He looks at one white envelope awkwardly for a moment and holds it up, glancing at me first until Andrew walks into the room.
“Looks like this is yours?” He glances at me again, but hands the envelope to Andrew.
I get the strangest feeling from it, so instinctively I get up from the recliner and walk up next to Andrew to check it out.
Just before Andrew moves it out of my view and lets his hand drop to his side with the envelope clasped within it, I see Natalie’s name scrawled across the front.
He knows I saw it, too.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll let you see it some other time.” And then he slips the envelope into the back pocket of his jeans.
I totally trust him, but I’m human and a small part of me is nervous about this whole situation. Why would Natalie be sending Andrew letters? Trust or not, the first thing that always comes to mind, no matter who you are, is wondering if something might really be going on between them. But that’s absurd, and I push that thought out of my head as fast as it came.
They’re plotting against me.
I just wish I knew what was going on.
Day Five
I talk to Natalie, my mom, and then to Marna on the phone today. Marna tries to act as if nothing ever happened with the baby, and she does as good a job as Michelle did my first day in Chicago. She’s so kind and careful. My mom, on the other hand, can’t seem to talk about much other than mine and Andrew’s relationship. She hounds me every chance she gets about when we’re getting married, and she has it set in stone that we’re doing it the same way everybody else does. I try to tell her that I don’t want a fancy dress or a chapel or thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers that are going to die the week after, but it’s as if she doesn’t even hear me. She just wants us married. Maybe that’ll make her feel better about him sleeping in my room. I have no idea what goes on inside my mom’s head, and half the time I don’t think she does, either.
Andrew goes to a doctor today here in Chicago for a checkup. And like every time he goes to one, I’m sick to my stomach until it’s over. Thankfully, he came back with good news.
Day Six
I talk to Natalie again on the phone, but I still don’t bring up anything about the envelope. She’s not acting herself much, either. It’s obvious she’s trying really hard not to spill any of Andrew’s secrets, which only makes for conversations full of awkward, silent moments. I want to laugh at her for sucking at acting normal when all she wants to do is tell me everything and get it over with.
Day Seven
This One Week has been one of the longest weeks of my life. I hang around in bed because it’s starting to get colder, but I’m also nervous and just can’t bring myself to do anything else. Andrew was up an hour ago, and I’ve only seen him come back into the room once, and that was to find his shoes. He kissed me and smiled down at me like he was secretly excited and then walked back out without saying a word.
I roll over onto my side, curled up within the blanket, and stare out the window. The sun is shining bright today, and the sky is blue and cloudless.
I hear the three of them stirring in the house.
Andrew’s shoes squeak down the hardwood floor outside our room. He opens the bedroom door and stands in the doorway, looking across at me.
“Get up and get dressed,” he says with his hand still on the knob.
I just look at him for a second, thinking maybe he’s going to explain what for, but he just points at my shoes on the floor as if to say to put them on, then closes the door and leaves me here.
I do exactly as he says. I get up and put on my favorite jeans and a long-sleeved, oversized knit sweater, then a pair of socks and my loafers. When I head out of the room and into the den, Michelle is curled up in the corner of the couch with a blanket over her legs watching TV. She turns her head to see me, and she’s smiling warmly as if she knows something I don’t. And surely she does.
“He’s outside with Aidan,” she says, nodding in the direction of the front door.
Growing more nervous, I walk slowly to the door and open it.
Stepping out onto the rock front porch, I see Andrew and Aidan standing on the side of the road in front of the house with Asher, and they’re all leaning against the side of the Chevelle.
For a moment, I’m thinking, All right, so Asher visiting is what this is all about? Not that I’m not happy to see Asher, but face it, that’s not something I would think would warrant this hush-hush thing Andrew has been planning.
It’s the car, I realize, but that’s about all I put together on my own. I have a theory as to why he’s here with it, but at this point I’m just going to try my best not to think about that.
I walk quickly down the rock steps and give Asher a big hug.
“You’re lookin’ great, girl,” he says with those nearly identical Andrew dimples and bright green eyes. Then he squeezes me tight and lifts me a little off my feet.
“It’s great to see you,” I say, beaming.
I keep glancing between him and Andrew, who’s smiling so hugely that I doubt he’ll be able to hold in whatever it is for much longer.
I look at the Chevelle and then at Asher. I do it again.
“So, you drove all the way from…” OK, so this is a little more confusing than I anticipated at first. The car was in Texas, and as far as I know, Asher was in Wyoming. Finally, I continue, “What’s going on?”
Asher looks at Andrew, and Andrew steps out front and center. “I had Asher drive the car here,” he says.