by Nadia Lee
I still don’t understand why Lucas didn’t just go to Faye. The woman is absolutely gorgeous, and I’m sure she’d be more than willing to marry him. I saw the way she followed him with her eyes. He might believe what they have is platonic, but how she looked at him just isn’t how a woman looks at someone in the friend zone.
Maybe he doesn’t want to ask Faye because she’s not that kind of woman, just like my dad didn’t leave his wife, Sondra, hanging because she isn’t the kind of woman men treat that way. She’s the kind men woo and marry and treat like a queen. It’s like this aura she projects.
When Bennie and I chat on Skype, I tell him this. He shrieks and glares at me. “Ava Huss, you did not just say that!”
“Calm down, Bennie.”
“Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m not going to sit quiet while you bad-mouth yourself!”
I cringe. Maybe I should’ve mulled things over in the peace of my own room.
“For fuck’s sake, Ava! Why the hell would you think shit like that?” He raises a hand, palm out. “No, don’t answer. I know why. That fucking Lucas. I’m so going to send a platoon of ninjas to gut his ass!”
“Okay, Bennie, I ge—”
“Your asshole dad treated you and your mom that way because he was an asshole. Not because there’s something wrong with you. You’ve been moping for a week now, girl! What are you going to do? Just curl up and wait for a man to treat you right, or say fuck all this and treat yourself right? Huh?” He finally starts to calm down a little. “Nobody loves you like yourself. Well, except me. I love you.”
“I know.” I smile wanly.
“You’ve lost weight. Don’t starve yourself over that worthless piece of shit.” Bennie takes a breath. “I swear, we need better cuss words for assholes like Lucas.”
“You swear that you need better cuss words?”
“Shut up.” But he finally smiles. “Look, do what you need to feel better. But don’t forget you’re a fantastic, worship-worthy woman. If Lucas can’t see that, it’s on him, not you. Don’t let some brainless fool destroy your self-esteem. You’re a fabulous human being!”
Bennie’s the really fabulous one here. “Oh, Bennie, if only you were hetero. We’d make beautiful music together.”
“Or if you were gay. No, wait. That wouldn’t work.” We laugh and hang up.
The next day—which happens to be day number eight since the article was published—I get up early, shower and put on a pink long-sleeved shirt and jeans. They hang loosely. Bennie’s right about the weight loss, but I just haven’t had any appetite.
But that’s all over now. No more Pathetic Ava. I didn’t come back to America to leach off Ray and Darcy. I want to be someone they’ll be proud of. And I want to be a role model for Mia, even if she never knows I’m her mother.
Hiding in my room is not going to achieve any of these things.
I fire up my computer and answer the medical center email with an affirmative for a phone interview. I don’t think anything will come of it—there must be a qualified candidate who’s closer—but why not? Then I upload my résumé to a few more places.
Once I’m done, I go downstairs. Ray and Darcy are reading next to each other on the couch and they look up almost simultaneously in surprise. I haven’t been downstairs much in the last week.
“Good morning,” Ray says in a careful but cheery voice. “You want some breakfast? We have coffee and I’m about to make pancakes.”
“Both, if you don’t mind.”
Ray beams. “Of course not. I’d be delighted.”
Darcy immediately jumps to her feet and offers me a fresh mug of coffee. Ray whips up breakfast quickly, as though he’s afraid that if he takes too long I’ll change my mind. Their kindness brings a fresh wave of tears, and I wipe them away. I’m going to be okay—I have amazing people in my life. I don’t need Lucas to make things work.
One step at a time. And surely I’ll be happy on my own.
After breakfast, I ask Ray, “Is there a pot I can use?” He and Darcy maintain a bountiful herb garden in the back. “Just a small one. I want to plant something.”
“But it’s fall, love,” Darcy points out.
I force a smile. “It’s fine if it doesn’t survive or do well. I just want to try.”
“There’s an old terra-cotta pot in the shed,” Ray says. “It’s pretty small, but if you just want to experiment, it might be enough.”
“That’d be perfect. Thank you.”
I walk into the shed and see the pot Ray was talking about. It’s old and slightly discolored, a sun-faded reddish orange. But it’s exactly what I need. I take it to the backyard garden and fill it. Thankfully the pot’s small so it doesn’t require much time or dirt. I’d hate to leave a big hole.
When I bring it inside, Darcy looks at it curiously. “What are you trying to grow?”
“A very special something,” I say.
“A mystery, huh? Well, hope it works. It’s such a pleasure to watch something grow and thrive under your care.”
“I hope so, too.” I speak with more confidence and verve than I’ve had in days. This little pot is going to make my point crystal clear to Lucas.
At nine thirty sharp, Lucas shows up, knocks on the door and waits. Ray gets up from his armchair, ready to tell him off yet again, but I rise to my feet.
“I’ll deal with him.”
Ray’s eyebrows go up a notch. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He stands there, clearly wanting to go with me. “If you need reinforcements, we’re right here.”
I give him a small smile. “I know. Thank you.”
I take the pot and go to the door. Before Lucas can knock again, I open it.
There stands Lucas. A white button-down dress shirt and black slacks look good on him. Some men are made by clothes, but Lucas isn’t one of them. He makes the clothes. But no matter how well cut, they can’t hide the weight loss. His facial bones are sharper and starker. Concern stirs inside me, but I quash it immediately.
I don’t care, not anymore.
“Ava,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as though he’s afraid to spook me. He wets his mouth. “Are you ready to listen?”
“I’m ready to give you five minutes, but only if you do something first.”
“Name it,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I hand him the pot, careful not to let our hands brush. I don’t think I could bear it if we touched skin-to-skin. “Take this.”
He does, eyeing it warily. “What is it?”
“I want you to take care of it for the next two weeks.”
“Then what?”
“Then bring it back.”
His squints slightly. “Is this some kind of test?”
“If you want to think of it that way… Sure.”
“All right.” He’s having a hard time deciding whether to look at me or the pot. “What is it? A tulip? Some kind of herb?”
I shake my head. “Just take care of it for two weeks. You’ll know.”
“And then I get my five minutes?”
“Absolutely.”
He studies me as though he’s looking for some kind of trick. I stare back, willing him to not see how much I’m bleeding inside. It feels like I’m cutting off my own arm, but I have to do this in order to be free to move on.
“Fine. I’ll be back at nine thirty a.m. two weeks from now.” He lifts the pot. “With this baby.”
“Okay. See you then.”
I close the door. He thinks that this is going to give him a chance to talk to me. What he doesn’t know is that it will convince him of how hopeless we are.
Once I hear his car engine start, I go up to my room and sink to the floor, arms around my legs, forehead on my knees. This…this will be the end of me and Lucas.
Hot tears soak my pants.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lucas
I take the old pot back to my place, driving with care, th
en cradle it in my hands like it’s the most fragile and important thing in the entire world as I bring it inside. And it is.
It represents a chance…and possible redemption. I don’t know why or how she came up with this “test,” but I’m certain she expects me to fail. I’m not going to. I’ll set an alarm to remind myself to water it and take care of it to the best of my ability. Not to mention, if I need to, I’m going to ask my gardener. Scott will know—he’s a plant whisperer. Two weeks from now, something wonderful is going to sprout from the dirt and I’ll get my five minutes with Ava—a chance to show her that things are not what they seem.
However, taking care of whatever seed is in the pot isn’t all I do. I drive by Ray and Darcy’s house every so often. Actually at least twice a day. I want a glimpse of Ava, just so the vise around my chest will ease and I can breathe again.
I’m aware of the possibility that this could be a ploy to distract me so she can vanish again. But her disappearing isn’t what makes my palms and spine slick with sweat. What I’m really afraid of is that she might meet someone else…and forget all about a fucked-up damaged guy like me. Jesus, not even my own mother wants anything to do with me.
If my obsessive driving by the damned house makes me a stalker, so be it. The only people who would mock me are ones who never had someone like Ava to lose.
After a week, I notice that something isn’t right with the pot. Although I’m taking care of the seed as well as I can, nothing’s coming up through the dirt. I don’t think it’s supposed to take this long. A Google search tells me most things sprout in four or five days. And something should definitely show by the end of a week.
I have a little conference with my gardener. Scott shakes his head, agreeing that it is indeed odd. He asks me how I’ve been taking care of it and gives me a few pieces of advice. I take them all into consideration, and keep the room where I placed the pot extra warm, just in case.
Still nothing.
As the end of the two weeks approaches, panic mounts. Did I somehow do something to kill the seed, and nothing is going to sprout? Have I fucked up again?
By the last day I’m practically frantic. Scott and I have a conference. “Look,” I say. “It’s just dirt. Nothing is growing. What the fuck’s going on?”
He huffs a breath, his cheeks going poofy. “I don’t know.” He scratches the tip of his chin. “It’s really strange.”
“Maybe the soil’s bad?”
“I doubt it.”
“Then what? You think it’s my fault?”
“No. You’ve been doing everything right.” He shrugs. “Could be just a bad seed…”
“No.” I shake my head. “She wouldn’t have given me something bad on purpose. Ava isn’t like that.”
“That’s not what I meant. Sometimes seeds just don’t sprout.”
But I’m certain that’s not it. The universe simply can’t be that cruel. And Ava would never have knowingly given me a seed that wouldn’t grow. She isn’t like my mother. It’s me. I did something wrong.
All night long I stay up, staring at the damned pot, willing something green to push through the layer of dirt before I have to see Ava.
But my hopes and prayers go unanswered. By nine o’clock I’m pacing in front of the fucking thing, my hands shaky with panic. I can’t go back to her like this—a total failure.
So just get something from a local nursery. Who cares? All young plants probably look the same anyway.
But I can’t. That would be lying, and she’s already upset about the fact that I didn’t tell her everything. I can’t add lies to what I’ve done.
Damn it. Damn it!
Fucking Elliot and his fucking mess with Wife Number Three.
My hands clammy and my heart thudding, I somehow manage to drive to Ray and Darcy’s house without totaling the car. My eyes are gritty from the lack of sleep. I’m running on adrenaline and nerves, and it’s all I can do to keep myself together.
I hold the pot against my chest and knock on the door. After a few moments, Ava appears on the other side. Her long platinum hair hangs loosely around her slender shoulders and down her trim back, her sky-colored eyes unreadable. The dark half-moons underneath her eyes are gone, although she’s still a bit too pale for my taste. Still, she looks so beautiful in a red shirt and old blue jeans that it hurts.
My heart thunders. Boom, boom, boom. Can’t lose her. Can’t lose her. Can’t lose her.
I swallow. “Ava.”
“Lucas.”
Her gaze drops to the pot cradled in my arm. She raises her eyes back to my face. She doesn’t invite me in. Instead, she steps out and closes the door.
“Nothing?”
That single word guts me.
Blood roars in my ears, and I can’t stop the horrible, nasty feelings from gelling in my gut like milk gone sour. “Ava, I did everything. I talked with my gardener and I did everything I could. You have to believe me.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.”
What the fuck? “Of course it matters! It matters to me. It matters that you believe in me, have faith in me.” Her face is closing; she’s shutting me out. Panic spikes. “If you can’t give me the five minutes because nothing grew, then give me another chance. I swear to you—”
“Nothing was going to grow.”
It takes me a moment to process what she just said. “What?”
“There’s nothing but dirt in the pot.”
I shake my head, feeling like I’m in some kind of dream. “So I was supposed to fail?”
“Not fail. Be convinced.”
“Of what?” I stare at her, willing myself to read her thoughts. “Are you trying to punish me?”
“If anyone’s being punished, it’s me—you keep picking at my old wound.”
Suddenly, the lack of sleep and panic push my emotions over the edge. “Bullshit! That’s called bad faith.”
“Is it? I’ve done the same thing to you that you’ve done to me.”
“I’ve never acted in bad faith with you!”
Her cheeks turn red and rage erupts in the icy blue of her eyes. “You haven’t? You didn’t get me fired from my school? You didn’t have my new job offer rescinded? You didn’t withhold some pretty damn important information about what’s been going on between you and your father? About your inheritance? You didn’t do any of that?”
My mouth parts. I’ve never considered… I didn’t think about how my desperate drive to have her back would look.
She isn’t finished. “Right. So instead of acting in good faith, you used your time to try to seduce me with empty words and gestures. What you’ve given me is exactly like that pot—nothing in it except dirt. But I would’ve believed, Lucas. I would have believed something wonderful could grow from it, and I would’ve poured my heart and soul and life into it…only to end up with nothing. Because you’ve never felt anything real for me.”
“That’s not…” I put down the pot. Some dirt has gotten on my palms, but I barely register that before reaching out and holding her hand in mine. It’s so warm and sweet against my bare skin. “I’m in love with you, Ava.” Tell me I’m enough. Tell me you love me, too. Tell me I’m not some craven bastard for saying this to you, wishing that you’d say it back.
Her face crumples for a moment. Hope stirs within me, but then the voice drowns it. When you say things like “I love you” you’re trying to get the other person to say it back. A vise tightens around my chest. I can’t draw in any air, but I try to keep myself together. This is the most important conversation of my life.
You’re being needy.
My head pounds, and I can barely think. I’m so fucking nauseous, I’m barely standing up, but I do. I have to salvage this…have to save what I have with Ava.
Abruptly a hard mask descends over her face. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Lucas, just to score a point.”
“Seriously? You think—” I haul in a lungful of air and struggle for control. “You thi
nk I’d say that to a woman I didn’t love?”
“Yes.” She pulls her hand out of my grasp, brushing her palm against her pants. When she looks back up at me, her gaze is as hard and sharp as a guillotine. “I do.”
Don’t touch me.
What did I say about touching me when you’re dirty?
A cacophony of noise rolls through my head. I open and close my grubby hand.
She takes a half step back, shakes her head. “You’re toxic, Lucas…”
The ugly sounds grow louder in my ears, but her voice is crystal clear, cutting through it all like a machete. “Ava,” I whisper, my tongue thick and clumsy. Please stop, please stop, please sto—
“…and that is why I’m done with you.”
——
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Titles by Nadia Lee
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Billionaires’ Brides of Convenience Series
Book 1: A Hollywood Deal
Book 2: A Hollywood Bride
Book 3: An Improper Deal