“Home, sweet home,” Andrew muttered.

“You ready?” We stood in the hallway outside the front door. Andrew had teased he had a surprise waiting for me when we got back home. As I was not a fan of surprises, I begged to know what he had up his sleeve. Andrew wouldn’t budge for anything. Sighing, my eyelids fluttered closed.

“Good girl,” he praised. “No peeking, you hear?”

His chest pressed against my back as he fit his hands over my eyes. We awkwardly marched into the apartment that smelled like roasted coffee beans.

“Did you get me a French press?” I guessed.

“Nope.”

We halted. My stomach fluttered with apprehension. “Did you get me a pony?”

“Where the hell would I put a pony?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Your art studio?”

“Yeah like I would put a pony in my art studio. That’s an awesome idea.” Andrew’s tone dripped in sarcasm.

He grabbed my shoulders and positioned me to the right. Clapping his hands together, the sound echoed off the walls.

“Open,” Andrew said with a flourish.

Fluorescent pink assaulted my eyeballs and I blinked, unsure why it looked like Barbie had thrown up all over the walls. Until it hit me. Andrew had painted the hallway the obnoxious color he’d brought to Mallory’s house.

“This is…” I trailed off, lost for words.

“Awful, right?” He bounced on the balls of his feet and laughed. “I know. The color in the store was labeled as bubble gum pink but I had no idea how accurate that description was until now. Still, the triptych doesn’t look bad against it.”

The painting of my soul somehow balanced out the vividness of the backdrop. I tangled my arm around his waist, touched how above and beyond Andrew went for me.

“I love that you did this for me but I don’t need a reminder anymore that happiness is out there for me because I have you. You are my reminder.”

Andrew gazed down upon me, lifted my chin with his finger, and pressed his lips against mine. I slid my hands underneath his shirt, feeling the hard apex of his muscles. Lust shot straight between my legs.

“There is a reason that doors were invented. I suggest you guys use them when you are about jump each other’s bones.”

Andrew and I reluctantly broke apart. Matthew stood in the doorway in his usual uniform of ripped jeans and stained t-shirt. His hair was styled as if he’d gotten up that morning with the intention of trying, but gave up.

“You should quit your job as computer programmer and became an official cock blocker,” Andrew said to his best friend.

“Ha! You are hilarious, but not really.” Casting a glance at the pink wall, he squinted. “That’s interesting. Are you going for a certain theme or….”

I spoke. “Andrew’s apartment was a man den so I injected a dose of girliness.”

“Did you ever,” Matthew muttered.

“Is there a reason you stopped by?” Andrew asked, pointedly.

“Yeah, there is. I need to talk to you.”

“Ok, then talk.”

Matthew met my eyes then jerked his head toward the hallway. “Outside.”

Andrew kissed the top of my head. “I’ll be back.”

Burning with curiosity, I watched as they walked as far out of hearing range as possible. Since the hallway was the size of my thumb, I still could perceive snippets of their conversation. I inched closer but Matthew caught me eaves dropping and steered Andrew into his apartment. The door slammed shut. Reason number one why I hadn’t become a spy. My feet were as heavy as cement blocks. Minutes later, Andrew returned alone. His carefree expression was gone and replaced by undeniable tension. Whatever Matthew had divulged had thrown him through a loop.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

Andrew didn’t answer as he brushed past me. Irritation nipped at my nerves from being ignored. I thought we were past this point in our relationship.

“Hey!” My voice called to his retreating back.

He glanced over his shoulder and the haze of distraction lifted from his eyes. “Sorry. Did you say something?”

“Yeah, I asked what was wrong.”

“Oh nothing.” A beat passed. “Nothing is wrong. Matthew wanted me to a draw a banner for his son’s surprise sixth birthday party this coming weekend.”

Stung he was keeping something from me, I pressed further. “Really? Because if that was the case then why did Matthew have to drag you away?”

“Didn’t you hear the word surprise in that sentence?”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I’m friends with any of Matthew’s or his wife’s friends. Why would it matter if I knew or not?”

Andrew exhaled an exasperated breath. “I don’t know, Haven. I’ll be in my art studio.”

Fumes steamed from my ears. How dare he decide to end the conversation when it clearly wasn’t over yet?

Andrew stomped up the spiral staircase.

With each step, I felt the chasm between us grow wider. The trust I distilled in him was as fragile as glass. I hoped this was a minor incident and whatever was bothering Andrew would be revealed. Otherwise, the glass would shatter along with our relationship.

Around three in the morning, Andrew finally crawled into bed. The smell of oil-based paint clung to his skin, which had a chemical undertone. His rigid frame was a dead giveaway whatever plagued him hadn’t been resolved. I waited for him to cuddle up next to me like he normally did. Tension coated the silence. The rhythmic sound of his breathing grew slower.

Before he could succumb to sleep, I rolled on to my side and faced him. “Andrew?”

He was staring at the beams of light dancing on the ceiling. As he turned his head, my breath caught. Behind his eyes, a war raged. For a moment, I rethought my decision about figuring out the truth. However, I wanted to help and I wanted him to let me help.

“Hm?” he murmured.

“As soon as we became a couple, we became a team so whatever problems or worries you have are mine as well,” I said.

“I know, babe. Come here.” He opened his arms and I rested my head against his chest. “I feel like I’m always apologizing for being an ass,” he said.

“Not all the time.”

“A majority of the time. Look, you aren’t the only one who has issues with letting people help them. I’m not sure if it’s a pride thing for you but it is for me.”

I snorted. “You and ninety-nine percent of the male population.”

“Smart ass.” I could hear a smile in his voice as he lazily stroked my hair. “Would you understand if I needed to process my feelings and thoughts before opening up?”

“Of course, just don’t act emotionally distant and cut off when doing so.”

“Understood.”

Our relationship back on stable ground, I snuggled into his side. Monica’s grandma had taught me communication was the key to forming a lasting partnership. Otherwise, lamps would have been thrown and insults exchanged. Sending a silent thanks to the heavens, my heart rate matched Andrew’s as we drifted off.

I was dreaming of a sandwich chasing a banana when a loud knock entered my conscious. Groggily, my eyes peeled open. Dusty light filtered in through the blinds, scattering across the floor. Andrew’s snores shook the mattress. The numbers 7:00 a.m. glowed from the alarm clock on the nightstand, a mere four hours of sleep. I groaned and threw my pillow over my head. Whoever was at the front door though was persistent. Another knock sounded, then another until it became one long continuous drone. Elbowing Andrew, he was dead to the world. Due to my run-ins with drug dealers and the alike, I didn’t feel safe answering it myself. Smacking Andrew on the chest, his snores halted as he bolted upright in bed.

He looked around as if zombies were on the attack. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”