The Way Back | ✓

8.5

note: I've been waiting to write and post this chapter for so long. I can't wait to see your reactions. Comment your thoughts/feedback and do vote if you liked this chapter. Enjoy! <3 

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London did not look forward to Andrew returning home.

That was not something she expected herself to feel but if he came home she'd have to go through with the confrontation. They were going to talk things out tonight but in the back of her mind, she knew that tonight would not end well and the dread of facing him was eating at her. She wished they could somehow erase the last few days, take back the words they said that questioned their relationship, but she couldn't do that to herself.

She deserved an honest, two-way relationship and if she did not get what she deserved she should do something about it.

There was a knock on her apartment door and soon after her phone buzzed with a message. Her nerves spiked as she took a look at her phone to see that Andrew had texted her, letting her know that he was right outside her door.

Breathing in and out, she collected herself, smoothened a hand down the red dress she took almost an hour to pick out, and walked to her door. Putting on a smile, she opened the door to find Andrew, a bottle of wine in hand and a box of chocolates in the other.

He smiled and she almost forgot why she was angry at him. "I was going to get you flowers but I knew you would love it if I got you chocolates instead."

"And expensive wine," she chuckled nervously, looking up at him through her lashes. Tentatively, they both closed the distance between them. She kissed him, softly — slowly. He tasted of mint, like he had a stick of chewing gum before. He smelled like him. He felt warm. She wanted to sink into him, to drag her hands through his hair and get lost into him but she resisted, kissing him one last time before pulling back.

"I missed you," she whispered, her fingers brushing against his grown stubble, that almost looked like a beard. There was no denying that the beard made him look even sexier, making her hands itch for more.

"Me too," he replied hoarsely, dipping his head for more.

She shifted her head. His lips brushed against her cheek. Her heart dropped when she looked back at him to see his surprised and heavy-hearted face.

"Let's have dinner."

Dinner went by faster than she'd anticipated but with conversation scarce — the tension in the room was so thick anybody would be able to notice it — they spent most of the dinner eating rather than talking, which was not how most of their dinners went. They had never been awkward with each other and this unwelcome tension was making her stomach riot with uncontrollable nerves.

"Andrew," she said, when dinner was over and they each had a glass of that expensive wine he'd bought over. "We need to talk."

He huffed, placing down his glass on the coaster on her coffee table. "All right," he said, then gave London a half-smile. "I've been nervous for this."

"Me too," she agreed, letting herself smile too.

She took a moment to take in his face. His smile was lovely as always, making her own lips reflect his. His eyes were warm pools of brown that she could get lost in. His kindness made her heart soft. The way he was with his daughter made her admire him even more. He was strong-willed and his determination to fight for what he wanted made her love him all the more. She loved him not despite, but in spite of, the fact that he hated to cook, something she could not survive without doing. She loved him even when he was making her heart ache. She loved him even when he refused to part ways with that ugly wedding ring. She loved him.