"Yeah, it was mind blowing, okay? But that's just us, how it is, and...you know. He said it was mistake so that's what it was. One night of regret." She blew a strand of hair from her face without looking away from the numbers. "I can't believe he told you all of that."
"Actually, he told me nothing. I have no idea what you are talking about regarding his plan and cooperating with him, but now I'm dying of curiosity. As for the sex, well, Jacques and I are close but some subjects are off limits." Ava tossed her head back and laughed loud. "I've missed you, Jessica. So dramatic, just like Jacques."
She bit back a retort, after all now she'd been the one to lay it all out there. Great. She knew from experience that Ava was the last person you wanted having ammunition against you. Devious, that defined Ava Sinclair. Look at how she'd so easily wrangled information from her in only a few minutes. She shook her head in self-disgust.
"Now I know why he returned to New York later than planned, he spent the night with you. Tell me," Ava leaned close, "how long did the argument last before you two were all over each other again?"
“That's enough, I've said too much as it is.” Her panties melted to her skin at the memory of him ripping her tank top into pieces.
“Do you ever wonder what would have happened if you had married him?”
She must have been very bad in a former lifetime. “We would be sisters, for one.”
“That is a good thing, yes? A benefit?” Ava’s smile widened. Unlike Jacques, no dimples appeared.
Shoes seemed too tight for feet that seemed to swell during the past five minutes. “I really don’t have time to play what-if games with you.”
“No? You have no feelings left for him then? You won’t care if you never see him again, if he marries someone else? I suppose it's good that you have moved on, very healthy of you.” Ava sashayed ahead of her when the elevator doors opened to the lobby.
Marry someone else? The floor tilted beneath her feet. He had left the ring, told her that…oh my God, he was getting married. She gritted her teeth and jogged to catch up to Ava.
“Who’s he marrying? When?” Sweat beaded her skin.
"What do you care? You have no feelings for him." With a slight movement of her hand, Ava managed to snag a taxi in under thirty seconds. “I’m in the mood for Italian, know of a place close by?”
“I shouldn’t be going anywhere with you. You're dangerous."
“Dangerous? How flattering.” Ava pulled her into the cab and nodded at the driver. “Take us to the best Italian restaurant you know. Pronto.”
She remained silent in the taxi, swung her foot in the air and chewed her bottom lip. Thoughts raced in every direction. She could care less if he married some woman. He'd been right labeling the other night as a mistake. As for him wanting her paintings hanging with his photographs, maybe that had been more Miranda's idea than his. She had hard time believing he'd want to see her again after the way they'd left things.
It wasn’t until the waiter had delivered a martini that she snapped out of her musings.
“When is he getting married?” She looked at the martini and wondered when she had ordered it.
“He is not getting married. It bothered you, though, didn’t it? The idea of him making a home, a family, with another woman?” Green eyes hardened with determination. “A woman like Simone?”
“Simone?” She downed the martini in one swallow.
“They're dating. It’s really more like he goes someplace and she follows along. You remember Simone, don’t you?”
“Vaguely.” Oh, she remembered that woman with the lethal eyes and bad attitude.
“So…you sketch buildings for a living now? Fascinating. Jacques told me that you hide your artwork—”
“Hide? I'm not hiding anything, I…” She closed her eyes, counted to ten and grinned at Ava. “He has no idea what I do or don’t do.”
“He mentioned your hair.”
“What did he do? Go back and hold a press conference?” She held up her empty glass when the waiter walked by. This lunch definitely called for more than one martini.
“I've missed you,” Ava said so softly she was barely heard across the table.
“I missed you, too.” She looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “I'm surprised you don’t hate me.”
“I did for awhile.” Ava shrugged. “But then I didn’t, then I understood. You were too young, he wanted too much.”
Jessica blew out a long breath and relaxed against the back of the booth. “He didn’t want too much, that wasn’t the problem. I was the problem. It was all me, my fault. He didn't do anything wrong. I couldn't be the person he needed me to be.”
“You were exactly what he needed.” Ava grinned. “You needed him, as well, yes?”
Jessica fidgeted in the seat, disliking the word need. “Why are you here? I’m sure you didn’t fly up from New York early just to tell me that Simone is dating Jacques. That’s really not my business and I—”
“Isn’t it? You should have seen your face when I mentioned her name.”
“He told me he was dating someone, I just didn’t think he would stoop to dating that viper. She can't have changed that much...is she still a maniac? Does she still have a wicked temper? No wonder he stays on the move, best to take her in small doses, I'm sure.” She chewed her lower lip at the thought of that woman kissing him, touching him…Screw one martini, she needed a pitcher. “What can he be thinking?”
“She says she loves him.”
“Oh, I'm sure she does just as much as I love having my eyes poked out with sticks.”
“And you and Marc,” Ava said, her grin fading, “how long have you been together?“
Sighing, she toyed with the napkin on her lap and stared at his sister in an attempt to read her thoughts. She failed.
“Marc and I are…friends, good friends. I don’t have time for relationships. With Marc…or with Jacques. I'm good solo.”
“You and Jacques are so dramatic about everything. I believe the phrase is over-the-top, yes?” From the pocket of her white jacket she produced a large envelope. She held it in the air for a minute, hesitated, and then slid it across the table.
“What’s that?” Refusing to touch it, she leaned back in the booth and folded her hands in her lap.
“His itinerary.”
“Itinerary for what?”
“He returns to Boston this afternoon.” Ava’s wicked grin returned and matched the light in her eyes.
“Will Simone be with him?” She stared at the folded paper on the table between them and thought of her words to Sela about stalking.
“Not until Friday.”
“I've been told that he wants my paintings hanging at his show.” She toyed with the edge of the paper before lifting her gaze to Ava's. "Why does he want that? I heard it directly from the gallery owner. Is he trying to humiliate me in public? Is Simone behind it?"
“He didn't mention this. Believe me, Simone is not involved. She doesn't want you within a mile of him.” Ava folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “Are you going to do it?”
“Ava—”
“You used to know what you wanted. Why do you look so nervous? What are you afraid of? Surely you’re not afraid of Jacques? Or me?”
"I'm not nervous." She pushed the paper around in a circle with her index finger. "Why do I need his itinerary? I'm not the kind of woman who chases a man who's already been caught by someone else."
"Simone," Ava said with a twist of her lips. "Those few years after you left him were disastrous."
"How long have they been together?" She froze and held her breath. Ava shook her head and looked away. "How long?"
"On and off for almost three years now, that we know of. We lost touch with Jacques for over a year after you left. When he reemerged, they were together and answered no questions." Ava leaned back in the booth.
Three years. They'd only been together May through September a world away. Another lifetime ago. She
took a long sip of her drink and swirled it around in her mouth.
"She makes him incredibly unhappy, edgy, but she has a hold on him. None of us can figure it out...We are all concerned he is lost to us, the Jacques we once knew." Ava's cool and in control facade slipped to show deep concern.
"Who is we?"
"Carter, Kevin, my parents, myself." Ava shrugged elaborately and fidgeted with the stem of her martini glass. "Simone is poison."
"I have no right to get involved in this." She rolled her shoulders back, her blood boiling at the thought of Simone making love to Jacques whenever she wanted. It made her sick to her stomach.
"He told me you returned to Italy." Ava watched her carefully.
"I did." She avoided this subject on all fronts, yet now it kept recurring like a horrible nightmare. "I'd rather stay focused on now, okay? No looking back."
"He loves you, never stopped. I know. He's here because of you whether he is conscious of it or not."
An overwhelming sense of urgency to flee came over her. He'd spent three years in an on and off again relationship with the one woman on earth she despised. They'd had only five months together. That's it. Despite the length of time, they'd somehow managed to fool themselves into getting engaged and planning some fantasy. She'd been right to run then...and she should do it now.
"I need to get back to the office." She stared at the uneaten pasta on her plate. "This isn't going to work. I hope we see each other again this week, though. I really have missed you."
Ava snagged her hand and squeezed until she looked up. "He has never lived with her, has told me he will never marry her, but there's something holding him to her that he needs a reason to end. Be that reason. Fight for him. Can you honestly tell me that you don't care?"
"Of course I care, but he doesn't." She yanked her hand away. "He thinks I am dead inside, gave me his ring, that's that. The end. I don't want to see him again and I definitely don't want to see Simone. Listen, Ava, this was a mistake. I'm sorry. I can't be what you want me to be...never could. I'm not that person you knew in Italy, I'm not. My life here is uneventful and that's what I like about it."
"He's still very much in love with you," Ava whispered. "You abandoned him, he's like an abused dog lashing out, but only to protect himself. He did all of this for you...the gallery opening here when he could have had his choice of venues in Manhattan and the book signing close to your apartment when he is not doing any other signings anywhere. Does that sound like a man who doesn't want to see you?"
The facts of what Ava said didn't match the venom she'd seen in his eyes Friday night. With a sigh, she leaned back in the booth and closed her eyes. Why did everything have to get so screwed up?
“What if I do all of this—find him, spend time with him this week, follow through with the gallery showing, then what? What do you expect? A catfight with Simone for your personal entertainment? If he's hooked up with her, then I'm not the one who's changed, he has. He must be an entirely different man than the one I knew.”
“He's thinking of leaving New York permanently.”
“That's not a surprise, is it?"
"Have you truly become this cold or were you always this way? Why did you leave? He said he came home and everything had been left, even your paintings. He thought something horrible had happened to you. Why did you leave like that?"
She squeezed her eyes shut thinking of the call that her mother had overdosed on heroin and had slipped into a coma. It had been a suicide attempt. She'd come back to Boston intending to return to Italy, but the weight of her responsibilities had kept her rooted in place.
"I never discuss that," she whispered into her martini glass. She nodded when the waiter asked if she wanted another drink. “I would have held him back. Can you really see this as his home? He roams the earth, camera in hand, no cares. He lives for that, doesn’t he? How can we make it work if he's never in one place?”
"You returned to Italy for him, intended to move here as a couple. Why not now? That's the question. Do you love him or not? You loved him enough to say yes to his proposal, could that have changed so much in five years?" Ava smiled like someone who'd just snared her victim in a net. "Women know when a man wants them and you know damn well he wants you."
Avoiding Ava's gaze, she bit back a smile. When they'd been entangled together Friday night, she'd had no doubt about the depth of his want. "What happens if this works?" she asked quietly. "If I get him back, I won't be able to let him go. Then what?"
Ava shrugged as if the question didn't make sense.
"I'm an associate partner now, my life is in Boston. I have more responsibilities. I like being an architect, love my friends and my home. I can't traipse off on a whim." But he could come home to her full of stories about his adventures and they'd never take time for granted...She sighed.
"Has he ever asked you to give anything up for him?"
"No."
"Then why would he now? He knows this is who you are, understands that this has always been your plan."
"He doesn't trust me, thinks everything I say is a lie."
"Do you want him back in your life? It is a yes or no answer, Jessica. Tell me." Ava watched her over the rim of the martini glass.
"It's not that easy."
"Yes or no?"
"I can't just flick my finger and have him back. Things are complicated." She shifted in her seat, hating that she couldn't get comfortable.
"Yes or no?"
"Oh, for God's sake, yes. Satisfied? Yes. I was an idiot and asked him for a do over when I saw him on Friday. He looked at me like I'd sprouted horns and a tail."
"Really? You asked him that?" Ava propped her elbows on the table and teepeed her fingers together. "A lot seems to have happened on Friday that I didn't know. This is all good, yes?"
"If you define any of this as good, then we definitely have different perspectives on the situation. I need to get back to work."
Silence stretched across the table. Ava studied the contents of her martini glass. Jessica sipped her martini. Neither touched the pasta.
“All we’re missing is some bad guitar music and Luca screaming at us to be quiet,” she whispered, caught up in a memory.
“Luca.” Ava smiled at the name. “I wonder what that old man is doing now.”
“Probably still screaming at his tenants, conjuring up excuses to inspect the apartments of the single girls…” She imagined the old building in Florence to be just as it had been, as if none of them had ever lived there, filled with more young foreigners full of ideals.
“I walked past the building a few years ago, did not go inside, though. It felt,” she shrugged, “empty.”
“I haven’t been back to Europe since I left.” She smoothed a napkin across her lap, noticed the trembling hands and fisted them against her thigh. “I haven’t taken a vacation or a even a sick day in five years.”
“Admirable,” Ava said doubtfully.
“I never drink at lunch.” She fingered the base of the martini glass.
“How responsible of you.”
She grinned at Ava’s polite tone. “And I never stalk ex-boyfriends.”
“Pity.”
She opened the itinerary, noticed the name of his hotel, his cell phone number, all of it. “Did I mention that I have a friend in the DA’s office? You would like her. She’s very...non-lawyer-like.”
Ava’s laugh sparked an answering one of her own. “You haven’t changed so much, have you?”
The thought sobered her. She had compromised so much in the past years that she wondered how to answer.
She met Ava’s stare with one of her own. “I would have held him back.”
“Why do you think Jacques is in New York?”
“A lot of people enjoy living in New York, especially photographers with supermodel girlfriends and fashion designer sisters.” She ripped a piece of bread into shreds.
“He could live anywhere. He bought a house in Florence, but it is empty
. He never goes there.”
A house in Florence. The news hit her like a cold shower. They'd talked about doing that when they'd fantasized about a future together...house in Florence, a lush garden, good lighting for painting, a home base for traveling. It had all seemed possible then.
"He bought a house?" She motioned to the waiter for another martini.
"Why do you think he did that? That is what he was doing the day you disappeared. He wanted to give it to you as an engagement present for the two of you. He had big dreams for that run down place."
“If he wanted to…” She let the words trail off as she stared at Ava’s face. Her heart twisted like a dishrag. Breath snagged in her throat. “You expect a lot from me and I'm not sure I can deliver.”
“The person I knew—”
“I am who I am now, take it or leave it. This is me.” Her stomach rolled and pitched like a ship tossed at sea. “I’m proud of myself, of the life I have.”
“You keep saying that…over and over you tell me how happy you are. Who are you trying to convince?”
When she lifted her gaze to meet Ava’s, she felt the stirrings of courage rattle her heart. The passion between them the other night had been real. Vivid.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t try.” A slow smile spread across her face, fueling her with boldness.
“You’ll call him then? You'll go head to head with Simone?” Golden eyebrows lifted in mock surprise.
“Truth is, ever since he left my apartment I've been wracking my brain for a way to see him again. Simone's just a bonus. I can deal with her.” She grinned over a fork-full of pasta.
“When you see him, what will you do with him?” The martini glass dangled from Ava’s fingertips.
“I have no idea.” Well, she had a fantasy or two but no concrete plans. She grinned as she chewed.
Ava nodded, the expression on her face reminding Jessica of a child eager to open gifts at Christmas. "You used to say plans were like chains designed to tie a person to the mundane.”
“I used to say a lot of things. I was twenty-seven and full of bullshit."
“We all were. I still am, actually. You act like our time in Florence was so long ago when it wasn't. Not really. Age is a state of mind.” Ava studied her over the rim of the wine glass, eyes full of curiosity. "I see why Jacques is concerned about you."
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