Ex Demands His Things Back And The Only Solution? Take Advice From A Cheating Married Man, Of Course!
Ex Demands His Things Back And The Only Solution? Take Advice From A Cheating Married Man, Of Course!
Tales Of Week 6 Of The Andie Chronicles And Her Breakup
Day 36: Tales Of Quiet Days And Demanding Emails From Exes
Today is a public holiday. For some reason in Australia, most of our public holidays seem to happen in the first few months of the year. When you back that onto Christmas, New Year’s, and general January lethargy, you find the start of the year very unproductive.
Despite this, James decided he didn’t want to work today.
I tried to find out why, but he wouldn’t tell me. I think he has a date. No, wait, I swear he has a date.
He spent all of Saturday’s winery tour messaging someone. Maybe this might be the date where he breaks his dating cone of silence and actually tells me about this guy.
Or I will just ask him. Yeah, I will do that tomorrow.
Waking up on a Monday morning and not having James already at the desk before me felt weird. But I couldn’t ignore the fact I liked it. Quite a lot.
With all the chaos going on in my life, a little silence would help it. Silence. Peace. No dramas. It would be nice and this time could be all mine.
But then I got an email.
A cold, unrelenting email, made stark against the public holiday lack of junk email marketing. I recognised the email address despite thinking I had flagged it as automatic trash.
It was from the offices of “Douglas Gallo”. I remembered these emails, the ones that were actually from his secretary Angela. They used to come to me as a reminder for lunch bookings or flights Douglas had put under his name.
They were formal considering they were technically coming from my boyfriend. But he had his system and I respected it.
Right now, though, it sucked.
I opened the email and read the content.
“Dear Andie, I was wondering if I could organise a time to attend your premise to retrieve my possessions. If you could place them in a bag or a box and keep them safe, I would be sincerely grateful. Kind regards, Douglas.”
I re-read the sign-off again. No, it wasn’t from his assistant. It sounded like it was written by her, though. It was from him.
And he wanted his things back, huh?
Scanning around my home, I couldn’t think of anything I had of his.
At one point he lent me his Mercedes but that was when my car was in the shop. Yet, as I started to wander around I noticed one of his watches on top of my dresser, next to a collection of cufflinks and a tie with a mustard stain on it.
And then there was my Chanel bag, the only designer piece I owned that he gave me. It was actually for his sister but she rejected it, so he regifted it to me.
I scanned the email again and deleted it. It was easier to pretend this request didn’t exist.
Wiser? No. But at this stage of my life, I was ‘easier’ over being wise.
Day 37: Tales Of Married Men Revelations And Hiding Plain Truths
“I thought we promised not to hide our dating lives anymore, remember?”
James rolled his eyes. He remembered our bargain better than any of us, but I don’t think he thought any of us would live up to it. It’s hard to teach an old friendship group new tricks.
“I want to know, too. I want to be part of your life. You are my best friend, yeah?”
James looked at his watch. It was just before midday. “Is it too early for a drink?”
I laughed. It was never too early in my books.
On raceways, I would have white wine whilst applying mascara at 9 am. It’s what you did in Melbourne; we often treated life like the am and pm were interchangeable. Not always, but when the time was right, we used it to our advantage.
“There is champagne and fresh orange juice in the fridge. I juiced it this morning. Mimosa’s?” James smiled and swiftly sauntered over to the kitchen.
“Should I make us a pitcher?”
“Does this volume of alcohol imply you have a juicy story to tell?”
I couldn’t see James’ face from the dining room table come desk, but I could see his shoulders jiggling up and down. Laughter. “It was a doozy,” he said before the sound of the bottle pop echoed through my house.
“I slept with a married man.”
Thankfully James was still putting the cocktail together, otherwise, I would have splattered it all over him in surprise.
“You slept with a married guy?”
I repeated it as if I hadn’t heard him. But it was loud and clear.
Here was the thing; James liked to have sex. Most of the time he hunted for a man purely to have sex with. Pursuing relationships didn’t appeal to him.
It wasn’t that he said never. He wasn’t opposed to relationships, people having them, or ever being in one, but James didn’t feel the need for that companionship. An official partnership didn’t get him off.
GG once said James was staying single because it was cool. It was the problem plaguing the romantics. Every single was turning into a happy single; that had to be someone who loved being alone whilst pretending it was their choice, one hundred percent of the time, to be that way.
GG called bull shit on the whole thing.
James was doing his romantic life oh so casually. Yet, I didn’t think he would lie about this, either. He was usually a man who took what he wanted from life and didn’t overly care about conformity.
How would I know, though?
It wasn’t like he would tell me, right?
But he was telling me about his dating life, so we were making strides.
Day 38: Tales Of Dating Changes And Dodging The Truth
Walking down to the coffee shop at the end of our street, I couldn’t help but notice my best friend had a certain pep in his step. He was a man who had been having sex and a lot of it. But I was still troubled by the married man part.
“Did you know this guy was married?”
I asked James yesterday, during our second pitcher of mimosas. I watched as James stalled to think about what he would say.
I know what his face looks like when he’s lying to me. It’s normally pensive with this slight smile. To lie, he has to fake looking thoughtful.
But when I asked him yesterday, there was no fakery. There was no trying to find the socially acceptable answer. He was trying to search his brain for the truth.
“Yeah…” he said with a pause, “I think I did. I remember him saying it during one of our meetings.” That revelation hit me like a tonne of bricks.
One of our meetings? One of our work meetings?!
“Stop right there. I know this guy?”
“You do.”
James tucked his top lip under itself. And then I saw gaze off into the distance. I assumed he was thinking about the night before. He looked like a man who was shagged, literally. It had been a long time since I had seen him so content, so physically satisfied, so happy.
“He was one of the suppliers we didn’t go with. I assumed because we weren’t working with him, it wouldn’t matter, right?”
He searched my face for approval.
From a business point of view, I didn’t care. As long as he wasn’t having it off with our current supplier, who cares? Not me, that’s for sure.
But still, I couldn’t help but think about how this man in his bed was a married man. “So he’s married to a woman?”
“No. He’s married to a man. You didn’t think I was hunting a straight man, did you?”
After everything that had happened the last few days, weeks, months, I couldn’t be sure of anything. There wasn’t anything off-limits anymore.
I apologised again on our morning coffee for assuming this, but James didn’t care. Instead, he felt extreme guilt for having not let any of the conversations from yesterday be about me.
“So what about you? How was your Monday? What did you get up to?”
I wasn’t going to tell him about my email from Douglas. I wasn’t going to ever tell him.
“It was fine. Boring. Just the way I like it.”
Day 39: Tales Of Demanding Answers And Final Decisions
GG arrived at our weekly meeting an hour early.
James and I were still working through fabric samples and approving colours on our inspiration board when she let herself in.
“Oh hey,” James said to her with great surprise.
I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t expecting this early, either.
“You’re early. Or has daylight savings changed and we haven’t kept up again?” It wouldn’t have been the first time, either.
GG shook her head. “No,” she sighed, putting her handbag down on the couch. “I need to speak to you, Andie. Privately.”
I felt like a student being pulled into the principal’s office. “Privately? Are you ok?”
I assumed it was a female thing, an uncomfortable, not-for-polite conversation because she normally said everything in front of James.
“Well, it’s about something I don’t think you want James to know. Or you would have probably told him by now. And he would have told me and we would have hashed this out days ago. You know?”
I didn’t know. She had me bamboozled. “Tell us what’s going on.”
She plonked herself down on the couch. “I guess you could say I don’t like it when my boyfriend asks me to follow up with my friend on behalf of his brother.”
She was talking about Douglas. And the email. Oh shit.
“What are you talking about?” James asked, still holding a book of patterns.
GG went to open her mouth but I cut her off. “I got an email from Douglas the other day. He wanted to organise a time to collect the things of his that I still had here. I didn’t even know he had left anything behind. Anyway, I didn’t respond to him. I put the email into my spam folder.”
I could see GG waiting to interject. “And he’s sent you another five follow-ups ever since. No wonder you haven’t responded. You probably haven’t seen them.”
Looking at her, she seemed disappointed in me. Probably because she was being dragged into this mess.
“Gees, what’s with the attitude? Can you blame me for not wanting to bring him back into my life? Can you blame me for trying to move on by drawing a line in the sand? Come on, cut me some fucking slack. I was only trying to protect myself.”
James put down the samples, moved towards me, and held me tight. I needed that hug, more than I could say.
Day 40: Tales Of Resolutions And Taking Relationship Control
When I woke up this morning, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t faced another intervention with my friends regarding my love life.
Instead, I woke up feeling a little empowered, a little less lost, and a little depressed about my shit show of a breakup.
After a short and direct conversation with my friends, they all agreed to leave the topic of returning Douglas’ things to me.
It wasn’t for their input.
It didn’t need some group discussion or handling in some way.
They all agreed to leave it to me to sort it the way I felt right.
When Sophia arrived, she agreed. She also added some of her beautiful wisdom to the situation.
“There is no right way to move on from a breakup.”
It was simple. It was true. It was cliched, sure. But sometimes you can’t move past those pearls of wisdom, nor neglect using them when someone desperately needs to hear them.
I was one of those thirsty people, desperate to hear that my messed up way of living still meant I was doing ok.
Yet, I was facing an all-new dilemma.
I had spent the week trying to hide what was happening. But I had to be real; of course, I needed to return his things to him. I couldn’t keep them.
And now I know they were here, littering my small home, I needed them gone from my life. I couldn’t have these reminders springing up at the worst possible moment.
There was this part of me that didn’t want to be that person; the one who refused to be a grown-up and deal with the hard things in life.
It was just things. It was just an exchange of possessions.
Things could be worse, right?!
No one died. No one had been diagnosed with cancer. There wasn’t a life hanging in the balance.
A little perspective, please.
I thought about opening the emails and seeing what else Douglas had sent me. The ones GG said he had sent. But no. They would all say the same thing; give me back my things.
And that’s would I would do.
There was an easy way of doing this, too. I could give them to GG, who could deliver them to Douglas at their next family dinner. Yet, I didn’t want her as a middleman. Or Taylor, her boyfriend, and Douglas’ brother either. Nope.
The best way would be to drop off his things at his office. Leave them with Angela, his assistant. She could do the awkward part for me.
And I knew just when to do it, too.
Day 41: Tales Of City Life And Ex-Boyfriend’s Stomping Grounds
I loved Melbourne’s CBD on the weekends.
The hustle is gone, all that’s left is the hum of a few tourists narrow-mindedly thinking the hub of culture and fascination exists when the city workers are gone.
Whilst Melbourne still existed, the buildings physically didn’t go anywhere, the proud residents didn’t think it a place where they wanted to be on their days off.
But I loved it.
You could see the city for what it was. You could see the opportunity, the possibilities little business owners like me hoped there would be.
And you could see the diehards, the people who didn’t quit just because the clock told them to.
I was on my way to find one of those people, someone who didn’t get enough credit. Angela.
I spoke to the security guard at the bottom of Douglas’s building. He knew my face. I wondered if he was trying to remember a new girlfriend’s face right now. And trying to forget mine in the process, too.
He called the office, confirmed there was someone at the desk, and let me up in the lift. Of course, Douglas’s office was on the top floor. Always go for the best views, he preached. Always live like you’re already the best at what you do. Douglas certainly did that.
I didn’t feel any nerves ascending in the lift. It would be a quick drop at the front desk and run. I would exchange a few brief words with Angela, his very aging but kind secretary.
Then I could go, leave all this mess behind, and no one would be any the wiser. In and out, like a ninja.
The lift doors opened to an empty desk. Shit, I thought. Where is she?
I looked around to see if she was bending down behind the desk, tinkering with the ever-unreliable printer. Nope. I peered around the corner to see if she was in the nearby bathroom. Nope.
Where was she?
“Hello?,” I called out. I heard some footsteps coming from behind. There she was, in the copy room, I thought.
But no, mistaken again.
“So you’ve brought me back my things, I see?”
I stared at the beautifully suited man, looking at him up and down. He didn’t look any different from the last time I saw him.
I know I did; I was frail, tired, and sunken-eyed. I looked like shit. He looked incredible.
“Yeah, I have. Here.” I thrust the bag at him.
Douglas clutched me by the elbow. “Can we talk for a second?”
Day 42: Tales Of Meeting Married Men And Quests For Dating Resurrection
There was a chance James wasn’t home, but I took the risk.
And I loaded myself up with freshly baked muffins, his favourite chocolate, a bottle of gin, and a selection of cheeses the woman at the corner store suggested to me.
It was my favourite little place, thankfully only a short stroll between James’ and my place. It was that sort of place where you had to shop with your own wicker basket. And you could never leave without their freshly cut flowers that lined the front windows.
I knocked on the door.
“Oh hey,” he answered, pulling on a t-shirt over his board shorts. “I was just about to head out for a swim.”
He kept his hand on the door, refusing me entrance with his body.
“Swim? You? Since when do you swim?”
He rolled his eyes at me. “Fine, you caught me. I’m taking my date up to use the spa on the rooftop. Happy now?”
I looked past him into the rest of the apartment.
“Does that mean the married man is here?”
James went to reply before I pushed past him. There was little use in him pretending with me. And there wasn’t much he could do to stop my persistence.
Plus, I really had to speak to James. Maybe this other guy could offer some advice, too.
Walking in, I found the man seated on his corner chair, almost hiding from the view of the front door.
“Hello, I’m Andie.”
I extended my hand. “James hasn’t told me your name. But I know you’re married and you’ve given him a smile he can’t wipe for the life of him.”
The man stood and hugged me. “I love her already”, he said to James over my shoulder.
“And I’m not shocked he didn’t tell you. My name is Christopher. Not Chris, can’t stand it. Always Christopher.”
I loved him already, too.
“Christopher, you’re a man of the world. What would you do if you were returning your ex the things he left behind at your place to his office only to discover his trusty secretary wasn’t at the front desk? And you had to give him his things directly to him, instead? And then he wants to speak to you about why it took you so long to return his things and whether you’re doing ok?”
I took a breath but then regained my composure.
“And then he wanted to see how your business was doing, a little too much for someone who didn’t care much about it whilst you were together?”
By the time I had finished asking, James had come to join the conversation. “Babe, are you serious?”
I nodded. “I need you both to tell me what to do.”
You’re reading a recap of The Andie Chronicles, the 2023 romance-fiction series from the 1 Lovelock Drive (1LD) universe.
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