The Last Days of Mr Andrew
The conversation felt complete, a closure he had not expected.
“Schedule whatever you need to schedule,” he instructed curtly, reaching for his jacket. “Send the details to my office.”
“Andrew..,.”
“I have meetings this afternoon,” he announced, slipping on his jacket, smoothing it down as if that could reinforce the semblance of control.
Ethan’s brows drew together slightly. “You’re not hearing me.”
Andrew leaned against the doorframe. “I hear you just fine.”
“Andrew, you’re dying.”
Andrew paused, just a fraction of a second longer. Then he picked up his phone from the desk, unwilling to acknowledge the weight of those words.
Bab Populer