close. “How’s your head?” she asked.

  “Better,” he lied again. The fabricated headache from before was actually turning real, as his skull began to drum and the tension in his bones grew heavier.

  “Goodnight,” she murmured, as she buried her cheek deep in her pillow. “I love you.”

  As he ran his gaze over her silhouette, Tragan swallowed down a hard lump of anxiety. “I love you, too, babe,” he told her, because it was the only thing right now he was certain of.

  ~

  The next day Tragan got home from work and found Andy sitting on the living room floor, with papers laid across the coffee table. “Hi,” she said cheerfully when he entered.

  “Hey…” he said, feeling his stomach knot up again. He’d spent the day wrestling with his decision and seeing her now made him nervous as hell about it. The awesome aroma that came from the kitchen made him feel even guiltier.

  “Are you hungry?” she said. “I made chicken cordon blue. I would have made something from the Taiwanese cookbook you got me, but I didn’t have the ingredients yet.”

  Tragan managed a nod. “What are you up to?” he asked offhandedly.

  “Grad school applications. BC, BU, and Northeastern. By the way, did you decide where you want to enroll in classes?”

  “Um, I just figured Boston Community,” he replied, hesitating at the edge of the couch. He could either stall, keep walking toward the kitchen for a drink or some crap, or he could get this torture over with now. “Andy…uh…”

  She spun her pen between her fingers as she blinked up at him. “Yes?”

  Suddenly his throat was tight and dry; he had to force the words out. “I’ve been thinking. Look, I’m just gonna say it.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Us,” he answered. “I mean…I’m just thinking that maybe we should…you know…” he rambled uncomfortably. Damn breaking up with a girl was always awful, but doing this to Andy was beyond belief misery. The only thing driving him forward right now was the word Andy’s mom had dangled. Temporarily. If Tragan could get her to go to London, but keep the lines of communication open between them over the phone, email…maybe take a few vacation days off of work to visit her…he could win her back. He’d prove to her the whole time she was over there how devoted he was.

  “We should what?” she asked now, sounding concerned, confused and sort of annoyed, all at once.

  “Take a break,” Tragan said.

  Andy’s mouth curved open, but no words came out. It took all of Tragan’s restraint not to kneel down on the floor next to her and tell her he didn’t really mean it. Still, he stood there, wearing his poker face. “A break?” she repeated finally--then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Is this about my family? Did they say something to you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. Your family’s great.” Sure he could tell her the truth about his conversation with Kathryn, but what would it accomplish? It would only make Andy mad at her mother and more determined not to do what she wanted. Wouldn’t that almost prove what Kathryn had implied--that Tragan was putting himself ahead of Andy?

  He decided to improvise. “But now that you mention it…seeing them, meeting them all, well, it just made me realize that…things have gotten heavy between you and me. Everything’s moving fast, you know?”

  “Okay…” Andy gritted out, now getting blatantly angry now.

  Tragan could feel sweat breaking out on the nape of his neck. Damn, this was harder than he imagined. “I just think we moved too fast maybe and we need…”

  “What? To break up?” Andy interrupted, clearly shocked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you serious right now?” she said and climbed to her feet. When she blinked at him, he saw a film of tears cloud over her eyes, making them bluer.

  “I’m sorry,” Tragan said. At least that part was true. “For now I just…it’s all too much for me,” he babbled, turning away from her. “I guess I, uh, I need space.”

  “You don’t mean it,” Andy told him, her voice cracking. Jesus, she was so vulnerable and sweet. How could he hurt her this way?

  “I do,” he said, literally forcing out the words.

  “No--you don’t.”

  “Andy, please…” Tragan practically begged, because he was teetering on the verge of taking it all back, and would if she kept pushing him.

  “If you mean it, then why can’t you look at me?”

  “Andy…”

  “Answer the question!”

  “Because this is fucking hard, okay?” Tragan’s tone was brusque, as acid burned his retina. He never cried, yet could feel emotion welling up in him. “I’m not enjoying this, all right? I care about you, I do. But…”

  When he heard her sniffling, his heart twisted up into a painful knot. He swallowed deeply, hating himself right now. “You said you didn’t care about the Bronsteg,” she said.

  “I don’t! Wait--Andy, I don’t care about that at all, I swear!” he insisted. Hell, he couldn’t have her thinking that.

  “Then what’s ‘too much’ for you?” she challenged. “What are you even talking about?”

  At that, Tragan only shook his head. He couldn’t look her in the eye. In fact, he couldn’t stand to be there any longer. “I should go, give you some space. I’ll stay at Matt’s tonight.” Without looking back, Tragan retread his steps to the front door. “Babe, I’m sorry,” he threw in weakly, pathetically, as he left her alone in the apartment. He should have known he was kidding himself. He hadn’t gotten the torture over with at all--it was only just beginning.

  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 me, 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 alone.

  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 we
ren’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 answered 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…

  There 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 rejected 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!” Andy 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.