After what feels like an eternity, the clock finally displays that it is 10 o'clock. My palms are clammy as I wait for Lizzie to announce Andrew's arrival. Everything seems to move so slowly, so loudly. The knock on the door, though expected, still makes me jump. 

"Your ten o'clock is here Mrs Smith" 

Lizzie's voice is small and uncertain through the door. It's clear she feels uncomfortable following my reaction to her interruption the other day. I make a mental note to apologise later today. Before I can open my mouth to respond, the door swings open and Andrew's form dominates the space in front of me. He strides over in three steps and sits on the edge of my desk, grinning. Oh how I love that grin. Get it together Amelia, you have a job to do! I shake my head ever so slightly and lean against my filing cabinet. The coolness burns into me, reminding me of the other day. Stirring feelings in my stomach that I can't be experiencing right now. 

Andrew seems to sense the distance I'm placing between us, to sense something bad is about to happen. His brow furrows. With arms folded across his chest he pulls back slightly, head tilted, staring at me. I can't meet his gaze. I feel choked. The speech I had rehearsed clawing at my throat, refusing to leave my lips. My body reacts to his presence, betraying me. I gulp air, resembling a goldfish no doubt. I can feel the tears prick, threatening to expose me. 

I close my eyes, taking deep breaths trying to compose myself. To just do this. I don't need to open my eyes to know Andrew is standing in front of me now. I can smell his aftershave and feel the heat radiating from him. His hand cups my chin, bringing my gaze to him. Concern has overtaken his features, his brown eyes showing hurt and confusion. I hiccup. I hadn't even noticed the tears that had escaped. 

"Amelia, baby, what's wrong?" 

I sob uncontrollably  now. What is it about emotions that makes a simple question like what's wrong open the floodgates. He cradles me as I become hysterical. I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I love him more than I care to admit. Need him. He's my safety net. The person I wish I had married instead of Michael. Andrew says nothing. He simply strokes my hair and holds me until I, after what feels like years but has realistically only been minutes, calm enough to talk.

I lift my gaze to him. But before I can utter a single word, anger flashes through his eyes. A fire I have seen before. A fire that engulfed me and left me broken in bed. I flinch away from him, scared of him for the first time. This seems to anger him more. He holds me at arms length, his face becoming red. 

"What the fuck is that on your face?"

I can feel my eyes widen as realisation hits. My tears have ruined my make up. My mask has slipped.