"What?" She choked on the word, obviously trying to hold back tears.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to look at her. If he tried hard enough, maybe he could make his face expressionless and stony. Maybe he could do one thing right by the Archer family. He could leave them the hell alone.
"Don't make me say it again, Andy."
"No, say it. I want you to." Her voice broke on the last word, and though tears fell from her eyes as she blinked them back, she still faced him with defiance.
"I have a new image now. Thanks to you." He set his jaw and went on, "It would ruin everything if I was seen with someone like you."
He was the worst person to have ever walked the earth.
"You're lying," she choked.
"Why would I lie?" He raised an eyebrow, willing himself to keep talking. He had to finish the conversation, to say something he could never come back from. "I've already fucked you, what else would I need now?"
He was worse than scum. Worse than world-ending disease or the apocalypse. From tonight until the rest of time, he would hate himself for this, but he had to remember it was the only way. Andy would never be happy in the end unless she was miserable right now.
"Fuck. You." The tears were rolling freely down her cheeks, but her lips were still pressed together in a hard line of determination.
He swallowed hard and hoped she hadn't noticed. Luckily, there wasn't enough time for her to have paid it any mind. After spitting at his feet, she turned on her heel and stalked toward the hospital, never daring to glance behind her as she cut through the reporters and disappeared behind the revolving door.
This was the last time he'd see Andy Archer.
He'd never see Matt Archer again.
He climbed into his car and backed out, then drove the streets of San Diego until the yellow lines on the road blurred in front of him and he no longer had a sense of direction. He couldn't go into the stadium. That place was tainted with the memory of her. And of Matt. If anything, the place was a tribute to where he'd ruined the two best relationships of his life.
So with nowhere else to go, he headed home and settled in for a very long future of self-loathing.
* * *
Saturday mornings were the worst.
Not so much because of the onslaught of early morning sunshine or the fact that she had no excuse to avoid cleaning her apartment, but mostly because it was the one day she had to be alone. And lately, being alone sucked worse than just about everything else.
Still, Andy rolled from her cocoon of sheets and trudged toward her closet, surveying her welcoming pile of sweats before finally turning toward her stack of dresses. She'd worn them all now. Over and over again, though she couldn't say why.
She knew that the other clothes would be more comfortable, that if she just slid an over-sized T-shirt on, her life could go on like she'd never gotten involved with Logan in the first place. But rather than comforting her, the idea made her sad. Like if she slipped back into that life, she'd lose a part of herself in the process.
A part of him.
She couldn't think about all that right now. She'd spent a good two weeks avoiding the topic and she'd be dammed if she had to curl back up into her bed and dream of Logan Grant. He was gone. Gone for good. She'd lived without him before, she could do it again.
All she had to do was work past the crushing sadness that weighed down her every step. That couldn't be so hard.
Down the hall, her doorbell rang and she tossed the red bandage dress on without a second thought, eager to discover the distraction.
But when she opened the door, she found Logan Grant staring at her.
Kind of.
The magazine cover they'd shot had apparently hit the stands today and Shay stood in her doorframe, holding out the magazine for Andy t
o survey.
"Did you see this yet?" Shay asked and clicked into the foyer on her five-inch heels.
The short answer was no. She'd known it was out. Hell, the magazine had even called and notified her. It was the biggest feat she'd been able to pull for their agency so far, and still she couldn't bring herself to buy the damned thing.