Being with Sam was everything she’d imagined and more. And he still didn’t want her the way she needed him to.
So now she knew.
And now it was time to move on with her life, no matter what it took.
“Ava, damn it, talk to me,” he growled, completely oblivious to the looks they’d started to catch from those around them. “What’s going on with you?”
She smiled, the gnawing tension that had been building within her since that first kiss suddenly gone.
“I’m going back to San Diego.”
Chapter 28
The words landed like lead in his gut, turned over and condensed before firing back out like a cannon blast. “San Diego? You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
Ava winced and he felt like shit for the satisfaction it gave him. But damn it, San Diego? There was no way the timing was a coincidence. She’d passed the last three times they asked her to go, but now, after she called it quits on the bedroom antics and things got just the slightest bit tense, suddenly she can’t refuse a trip out to the office that kept her for three fucking months the first time she went?
“How long?” he asked, knowing any answer he got was going to be bullshit. Every time she’d gone, her stay ended up being at least twice what she’d agreed to. Of course this time, maybe that’s what she was banking on.
Ava glanced around and then nodded toward an empty table in the back. And yeah, if he actually gave a shit about the crowd, getting away from it would have been a priority. He didn’t. But since Ava did, they were going to have to do better than a quiet table two feet off from the rest of the guests for what he had to say.
Taking her hand, he led her out past the bar to the terrace.
Too many people, so he pulled her back the other way.
“Sam, stop dragging me around like some errant kid,” Ava hissed behind him, giving his arm a yank he resisted only enough so she wouldn’t fall back on her ass when he let go.
“Fine. The lounge, then.” He stood aside, letting her lead until they reached the hallway where the men’s and ladies’ rooms branched off. Planting his hand at the small of her back, he propelled her farther toward the unmarked door straight ahead.
“Sam!” Ava ground to a halt, stomping one silver-strapped sandal.
Couldn’t have felt good. Shouldn’t have looked so sexy, but what was he going to do about it?
He tried the knob, discovering a utility closet on the other side. Perfect.
Holding the door like the gentleman he was, he shoved her inside.
“A closet, Sam?” she demanded, those big brown eyes boring into him from close range. “At Maggie and Tyler’s wedding? We should have stayed and had it out in the middle of the dance floor. It would have been less conspicuous than this!”
Only if they got caught.
Which when he considered the proximity of the closet to the lounges themselves, factoring in the increasing frequency with which women tended to visit them as the night wore on—well, shit. He’d been trying.
“Forget about all that. We’re talking about San Diego.”
Yeah, and didn’t that just douse the fight in her eyes.
“You’re making a bigger deal about it than it needs to be.”
The hell he was.
“You’re leaving, Ava. Because of what happened with us. You’re leaving when we agreed things wouldn’t change.”
“I know what we agreed to, Sam,” she snapped. “And believe me, I tried to keep my end of the bargain. But things started changing the minute we got together and you’re a liar if you tell me you didn’t recognize it. It was supposed to be one kiss. Then one night. Then a few days maybe. But instead of staying in the neat little box we picked out for it, this thing between us turned fluid and it got bigger than I was prepared to handle, and while I still say everything is going to be fine with us and we’ll be back to normal in no time at all, I’ve realized normal is going to come a lot quicker if we’ve got more than a few hours between you naked in my bed and us being ‘just friends’ again.”
She sucked a deep breath, having apparently burned through everything in her lungs on that one.
Jesus.
He reached for her, cupping her cheek and being careful not to get his fingers into her hair.
“Ava, I know we took it further than we’d agreed to,” he said, looking into her eyes and seeing the vulnerability behind her defenses. “And I know it was me pushing. I’m sorry. But I don’t understand why you have to leave. Why we couldn’t just do what we always do and get through this together.”
She closed her eyes, shaking her head as she tried to pull back from him. Only there wasn’t room and he didn’t want to let her get away. Not when they had something this big between them.
His hand slid around the back of her neck, his thumb brushing the smooth line of her jaw. “You know I’m not over it yet either. I nearly blew a gasket watching you and Mitch today, seeing him make you laugh. His hand on your arm. Leaning in like you two had some kind of private joke between you. It was everything I could do not to go over and—”
“Put your hands on me like we were together?” she asked softly, looking up at him again. “Pull me into a dance that didn’t look quite so friendly as it should have been?”
He swallowed, getting caught up in the eye contact. In the way he was touching her and how close they were standing while she called him out on the bullshit move he hadn’t been able to resist.
“Yeah, not to do more than that.”
And then he was thinking about what exactly more than that might mean. Which only proved his point.
He hadn’t made the full return to friendship yet either. But he wasn’t running away because of it. He wasn’t trying to leave her behind or let her go. “Ava, we can get through this together. Hell, we can be our own two-person recovery program. I’ll be your sponsor. You be mine. We introduce ourselves each day and reaffirm our commitment to a friendly, sex-free future together.”
He actually thought that was pretty good. Only Ava was blinking up at him, the color coming higher in her cheeks as her lips parted on his name.
And that’s when he realized he was stroking that tender stretch of her neck and drawing her in closer with his hand at her hip.
Fuck.
“Okay, and when we backslide, we promise not to judge too harshly because we’re only human and friends forgive friends for stupid shit. Right?”
“Sam.”
He closed his eyes, a cold pit opening up inside him. “You’re going.”
“I’m going. It’ll be better this way. I just need to get you and me straight in my head again and it’ll be easier with a few thousand miles between us. They need the help in the office, so I’ll keep busy, and then when I come back it’ll be like we hit the reset on our relationship. You’ll be back to doing what you do. And I’ll be back to doing…well, to not doing you.”
Sam let out a gruff laugh, but he didn’t feel it. How could he argue with that?
—
It hadn’t taken Ava more than a single text to the San Diego office and within an hour she’d gotten word they were booking her travel for Tuesday. It was the peace of mind she’d needed to relax into the party and enjoy the celebration she was sharing with her newly married friends.
Sam keeping a minimum two feet between them at all times and working overboard to keep the conversation light and easy helped too.
She’d danced with Tony and Ford and Tyler’s other brother, Ryan, who spent most of the song watching Jocelyn circulating through the crowd.
When Maggie had done her due diligence with all the relatives and family friends, she traded her gorgeous beaded heels for flip-flops and, snagging a bottle of champagne, pulled Ava with her into the smaller connecting room where all the gifts had been stored. There was a couch and another, smaller terrace.
If only she’d remembered the room when Sam was dragging her off.
Maggie dropped into her corner of the cou
ch and, head back, let out an exhausted, delighted sigh.
Maggie couldn’t stop smiling and despite everything that was happening with Sam, seeing one of her best friends so happy, neither could Ava.
“You did it!” Claiming the opposite corner for herself, Ava slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her. “You made it through the big wedding. The one you never thought you’d survive.”
Maggie was nodding, her eyes bright with the joyful tears that had been on hand since the day began. “I did. I’m a married woman. With the white dress and the photos and the drunk relatives to prove it,” she laughed.
Ava knew she was being silly, but this day had been no small hurdle for Maggie and she was proud of her friend for being able to overcome her fears. Enjoy the day and live out the dream she’d given up years before.
And Tyler was the reason. He’d known how she felt. Understood her fears, and he’d helped her face them. Because he wanted all of her dreams to come true.
The door to their quiet room opened, and music and laughter spilled in with Tyler, Ford, and Sam.
“Told you I’d find her in here. This room was a major selling factor when we were checking the place out six months ago.”
Sam met Ava’s eyes, offering what might have been an apologetic look. Or maybe not.
Then he was cutting around her brother toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the darkening sky.
There were moments when it physically hurt her heart to look at him. When—
“Ava tell you about San Diego?” he asked, turning around to grin at Maggie, whose mouth had just dropped open. “She’s leaving Tuesday.”
—When the urge to stab him with her high heel was all but impossible to resist.
“San Diego?” Maggie screeched, and it was on.
Chapter 29
Sam wasn’t big on goodbyes. He’d had enough of them implode in his face that these days he tended to avoid the teary-eyed, heartfelt exchanges whenever he could. Sometimes there was no way to avoid them, but today, when Ava’s departure coincided with the meeting he had on the books, he recognized his opportunity and didn’t try to back out.
They’d said what they needed to say already. He knew why she was leaving, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change it.
So he called her before his meeting and asked her if there was anything she needed and teased her about the things she usually forgot—basically trying to play it off like there wasn’t anything bothering him. Like it was any other day. Like nothing was wrong between them and the only woman he truly needed in his life wasn’t about to fly two thousand miles away to make things right.
From Ava’s end, she played her part, laughing at his jokes and making a few of her own. But the undercurrent of tension was there in all the things they didn’t say. So he’d kept the call quick, using work as an excuse even though they both knew he could have stayed on the line.
And now she was gone.
Ford had told him they’d be leaving about three, and Sam waited at least that long before putting Dwayne in charge for the rest of the afternoon and clearing out. With his meeting done, there was nothing that needed his immediate attention, and Sam knew himself well enough to recognize he wasn’t going to be an asset to anyone in those last few hours of the day. Even though he hadn’t seen her off, his mind had been on Ava. And now he was by himself, alone in his apartment.
No distractions. No temptations.
Just Sam and all the mistakes he wouldn’t take back if he could.
In the kitchen, he stopped at the fridge for a beer and then, seeing his empty shelves, fired off a text to Ava, knowing she wouldn’t have boarded yet.
Sam:…What needs to go first in the fridge?
This was totally the kind of thing Ava would forget, and then suffer dearly for when she skipped back into her apartment two weeks from now.
Beer in hand, he headed for the front of the apartment, figuring he’d check out what he’d need to burn through or if there was anything he ought to freeze. Hell, maybe he’d just cook upstairs for the next couple of weeks. It had been weird, eating in his own place this last week, and if they were getting back to normal, that was it.
He was halfway out his door when Ava pinged him back.
Ava:…Unloaded everything on Ford. Grab whatever you need from the kitchen tho.
Sam stopped dead, unable to believe his eyes.
It wasn’t enough to put two thousand miles between them; she didn’t want him in her apartment while she was gone?
Something cold and hard took root in his chest and for a minute all he could do was stand there.
Jesus. All he wanted was to be in a space that felt like her and she—
Shaking himself out of it, he stuffed the phone into his pocket and turned around. Walked back into his place and closed the door behind him. He was being a pussy.
Even Ava, who almost never swore, would say so.
Things were weird between them, obviously, since that’s why she left. And chances were she’d been uncomfortable asking him about stuff she didn’t want to take for granted, and figured it was just easier to go through Ford since he’d actually bothered to show up to say goodbye in person.
Not a big deal. No reason to make it one.
He walked back to the kitchen and dumped his beer down the drain, running down the list of possible distractions in his head as he went. Maggie and Tyler were in Cozumel for the week. Ford was probably stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic.
There were women he could call. And Ava had even suggested they get back to dating before she came home, as part of the whole reset thing. But Sam wasn’t interested. Not yet.
Tony was probably around, but tonight Sam didn’t think he could deal with his cousin’s level of crass and crude.
There were other guys to call, guys he’d known for years, but for whatever reason only one name came to mind.
Dialing, he turned down the walk. “Hey Mitch, Tyler mentioned you were staying a few more days in Chicago. How ’bout a beer?”
—
Ava dropped her suitcase by the door, her eyes drifting over the details of the space she’d be sleeping in for the next two weeks. Maybe four. Not more than six. Eight tops.
And sighed.
It was clean and neat. An efficient use of space and more than enough to suit her needs for the few hours a week she’d actually spend awake in it, and that was all that mattered.
She didn’t need a cushy couch because she wasn’t going to have half a dozen people in her place. She’d come to San Diego to be alone.
To get her head straight. To put her life back in order. And to move on from the one fantasy it was time to accept—really accept—was never going to come true. So why was that single wingback chair making her throat tight and her chest hurt?
She ought to unpack. Organize the few belongings she’d brought with her. When she was here, she had to be as efficient and minimalist as her space—a skill she’d perfected through her last few trips.
Of course once she got back to her jam-packed apartment at home all those minimalist skills went straight out the window and she practically rolled around in her knickknacks, souvenirs, overstuffed shelves, and Sam stuff. All that clutter and too much were what made her home her home. And it only took a minute back in the heart of it for all her organized non-hoarding intentions to go right out the window.
Which, now that she thought about it, didn’t really bode well for her plan to get over Sam and go home a changed woman. A stronger woman, one who was ready to have the kind of life Sam couldn’t offer her.
Okay, so she wasn’t going to think about that now.
Kicking off her shoes, she rubbed her toes against the carpet and then forced herself to make the six-step journey to a bed Sam had never shared with her. She lay down flat on her back with her hands clutched over her chest and tried not to think about all the things she knew better than to want at home. About snuggly puppies or handsome idiots.<
br />
One little cry. Just for a few minutes, and then she’d start with the whole getting-her-life-back-together business.
—
Sam probably should have stopped with the last beer. Only they were cold and wet and delicious, and Mitch had ordered the round and Sam hadn’t wanted the guy to think he was a lightweight.
And that kind of thinking should probably have been a warning he’d hit his no-regrets limit the bottle before, but then the damage was done, wasn’t it? And so he’d had another. Because if he didn’t, he was going to have to go back and face the quiet of an apartment he’d never really felt at home in.
“So I don’t want this to sound bad or anything,” Mitch said, leaning a little too heavily over the bar. “But for this epic ladies’ man, you’re pretty fucking disappointing.”
Sam raised a brow at him, leaning back on his stool until he remembered there wasn’t a back on it. “Sorry, man, were you part of the fan club or something? Didn’t mean to let you down.”
Ava would have gotten a kick out of that one. He picked up his phone to text her and then for about the twentieth time that night put it back down on the bar.
“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch said, waving him off before he pulled himself up straight and looked over the bar. “I’m serious, man, where’d you get this reputation? Because from where I’m sitting, you haven’t looked at a woman since I rolled into town. Or at least not any woman other than Ava.”
Mitch nodded when Sam’s head snapped around. And there was more than speculation in the guy’s eyes. He knew.
But so long as Sam didn’t confirm it, then anyone Mitch happened to mention it to would just think Mitch didn’t know what the rest of them did. “You got it wrong, man—Ava and I are just friends. We’ve known each other since—”
“Since you were in diapers. Right, I got that.”
Sam shifted. “Not quite diapers.”
“And not just friends either.”
All he had to do was just keep denying it. But instead he looked the guy in the eyes. “It’s over now. It probably wasn’t whatever you were thinking, either, but it’s done. And honestly, man, it’s not something we want getting out. Not even to your brother. Actually, especially not to your brother because he’d tell Maggie, and you get what I’m saying.”
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