Struck from the Record (12 page)

“I have an idea,” Clay murmured.

“I’m listening.”

“You come back to my place.”

Andrea groaned. “You want me to come to your bachelor pad? You should have gotten a hotel in the city.”

“Come on, Andrea. Just you and me. Alone.”

“Can I burn the sheets?”

“Whatever turns you on, baby.”

“No,” she said with a sad sigh. “We should stay and be here for your parents and Brady. Liz is new at all of this. She’s navigating it well, but she’s not used to this kind of stuff. I kind of like helping her with it when I can.”

Clay’s eyes widened. “Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“Oh, don’t think I’ve turned into a sap on you. She’s just…nice.”

“She is.”

“And,” she said quickly, “you didn’t fuck her.”

He laughed. “No, I didn’t.”

“So, I can actually welcome her into the family. I want her and Brady to do well, you know?” Andrea’s eyes swept over to where Brady had his arm locked protectively around Liz’s waist.

They were deep in conversation with some other couple. Liz looked radiant and undeniably happy.

“I know just what you mean.”

“Clay Maxwell!” Andrea said. “Are
you
becoming a sap on me?”

“No.”

“But you want your
brother
to be happy? With a girl
you
pursued?”

Clay shrugged. “When you put it like that…”

Andrea stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your brother that you actually love him.”

“You’re insane, woman.”

“I just know you too well, Mr. Maxwell.”

“Well, if you aren’t going to get to know me better in a more…biblical sense, then you’d better go over there and help my future sister-in-law.”

Andrea giggled and walked over to Liz. She linked arms with Liz and drew her away from Brady. Brady’s eyes locked with Clay’s across the distance, and he nodded curtly, as if entrusting him with his most precious cargo. Clay nodded back and watched as Andrea worked her magic with Liz in the room for the next hour.

By the time they could finally extricate themselves from the day’s events to get ready for the inaugural ball later that evening, they were both wiped out, and Andrea was late for her hairstylist appointment at her apartment. Just because of the crowds, it was hell, getting back to her place. But Clay knew he’d have a while to wait as Andrea got ready for the events of the night.

Andrea kissed him deeply on the lips before scampering upstairs. He changed into his tux and waited for her…for what felt like forever. And, when she reappeared, he missed everything she was wearing and simply stared at the beautiful woman. All he saw were long and lean legs, sexy, curvy hips, soft breasts spilling out of the top, and that perfect face smiling back at him.

“Fuck.”

“That good?”

“Hell yeah. Better than good.” He stepped up to her and ran his hands over every square inch of material he could touch. “More like, I’m going to tear this dress off, like I did the last one, to get to exactly what I want underneath it.”

Andrea smirked at him and planted a light kiss on his lips. “As much as I’d adore that, I thought we could maybe…talk for a minute?”

“You’d rather talk than spend the next ten minutes fucking before the limo arrives?”

She just walked across the room and took a seat on the sofa. He followed her, leaning back into the corner and draping his arm across the back.

“It’s not that I want to skip having sex with you. The sex has been…amazing. Even better than normal, and it’s always really great,” she said. Andrea didn’t fidget or squirm like he thought most girls would when she had something serious she wanted to say to him. She just looked him square in the eyes and delivered her carefully constructed speech. “But I want more than great sex, Clay.”

“You do?” he asked cautiously.

“When you were attacked, something…changed. It shifted the paradigm of our relationship. It made me realize how much you mean to me, and I think it showed you how much I mean to you. I know I did something incredibly stupid by trying to make you jealous, and you got hurt. I can never tell you how sorry I am.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Andrea.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.”

She took a deep breath, and he saw a flicker of fear cross her features.

What could be so important that it would rattle Andrea?

“I just want us to be on the same page. When we were at the art gallery and you stood up to Asher for me…” Her hand went to her stomach. “I have never been happier than in that moment. You claimed me as your own. You were completely serious when you were protective of me. For a moment, I knew that must be what Liz felt like when she was with Brady.”

“What?” Clay choked out.

Fire alarms were going off in his head.

This was not the conversation he’d thought they were going to be having.
She thinks that we’re like Liz and Brady? She thinks that the paradigm of our relationship has shifted because I scared off that douche bag?

“Ever since that happened, I’ve really felt like you and I are in tune, in sync. And I’ve realized that I like the direction we’ve taken.”

“You…do?”

She nodded. “This is what I never knew I wanted. For so long, I thought that it would be easier to close myself off to escape the abandonment I’d always felt from my parents. But it’s been fifteen years, Clay. Ten years of dating. I don’t think we’re going anywhere. And I just want this to stay that way, not to go back to being closed off and uncaring.”

“Okay,” he said slowly.

“Do you get what I’m saying?” she asked. Her blue eyes were wide and hopeful.

“Yeah,” he answered carefully. “You want us to stay the same.”

She slowly breathed out through her nose. “No, I want us to grow. I think we’re growing. I want to be with you, Clay. This works for us.”

He nodded, his head buzzing with her words. She seemed satisfied that he was nodding along, but internally, he was freaking the fuck out.

What exactly did growing together mean? Did that mean she wanted to change how things had been? Did she want us to stop sleeping around?

Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how serious Andrea had been about ending all the games.

“So…where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Why don’t we just go to the ball as a couple and see where the night takes us?”

Chapter 11

SAME PAGE, DIFFERENT BOOK

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

He had fucked up.

He had definitely fucked up.

Andrea thought they were on the same page. She thought that what had happened with Bad Suit and the way Clay had acted that night had changed things. She thought the attack had changed things.

As far as Clay was concerned, the only things that had changed were that he had wheezed for a few weeks, and he was fifteen hundred dollars poorer.

This shit with Andrea felt the same as it had every day before it. Did he care about her? Of course. He always had. He always would. She was that person to him. The one he’d never walk away from, who always totally got him, no explanation necessary.

But that didn’t mean they were on the same page. Because Andrea was talking about mushy feelings that he, as a grown-ass man, was not interested in thinking about. Shit had been fucking fine for too long to
shift the paradigm
of their relationship.

He hadn’t thought that claiming her in front of Bad Suit would have this kind of reaction.
Has she already been thinking like this, and the night at the art gallery has just solidified it?

What he did know…was that he was freaking out.

He was trying to control it. They still had to get through the ball tonight. But the idea of a relationship, a real goddamn relationship, made him want to turn tail and run in the other fucking direction.

Andrea kept shooting him curious glances in the short limo ride to the inaugural ball. He probably should have said something to ease her anxiety. It wasn’t like he was leaving, but they needed to have another conversation about this
new
direction. He just figured that having that conversation right before they were about to go out in public wasn’t the best idea.

They arrived at the inaugural ball in style. Their limo dropped them off at the front entrance, and Clay helped Andrea out of the car before they walked into the room. It was a giant space, big enough for the enormous crowd that was supposed to arrive tonight. Cash bars were sporadically placed around the room, and there were light hors d’oeuvres on tables. Clay knew the after-party was where the real action would happen, but this event allowed lobbyists to schmooze with politicians in a fluid manner since dinner wouldn’t actually be served. He couldn’t wait to get shit-faced at the after-party. It was like the
Vanity Fair
Oscars after-party for politicians.

Andrea wrapped her hand around his elbow and smiled. “Shall we?”

He nodded, and they meandered through the room. They found Brady in a more secluded area with Liz on his arm. As Clay and Andrea approached, Brady was chatting with some of his fellow politicians.

Liz extended her left hand to the group. “Yes. This June. We’re both very excited,” she said.

“A wedding for the ages,” one woman said, leaning forward and examining the ring.

Clay knew that he should be able to recognize most of the people here, but his thoughts were back in Andrea’s apartment.

“It’s going to be beautiful,” Andrea said.

“It’s going to be sweltering,” Clay corrected. “Asheville in June. Even with the mountains, it’s going to be hot and humid.”

“You wear a suit every day. It’ll be fine,” Andrea said.

“Oh, don’t complain, Clay,” Liz teased. “It’ll be you next anyway.”

“Excuse me?”

“Clay,” Andrea warned.

Brady laughed and clapped his brother on the back. “Don’t take everything so seriously, Clay. She just meant that you and Andrea have been together forever. You’re clearly a match. It’s not crazy to think that you’d be next getting married. God forbid, it’s Savannah!”

The rest of the group burst into laughter, as if what Brady had said was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard. Of course, Clay knew that Savannah wouldn’t be getting married anytime soon. She was seven years younger than him. There was no way. Over his dead body.

So, that technically made him next on the list. But that didn’t mean right now. And it certainly didn’t mean anytime soon with Andrea talking about changing their relationship. Marriage and babies weren’t high on his list. Actually, they’d never even touched the list.

“I need a drink,” he said before turning and walking away.

No one followed him. He was better off. He needed to get his shit together and figure out what he was going to say to Andrea later.

A few minutes later, he returned with a whiskey in hand and a glass of champagne for Andrea. He hoped, after a glass or two of this, he would be able to relax a little. He certainly needed it.

Andrea intercepted him and took the champagne from him. “How thoughtful.”

“Mmm,” he said, taking another sip of his whiskey. He’d asked the bartender to pour him a shot before he got this one, but apparently, that was in poor taste. So, he’d had to down one of these before collecting her champagne.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Let’s talk about it later.”

“Clay…”

“Later, Andrea.”

“You can’t admit something is wrong and then not tell me what it is,” she insisted. “I do have emotions, you know?”

“You made that quite clear.”

“What does that mean?” she snapped. Her eyebrows rose sharply.

“It means that, because you have developed those emotions out of nowhere, you should not ask me to talk through them with you in public,” he said plainly.

She narrowed her eyes and then tossed back the champagne like it was a fucking shot.
Damn! That’s impressive
. He’d practically cringed, watching her do it.

“You think, because I’ve decided to tell you how I feel, I’ll just let you walk all over me? I’m not, nor will I ever be, one of those girls you can treat like shit and ignore, Clay Maxwell,” she said evenly. “I’ve known you for fifteen years. I’ve been in your bed for nearly as long. I know you inside and out. I’m not an idiot. I know that what Brady said back there freaked you the fuck out.”

“And?” he snapped.

“And what?”

“And what do you think? Do you think this is leading us to that shit? Is that what you meant when you said we were like Brady and Liz?”

“God! Why do you have to jump to conclusions?” she demanded. She grabbed his arm and pulled him farther away from the crowd. “Did I say I wanted us to get married and have kids?”

“No, but…”

“No. I didn’t say that. I said I wanted us to be a couple. So, why can’t we act like that?”

“Because this isn’t
us
, Andrea!”

“What isn’t us?” she asked. “
This
is exactly us. This is what we do. We go to functions together. We play boyfriend and girlfriend. We pretend to be just like everyone else. How is this any different?”

“Because we’re not pretending. You actually want us to be like that,” he told her. “And I don’t know if I want that.”

Andrea took a small step back. “You seemed like you wanted that when we talked at my place. You seemed on board. Why won’t you just try with me, Clay? Just try? I mean, you claimed me as your girlfriend to Asher. You pushed him away, fucking ran him off, so that he’d never even look at me again, but you don’t want me?”

“I want you,” he said. He dropped a hand onto her hip and pulled her closer. “I really, really want you.”

“Ugh!” she snapped. She pushed him away from her. “Not like that. That’s not what I meant at all, and you know it!”

“What? So, now, you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“This isn’t about sex. This is about you being terrified of having a relationship. I mean, I would understand if it were someone you had just met. If you were so afraid of doing this because you didn’t really know the person and had no clue how they would treat you. But this is me,” she said. Her voice dipped down, and she sounded so vulnerable. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, and she closed them to try to keep them at bay. “This is me, Clay.”