He’d stroked her body, whispered her name, released himself inside her, and then he’d left just as the clock struck midnight, stammering something about convenience and late that she couldn’t quite make out because his voice was half-crazed. Even before he’d thrown on his clothes and practically sprinted out the door, it had sounded like an excuse to leave, which he’d done without so much as a kiss good-bye.
Meredith pulled the covers more tightly around her and stared up at the ceiling, trying not to cry. She’d failed so miserably. What had she been thinking, trying to be someone she wasn’t? Pretending to be the kind of woman who belonged in that dress, in those glasses, with that man. She should be ashamed.
So…why wasn’t she?
Why, instead of shame, was it anger that she was feeling?
“Because you weren’t pretending,” she whispered, sitting up abruptly and smacking the comforter. “I wasn’t pretending!” she shouted into the room, feeling her anger rise. Anger at Andrew, at the foster system, at the loneliness of Christmas, but most of all, anger at herself.
She’d spent so many years denying this part of who she was, thinking that she had no right to ask for what she wanted, that when she’d finally done it and claimed something for herself, it had taken a long time to recognize the woman who’d been hiding inside her for so long.
She hadn’t even been able to come again just now, when he’d been inside her, because a part of her was still too scared to ask for what she wanted. Her pleasure. Her needs. She’d felt him trying to withdraw, to turn all the focus back onto her, and she’d panicked and pulled him back inside, instead.
“You’re a fool, you know that?” she snipped out, launching herself out of bed to go to the bathroom, but the soreness between her legs made her wince and sink back down to sit on the edge of the bed. Damn. She hadn’t expected that it would hurt this much after the fact, given that she was thirty-one, for goodness’ sake. But it seemed her body was still adjusting to the new experience.
The thought gave her pause. Is that what had sent him running? Had he felt intimidated by being the first guy she’d had sex with? Or was he perhaps afraid she was going to ask for too much in exchange for her virginity? She snorted. Not that she had ever thought much of it. She’d just never met anyone who made her want to bother opening herself up that far.
But men often placed importance on that kind of thing. And Andrew, with his focus on helping others and giving to people in need, might especially feel as though he took too much. Except that didn’t seem like something he would think.
What do you know? You don’t really know anything about him!
Meredith shook her head. She’d been attracted to him from the first moment she’d met him, not just because of his looks, but because of the way he’d made her feel accepted. She’d made a general fool of herself during her interview, but he’d acted like it was no big deal, and by the end of the interview, she’d felt more confident.
It had been him all along. Working with him had shown her, in slow increments over these past couple of months, the value of her own self. It had only taken a small gesture, like inviting her to the gala and showing her just how worthy she could be, to make all of the little things she’d learned click into place. He’d seen something in her that had made him offer her the job at this new company. He’d had to have talked to Jon Myerberg beforehand about the offer… Andrew had seen what she was capable of even before she’d seen it.
And then he’d left her.
God. Was she destined to be alone forever? For so long, she had wished for something that everyone else in the world seemed to have. A family. A sense of belonging. Last night, she had felt like her wishes had finally come true. Andrew had not only made her think that he might fulfill that dream of belonging; he’d made her feel that she could finally break free from the loneliness that she’d endured for all these years.
Burden. Unwanted. Orphan.
The painful memories rose up, crowding into her thoughts next to the image of Andrew’s shocked face, his hasty good-bye. She felt the hot prick of tears behind her eyes, and for a moment she gave in to the hurt, allowing a mournful sob to escape.
Immediately, she pushed the hurt back in, defiance rising. No. She would not collapse. She would not allow herself to be beaten by this.
Except, why her? What had she done wrong?
“Does it matter?” she said to the empty room.
She couldn’t help but feel that the answering silence was mocking her, driving home the realization that she’d been abandoned by the only man she’d ever trusted enough to let inside—in every way. A new wave of self-pity washed over her, warring with the anger and making her feel even more confused about how she really felt.
“Enough!” She threw up her hands and growled in frustration. This whole situation could all too easily turn into a weekend-long pity party, and that wasn’t what she wanted. That wasn’t who she was.
She had to forget about Andrew, at least for a little while. There was something else she had to do first.