Constructing Us (New Adult Romance)

by Lake, C. J.

  Chapter Forty-one

  After debating whether or not to return Tragan’s call, Emma picked up her phone and dialed back. When he’d called earlier, he hadn’t left much of a message, so she wasn’t sure what he was after exactly. She had to assume that he wanted her to pass on a message to Andy or for Emma to help him get in touch with Andy. Honestly, if it weren’t for the disconcerting talk she’d had with her mom that afternoon, Emma probably wouldn’t have responded to Tragan at all. But now, in light of their mother’s interference, Emma supposed she felt compelled to see if there was anything that could be done to lessen Andy’s sadness, if not eliminate it altogether.

  By the third ring, she was second-guessing her decision to get involved at all--when abruptly, someone answered. “Hello?” said a deep male voice on the other end.

  “Tragan?”

  “No, this is Tray’s friend, Matt,” the guy replied. “But I know he really wants to talk to you. Can you just hang on--”

  Annoyed and frustrated--not really at Tragan’s friend picking up his phone, but at the situation she found herself in, at all this drama--Emma rolled her eyes and muttered, “Oh, God. This is so immature.”

  “What do you mean?” Matt asked, somewhat startling her. She hadn’t expected him to reply to her half-under-the-breath remark.

  “Nothing,” Emma said. “Actually, you know what? Just forget that I called.”

  “Wait! Tray’s just in the shower, but I’ll yell for him. I know he doesn’t want to miss your call.”

  “I don’t even know why I’m calling him back,” Emma said bluntly. In the corner of her mind, she knew she was taking her anger out on the wrong person. “He hurt my sister so badly; I don’t know what he could possibly have to say.”

  “Okay,” Matt said, speaking evenly, calmly. “Look, I don’t want to get involved here, but…believe me, Tray’s a mess over this thing with Andy.”

  Emma scoffed. “Well, he caused it.”

  “Yeah, but--it’s not black and white, that’s all.”

  “Hmm, one day my little sister’s happy, and the next she’s crying. That’s pretty black and white to me.”

  “Look, just hear the guy out,” Matt offered, sounding reasonable. And oddly--incongruously, to say the least--Emma found herself noticing that Matt had a very sexy voice. What the hell? The thought had jumped into her mind so abruptly that she shook her head in surprise.

  “You know what? I’m going to let Tragan and Andy sort this out themselves after all,” Emma told Matt. “If Tragan thinks he made a mistake, then he can fix it. He’s a grown man. I mean, at least I think you’re grown men. How old are you guys again?” Emma asked--hearing the out-of-character condescension in her tone, and feeling her heart beating faster.

  With a short, incredulous-sounding laugh, Matt responded: “How old are you?”

  “I’m twenty-seven.”

  “So we’re practically the same age,” he maintained. If Emma recalled correctly, Andy had said that Tragan was twenty-three. If his friend was twenty-three, too…well, four years was a big gap. Or, didn’t he think so? “I’ll get Tray,” Matt said now, and his voice was smooth and deep and seemed to awaken something in her--a kind of awareness of men that she’d long forgotten. Inexplicably, she began to feel self-conscious.

  As soon as Emma realized that her cheeks were flushed and her pulse was racing, she knew it was time to end the call. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly at all. “You can just tell Tragan that I returned his call,” she said and disconnected before Matt could persuade her to stay on the line for even one second longer.

  ~

  “I just don’t get it, Manny. One day Brad’s texting me to come over, and suddenly, what? He’s done with me?”

  “I hear you, Sophia. Hey, I’ve known Brad Trewell since med school and I still can’t figure the guy out.”

  Automatically, Kathryn turned her head as the muffled voices grew closer--and clearer. Rounding the bend near the vending machines, apparently discussing Brad, were a pudgy doctor with dark tan skin and a lounging kind of stance, and an attractive brunette nurse in her mid-twenties.

  “Tell me about it…” the nurse grumbled now, making a pouty face.

  “Here I’m the guy’s friend, and I never even knew you two were hooking up!” Manny exclaimed, sounding a bit put out.

  Sophia gave a quick, eager tug on the sleeve of Manny’s white lab coat. “Did he say anything to you? Because, I’m like, what the hell? He was all over me for months. Then it’s like, all of a sudden he’s not interested?”

  Manny appeared to be affecting a sympathetic pose, as he shrugged and stabbed blindly for the right answer. “What can I tell you? I mean, I love the guy, but sometimes Brad can be a grade-A, first-class prick. I’m supposed to play racquetball with him tomorrow morning and I’m barely looking forward to it,” he commiserated casually.

  Kathryn’s stomach roiled as she lingered in front of the vending machine, taking in every disturbing word. Months? Was that what the girl had said? How could she be involved with Brad for months? That would mean--

  “I just wish I understood why he blew me off like that!” Sophia continued. “A few weeks ago, his girlfriend dropped out of that study and the two of them finally broke up. I was starting to think I’d never get rid of that girl! And then Brad starts blowing me off out of nowhere. It makes no sense!”

  Kathryn felt all her muscles stiffen as she remained composed in the face of a disgusting, unavoidable truth. So then she hadn’t misheard or misunderstood a moment ago. Apparently, Brad had been seeing this woman at the same time he was dating Andy. Anger rose up in Kathryn’s chest, as Sophia vented more salacious details.

  “How do you go from having sex in the on-call room and hooking up at his place to just ignoring me?” she ranted. “These days, Brad’s polite to me in the hallways as if we’re barely acquaintances!”

  Supportively--or maybe opportunistically--Manny tapped her shoulder. “I can’t stand the thought of a beautiful girl getting down over a guy like Brad. C’mon, let’s see that smile. Good, that’s it. Listen, how about a drink later?”

  Ignoring his invitation, Sophia tugged on his sleeve again as she implored, “Manny, tell me the truth. Is he seeing someone else?”

  “Hey, clearly the guy keeps me in the dark about his love life,” Manny maintained, holding his palms up.

  “But have you heard anything?”

  “Well…”

  “Tell me,” she urged.

  “You know I don’t like to start trouble, but…” Carefully, Manny paused and looked over his shoulder, before blabbing, “Heard he might be chatting up Xlya in Orthopedics.”

  “Xyla?”

  Just then an announcement sounded over the loud speaker. “Dr. Suárez to O.R.-Three. Dr. Suárez to O.R.-Three.” Almost simultaneously, Manny checked his pager, which was partially hidden by his belly. “That’s me. I’ve got to go,” he told her. “But hey, don’t look so sad. Some Ortho nurse has got nothing on you.” At that, Sophia offered a small, begrudging smile. “Really--you can’t give up on men,” Manny continued, backing up a few steps, still facing her as he walked away. “Let me know about that drink, okay?”

  As he disappeared from view, Kathryn snapped her face away quickly, so that Sophia wouldn’t catch her watching. Just as she reached down to retrieve her full cup of coffee from the machine, she heard Sophia flounce off in a huff.

  Normally the aroma of coffee calmed Kathryn’s nerves. Now it only furthered her sudden queasiness. God, was it possible that Brad had actually been cheating on Andy for months before they broke up? Why on earth would he do that? Andy was sweet and beautiful, Kathryn thought with maternal pride--and a certain amount of burgeoning fury. Did Brad actually prefer a woman like this nurse, Sophia? A girl who was so low-class, she apparently thought nothing of broadcasting her sex life in the hallway of her work place?

  Almost in a trance, Kathryn retraced her steps to the meeting room, unsettled and b
affled. And soon consumed with anger. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that Brad’s demeanor with Andy had been a lie. He’d always been so charming and attentive--he had to have cared about her. Who was that good of an actor? And to what end?

  Thinking more about it, Kathryn held to her belief that yes, Brad cared about Andy…but only as much as a philanderer could care. My God, she thought in amazement, before switching to acidic self-reproach: Had she ever really known Brad Trewell at all?

  Chapter Forty-two

  “Hello,” Emma said, sounding reluctant when Tragan called her back.

  “Emma, thanks for answering,” he said honestly, because she was his only hope at this point. There was no way Andy’s mother was going to help Tragan see Andy before she left. He knew how close Emma and Andy were, though, and he hoped he could persuade her to hear him out.

  “As I told your friend,” she said, sounding somewhat distant, “you should be talking to Andy directly. Not going through me.”

  “I’ve tried!” Tragan said. “I can’t get a hold of her. I’ve tried calling and texting, but she won’t respond to me. Look, I know I hurt Andy--believe me, I know that--and that’s why I have to talk to her. Emma, I had the best intentions. I only wanted…” He struggled with how to phrase the truth without making a bunch of pathetic excuses. “I didn’t want to hold Andy back from going to London, but I realize now that I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know she’s going--but I can’t bear for her to leave thinking that there was something wrong with her, or that I stopped loving her. Because nothing could be more wrong. Andy is everything to me. She’s literally the sweetest, coolest girl I’ve ever met in my life, and I just need to make sure she knows that.”

  “Well…she’s leaving tomorrow,” Emma told him.

  Tragan’s pulse was pounding now, his heart galloping hard. Tomorrow?! Shit, he was almost out of time! “Please,” he implored, “tell me what time she’s going. What flight is she on?”

  Cautiously, Emma asked, “Wait, are you going to try to stop her from leaving?”

  Tragan was hesitant to admit that part, for fear that Emma would hold back the information. So he evaded the question somewhat. “I just need to make sure she knows that I love her and that I’ve always loved her. That there was nothing wrong with her and nothing I could ever want more in any other girl.” Holding his emotions together, he finished, “I can’t let her go thinking that I broke up with her because she’s sick. Or any other reason she might imagine. I need to tell her that I fucked up--but that she was perfect.”

  When Emma was quiet on the other end, Tragan resisted the sense of defeat that was descending on him, and said: “Will you help me?”

  ~

  Andy had been at Logan Airport, sitting in a line of hard chairs, for about an hour. That morning her mom had thrown her an informal goodbye breakfast with a few of her friends, and Emma had taken her to the airport. Her dominant emotion at the moment was boredom; she had taken out her ipod a few times, but on each attempt, nothing appealed to her and she shoved it back in her pocket. Now she glanced around, checking the overhead clock out of habit.

  Just then a guy sat down in the chair next to hers. He was young, probably straight out of college, with slightly shaggy blonde hair. Barely a minute went by before his knee started bouncing. When he caught Andy noticing, he gave a deprecating smile. “Sorry.”

  “Nervous flyer?” she said, her tone sympathetic.

  “No, no,” he assured her. “I’d never say ‘nervous’ because, you know, I’m a strong, virile man,” he declared with blatantly false confidence. Now she could tell he was flirting with her. Flirting despite his fear of flying, which was sort of flattering. “But I don’t like to fly, let’s put it that way,” he added with a grin.

  “I understand,” she told him.

  “Oh, you get jumpy, too?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “No.”

  “Great, thanks,” he teased her with a laugh.

  She surprised herself by giggling. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

  Still looking edgy, he nodded and didn’t question how she could make such a promise. With his knee still bouncing, he began tapping his thumb on the armrest. “Been to London before?” he asked after a moment.

  “Yes, a couple of years ago with my sister.”

  “Oh, I’m Dave, by the way,” he added, extending his hand.

  “Andy.”

  As she shook Dave’s hand, she heard a male voice call: “Andy!”

  Startled, she whipped her head around. In her heart and in the back of her mind, she thought it might be…

  It was!

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide as she watched Tragan hurrying toward her. He was carrying a duffel bag and wore an intense expression on his face. Andy’s heart jumped so fiercely in her chest, she might have stopped breathing for a second. Without thinking, she came to her feet.

  “Andy, thank God I made it…” Tragan breathed when he finally reached her. Before she could say anything, he dropped his duffel bag on the floor, took her by the waist and pulled her in for a hug. For an insane, helpless second, she let him--even brought her hands up to grip his jacket--when, abruptly, she regained her senses and pushed back.

  Now she was keeping Tragan at a distance with her palms on his ribs--and with a deliberate remoteness in her gaze. Of course her true emotions, buried beneath her fear and pride, were joy, relief, even euphoria…bundled up, looking for an excuse to burst out. Still, she kept her guard up. For all she knew, he might only be there to partake in some patronizing, protracted goodbye. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I’m going with you,” Tragan answered, his voice gravelly and intense.

  “What? You want to…? Wait. How did you even know which flight I was on?”

  Tragan tried to press closer to her, but she still held him off with her palms. “Emma took pity on me and gave me your flight information,” he explained. “I’m sorry I had to call your sister, but you wouldn’t answer any of my calls or texts and I was desperate to see you again.”

  Now Andy’s heart was fluttering wildly in her chest. “Fine, so now you’ve seen me,” she said, crossing her arms, glaring up at him. Yes, he might look breathtakingly handsome right now--with his disheveled hair and unshaven face and red-rimmed, sleepless eyes--but that didn’t mean she could jump into his arms like nothing happened. Could she?

  No way. She still hated him a little. The kind of hate you could only feel for someone you loved.

  “I’m coming to London with you,” Tragan reiterated, then searched her eyes, silently pleading with her. “If you’ll let me,” he was quick to add. Unwittingly, Andy’s hands began to slide from his ribs, losing their resistance power, and despite her unapproachable stance, he approached. He put his hands on her upper arms, cupping them tenderly but with a certain possessiveness that filled her with hope. “Andy, I’m so sorry for what I did, for…I fucked up so badly. I was just trying to…”

  Without warning, tears sprung to her eyes, stinging as she tried to blink them back. “Trying to what?” she said, confused and impatient.

  “I thought that I was holding you back from maybe getting better. I was trying to do the right thing, but I realize now how fucking stupid I was,” he said, his eyes appearing sad now. “Obviously the right thing could never be to let you go.” He edged up even closer. He lowered his voice a fraction as he said thickly, “I love you, Andy. I love you so much.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, betraying her. Followed by another, and yet another. She was always a hot mess for Tragan; why should this moment be any different? But could she really just forgive and forget after the way he’d hurt her?

  “You said it was all ‘too much’ for you,” she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, looking toward the floor, not able to handle looking into Tragan’s face right now.

  “I lied. I didn’t mean it,” he insisted fervently. “I swear on my l
ife, I never meant any of that, but I couldn’t think of any way to get you to want to leave me and go to London. It just seemed like Ethan and then your mom…” He seemed to be grappling with the right words, as Andy thought: When did he talk to my mom about this? “It just seemed like everyone thought this could be a great thing for you,” Tragan went on. “I didn’t want to be the one keeping you back. I thought if we took a short break, you’d go, but I never wanted to lose you. So that’s why I’m coming with you.” He brought his warm, roughened palms to her cheeks, holding her face gently. “I told you we’d get through everything, remember?” he added huskily.

  Now she was looking up into his emotion-ravaged face, and though tears kept slipping from her eyes of their own accord, her heart suddenly felt fuller, healthier again. Her voice wobbled as she said, “But you let me go.”

  “No, I couldn’t let you go,” Tragan told her. “Can’t you see that? That’s why I’ve been bothering you so much. That’s why I’m here. Andy, please. This whole week has been complete torture. I just can’t be without you.”

  “Well…what about your job? The apartment? Your life here?”

  “You’re my life,” he replied simply, sounding comfortably resigned to that fact, and brought his mouth closer to hers. Hesitating for only a second or two, Tragan kissed her. The kiss was unassuming, a little tentative, and softly romantic. “Please, I love you…” he whispered against her lips.

  With another sniffle, Andy murmured, “I’m tempted not to say I love you back. Just to make you feel like crap.”

  Tragan gave a solemn nod. “I understand.”

  Almost immediately, she called her own bluff. “But I love you, too,” she admitted with ardent emotion, losing any interest in concealing the fact. Wrapping her arms around Tragan’s neck, she let out a weak, thready sigh, as relief overwhelmed her--and Tragan engulfed her in a tight bear hug, holding her like he never planned to let go.