The Way Back | ✓

5.3

note: I am so nervous to post this chapter but I hope you all like it. Please do tell me your thoughts. I'd love to hear them. Happy reading <3 

P.S hoping to stick to a regular update schedule of once a week after finals (starting in July). 

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London listened carefully, a cup of lukewarm tea in her hands, as Andrew went on and on about Talia and the complex situation with his daughter. As he ranted, London could not help but think that this was exactly the sort of drama she didn't need in her life but her heart betrayed her mind for she knew that she wanted to be there, sitting next to him on the couch, sipping slowly at her warm tea as she listened to him.

She wanted to be there for him.

"I'm not asking for too much, am I?" Andrew ended in exasperation, his arms moving in frantic gestures. It was something that London picked up on. When he talked fast or spoke of something that he had a lot to say about, his hands followed the pitch of his voice — gestures frantic when his voice raised with the increased frequency of his words, and gestures to a minimum when his voice dropped to a soft but deep tone. London found that she liked listening to him in either instance.

"You're not," she said, shaking her head lightly. "You're not trying to server your daughter's connection with her mother. You want your daughter to have her mother in her life. But in doing so, it's making your life hell."

"That would be one way to put it," he laughed, rolling his eyes. His gaze settled on her and he gave her a slight nod, his lips lifting up into a small smile. "It feels good to get this out of my system and off my chest."

"I know the feeling." Gwen and her were getting closer these days and if they hadn't reconciled their differences over their mother's death, London knew that she'd be as stuck as she'd been for the last four years. It was good to have somebody who could relate to you, someone who could understand what you were going through, and though London could not identify herself with Andrew's situation, she certainly understood why he felt the way he felt. Why he was hurting. She imagined herself in his shoes and knew if it were her, she'd have bad breakdowns again. But it was a thing of the past.

Things were better.

She was better.

"London," Andrew called, bringing her attention back to him. "Are you all right?"

She sipped at the last of her tea and set it down on the coffee table. She noticed that he didn't have any coasters and made a mental note to buy him a few the next time she went shopping. His question did not stun her or take her by surprise. She knew that he'd seen the heartbreak on her face when he saw her in the kitchen but with all that went down today, with his ex-wife and his daughter leaving his care, she felt silly to be upset over the rejection of a position.

"It's not important."

"You're a terrible liar," he said, with a serious expression. "It is important if you came all the way here. You can tell me. I'm all ears."

She looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. It was not that he was prying because he wasn't. His gaze wasn't scrutinising either. She felt ashamed. Not for feeling that way she did — okay, maybe a little bit — but mostly because she didn't land the position she was positive was hers.

Almost hers.

"I didn't get the job," she said, her voice low that she was sure he hadn't heard her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Honestly? I feel so bloody useless," she confided in him, steeling herself before she lifted her eyes to his. There was no judgement, only sincere understanding in those sharp handsome features of his.