Andrew stepped confidently out his door and headed for the lift. This was the night, had to be. He'd let her go—big mistake in the first place—and then waited too long to get her back.
As much as his friends might mock him for it, he believed she was "the one." No doubt in his mind. He tried not to think about the fact that SHE seemed to have enough doubt for both of them. He just needed to talk to her.
When he got to the street, he headed in the direction of The Angry Dragon, their favourite pub. Hadn't Beckett always said she loved it for the name alone? And they'd both been delighted when they'd found out the food and the atmosphere was as good as the strong, rich single malt Scotch the bartender served them. Funny, that, how they'd both loved Scotch—he'd never met a woman before who savoured it as he did. Was that when he had first felt the pull of her personality, first known here was an exceptional woman? Could be. But every day since then, he'd known it a little deeper, a little stronger.
Why didn't she see it?
As he continued down the street, oblivious to the rush of London's life around him, Andrew thought about that. Why had she turned him down? He'd thought she felt the same way. Maybe he'd taken too much for granted. Because when he'd started talking about commitment, she was the one who had shied away, gotten "friendly" instead of really listening to him, to what he felt compelled to say. Definitely not what he'd expected. But why—why hadn't he seen her reluctance?
He'd certainly never expected her to just . . . leave. That had left him open-mouthed and stunned. No—this was NOT the way it was supposed to happen. He’d suggested they move in together and had only rosy plans for the future in his mind, and Beckett—well, she’d got that deer in the headlights look and bolted. Leaving him shocked and without a plan B of any kind.
Andrew cursed himself as he thought about how badly he had handled that—mainly because he had been completely unprepared for her response. And so, he had let her go, and now suddenly it was a month since she had quietly slipped out of his life, not responding to phone calls, claiming to be busy when he wanted to talk, and gradually just . . . gone. He was bewildered, and in need of an explanation, if nothing else.
No, he told himself, I need a lot more than that. I need her. It came down to that one thing, and nothing else. She was the one, and he had to get her back.
But as he saw the front door of the pub suddenly in front of him, Andrew paused. What if she said no again? What if she turned him down flat, in front of everyone? Because surely all their friends would be there, too. He was the one who had been avoiding the place.
Andrew took a deep breath, grasped the handle of the pub's door, and walked in.
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