48 - Return of the Runaway Bride

It had been a stressful week for Marty. And not just concerning the whole Rory blowout from Sunday morning either. Rob had spent the majority of the week not-so-subtly reminding his protege of the deadline on head office's offer, his boss stating that he needed an answer by next Wednesday or said offer may be rescinded. Not wanting to disappoint his mentor and friend Marty promised that he'd have a definite answer once he got back from Hartford, which seemed to placate Rob for the time being. Nevermind the fact that Marty was still uncertain if he'd even be going to the damn wedding anymore since Rory set down her ultimatum before leaving. And nevermind the fact Marty had almost no luck in getting a hold of Andy over the last few days, his former fiance somehow always being unavailable whenever Marty called the number Lexie had given him several weeks ago.

Should've just chucked that number in the trash when I first had the chance, he scowled, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Should've checked that damned drawer and thrown that crap out as well. Stupid.

"What the hell was she doing digging through my kitchen drawers any way?" he wondered aloud, this not being the first time that question had come to mind. Marty had gone back and forth on being angry with himself and in turn Rory. She had violated his personal space. Sure, it was (most likely) by accident, but still...

You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep going in circles like this, man, he chided himself, his car now pulled up the curb outside the townhouse. "Gotta get my shit together," the troubled architect muttered under his breath. When he finally entered his home, Marty decided to try getting a hold of Andy again before heading upstairs to pack his bags. In case he did decide to go to the wedding after all.

"Hello, Marianne," he greeted into the receiver a moment later, the cordless pressed against his ear. "It's me, Martin, again."

"Ah know full well who this is," the unpleasant woman almost sneered, not bothering to hide her distain for him. Marianne never did approve of him. She considered Marty too common, too much of a Yank for someone belonging to one of the oldest and prestigious families in Charlotte, North Carolina. "And Ah would appreciate it if you'd stop phoning here. Good day, Martin."

"A pleasure as always, Marianne," he deadpanned, their conversation ended almost as quickly as it had begun. "I don't think that woman will ever stop hating me."

Now what am I supposed to do? Marty wondered while climbing the stairs to his bedroom, completely at a loss of what to do next. He could try getting a hold of Lexie again but Marty wasn't too fond of that idea. The former band manager had proven to be even more difficult to get in contact with than Andy. He was even less fond of attempting to speak with Marianne again. And the former members of the Ragged Dolls refused to take his calls, all three of them blaming him for the breakup of their band. Marty was quickly running out of contacts, time, and patience.

What am I supposed to tell Rory the next time I see her? Marty mused with a scowl, feeling beyond frustrated with the entire situation. And how am I supposed to get closure with Andy when I can't even find her?

Not even a second after finishing that thought and pushing open the bedroom door did his gaze fall upon an all too familiar figure seated on the mattress. Emerald eyes met hazel, long blonde tresses framing the flawless porcelain skin of her face. The face of the woman who Marty had intended to spend the rest of his life with only a few short months ago.

"Hi," she greeted with an uncertain smile. The same smile that the blonde had given him when they first met in that laundry room across town. The same smile that Marty had fallen in love with in what seemed like an entirely different life time now. Where that smile had once made his heart race though, it only served to remind Marty on how badly she had hurt him.

"Hi?" Marty cried in disbelief. "I haven't seen or heard from you since the day before our wedding was supposed to happen, three months of absolutely no communication and that's the best you can do? Really, Andy? Really?"

"I can see you're still a little pissed about that," she sighed, a delicate hand sweeping back her unruly hair as it tried to get in her eyes. "Can't say I don't blame yah either. I'd be too if I were in your shoes."

"How generous of you for understanding," he said, rolling his eyes. "What are you doing here? And how did you even get inside?"

"Spare key under the mat," Andy reminded him, standing up from the bed. "As to why I'm here? You called me, remember? I figured it'd be best if we talked in person. Sorry it took me so long to get here. My aunt was being a bitch and tried to hide the fact you called. If she hadn't forgotten to clear the memory on the call display two days ago, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Damn, I should've known she'd do something like that," he sighed, not feeling particular bright for underestimating Marianne's disapproval of him.

"Yeah, you probably should've," she grinned a little, taking a cautious step towards Marty. "You look good."

He raised a hand up. "Don't."

"I missed you," the blonde stated, ignoring his warning.

"Cut it out," he growled.

Andy was now standing in front of him, her hand on his chest. "Did you miss me?"

"I'd be lying if I said no," admitted the architect. He grasped her wrist lightly and gently removed her hand from where the blonde had lain it on his chest. "But after the first month or so, I got over it."

"No doubt, thanks to Rory and those giant moon eyes of hers," the blonde scoffed, her jealousy obvious. "My god, she didn't waste any time on scooping you up, did she?"

"Leave Rory out of this," Marty commanded.

"Can't say I'm all that surprised though," Andy stated, once again ignoring his warning. "I mean, you did mention liking her back in Yale. Not to mention all those longing looks she's been sending your way since comin' to Chicago."

"You're delusional," he scoffed, though it sounded weak to his ears.

"Where is the little lady any way? You guys get in a tiff?"

"I don't have time for this," Marty said, not liking how dead on her assumption was. "I have packing to do."

"Pack when I'm gone," the musician said, stepping between him and his dresser. "You called me, remember? Now talk."

"I seriously don't have the time, Andrea," he insisted.

"Make the time, Martin," she ordered. "I did not cross half the fuckin' country just to be dismissed like a damn servant! Now talk!"

"You can't tell me what to do anymore," he snapped. "You gave up that right when you left me standing at the damn altar!"

"Do you think I don't know that?" Andy cried, her viridian eyes pooling with tears. "Do you think I don't regret that every day? Do you?"

"Then why did you do it, Ands? Why?"

"Because I got scared, okay?" she sobbed. "I was standing there, looking at mahself in that gorgeous dress and then it hit me! I was getting married! And that's forever! And I started freaking out!" Andy closed her eyes, hands raised up to her mouth as she began to breath in ragged bursts like she was about to hyperventilate. When the blonde finally composed herself enough though, she dropped her hands to her side again. "I know I fucked up. Fucked up big time, but..."

"Please don't say what I think you're about to say," he begged.

"But it's not too late for us," she finished, grasping his hand. "We can make this work again, Martin! Please, just give us another chance!"

"You have a lot of gall to ask that of me," Marty rasped, disengaging himself from his former fiance. "Especially when you know that I'm seeing Rory now."

"You do realize she's just going to end up breaking your heart," Andy stated.

"Kind of like how you did?"

The musician flinched like she'd been slapped. "Yup. I walked right into that one."

"Yeah, you really did," he agreed without humor. It was an undetermined amount of time later that Marty spoke again, the pair of them having just stood there in silence in the meanwhile. "Let's say I do this. How do I know if I can still trust you? How do I know you won't run away again?"

Andy slowly closed the distance between them, then reached up to caress his face. "Because I'm ready now, I'm not afraid of the future anymore. I no longer feel like the walls are closing in 'round me."

"That's all well and good for you," he whispered, his hands gently grasping her wrists. "But you're putting me in a tight spot by doing this."

"I know I am, but I have to make mah case or risk losing the best guy I've ever been with," she said. The tall blonde let out a soft sigh before leaning in for a delicate kiss, their lips barely touching at all. When she pulled away to stare up at his face in earnest, Andy smiled a watery smile. "Whatever you decide to do though, make sure you follow your heart. Just know that wherever it leads, I'll always love you." She turned to leave.

"What if my heart tells me to get on that plane to Hartford? To Rory?" he asked, causing her to pause mid-step.

"Well, that's just a chance I'm going to have to take, isn't it?" she said. "I'll be at the Ramada for the next few days if you need to find me," the slim blonde informed him. "I'll let myself out." Andy glanced over her shoulder at him. "Goodbye, Marty."

"Goodbye, Andy," he whispered to the now vacant space, the sound of the front door opening and shutting the only indication that Andrea Marie Walker had even been there. He glanced over where his luggage was sitting, then back to the empty doorway. What the hell am I supposed to do now?