8.4

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note: well, I was feeling impatient to post this chapter so here it is. Double update weekend whooo! Enjoy and please don't hesitate to comment your thoughts/feedback <3 


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The two vacation days that Andrew had taken off from work flew by in the blink of an eye and he was still as stuck as when he first came to Ipswich on Saturday.

It was relieving to be able to pick and drop Aurora to and from school, to talk to a few of her teachers and see how his little girl was settling in. He enjoyed their time together and he savoured it because he'd have to go back to Porte Orlands soon. He wished she was small enough for him to fit her in his pocket and steal her away. There shouldn't be a problem with Aurora living with Andrew for a few days, going back and forth between mother and father, but Andrew could never do that. Aurora had school, had a life to build, and as a man of routine he struggled to grasp how constant change would be effective to his daughter's growth and wellbeing.

Tuesday night, when he should have been well on his way back to Porte Orlands, he sat on the couch in Talia's and Simon's living room, phone in hand as he considered what he should do. The rational part of him told him to go back to Porte Orlands, to get ready for work tomorrow, buy flowers for London and try to make it up to her with dinner. The other side of him told him to follow his heart, to stay here and make at least some progress with Talia. At this point, the end result didn't matter — the progress did.

He played with the phone in his hand until he came to a decision. Before he could second guess it, he unlocked his phone and called London. After their fight on Sunday morning, Andrew texted London only to receive a terse reply. When he called her, she declined the call. He had called her on Monday as well but again she didn't pick up. Before he could wonder if she'll even pick up this time around, she answered the call.

"Andrew!" she exclaimed, her voice airy. "I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" he quizzed. After the way they left things on Sunday morning, he didn't think she thought much of him, especially when she barely texted back and didn't bother to answer his calls.

She giggled. "It's hard not to think of you, Andrew Cai." There was a rattle in the background. "Oops, nearly tipped my glass. Work was exhausting and thinking about you was exhausting. I needed to relax so that's what I'm doing with a glass of wine. I'm so glad you called."

Andrew exhaled loudly, leaning back on the couch. Thinking about him was exhausting? What did she mean? "Really?" he asked instead. "You didn't want to pick up my calls before but now you're glad I called?"

"I miss you but you'll never put me first and I was angry about that," she said, her voice still airy and light.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, sitting up straight, now more concerned.

"Not exactly. Just a little tipsy. I haven't had much to drink," she laughed him off.

"You're a lightweight, London," he stated, running a hand down his face. She was drinking because of him and he suspected she had more than just the odd one glass.

"I can handle myself," she replied, the light and airiness to her voice gone, replaced by something more hostile and defensive.

He knew she could handle herself but the fact that he contributed somehow in her picking up more than just one glass of wine tonight left him worried. Her words finally clicked into his head and eyebrows furrowed, confusion evident, he asked, "You're angry that I'll never put you first?"

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