An Unlikely Bride

by Nadia Lee

  “You can’t come here without an appoint—” Meg says, but Jay raises a hand in her direction, palm out. Meg gives up, and heads off toward the conference rooms.

  “Where’s Robbie?”

  “He’s in a meeting at the moment. Is there anything I can help you wi—”

  “You’re his assistant. So you know his schedule, don’t you?”

  “Um, sort of.” I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Why?”

  “What was he doing between five and eight yesterday?”

  Is this about the appointment he missed? “I don’t know. I’m not in charge of his personal sche—”

  “You expect me to believe that? You’re his assistant.”

  “Yes, but he doesn’t have me handle his personal matters.”

  “Right.” Her dark gaze rakes me.

  “Jay.” Robbie appears, trotting toward us. “What are you doing here?”

  “You didn’t come yesterday.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I know. It’s my fault. I had so many meetings yesterday, and it slipped my mind.”

  “Sure. That’s exactly how it is. You didn’t have a party in your hotel room.”

  I can feel my jaw start to slacken. Robbie is staying at a hotel?

  His gaze darts my way for a second. “Can we talk about this in private, Jay?”

  “We were going to talk about it in private, but you didn’t show. Why don’t you just sign the damn papers? They’re so fair my lawyer’s ready to fire me.”

  “Because that’s not what I want.”

  “Right. Our entire marriage is about what you want.”

  “Come on, Jay.” He reaches for her.

  She raises both hands and steps back. “You know what? Forget it. Unlike you, I take my commitments seriously, and I have to be in surgery soon anyway. If you don’t show on Friday, it’s over, Robbie. I’m not wasting any more of my time.”

  She turns around and stalks away as dramatically as she came in. After she disappears into the elevator, I lower my head, unable to meet my boss’s gaze.

  “Ava, can I see you for a moment?” Robbie says as he walks past my desk into his office.

  I follow him in and close the door.

  “Have a seat.” He props his hip against the edge of his desk and breathes out heavily, shoving a hand through his hair. “Sorry about the scene.”

  “No problem.” A very awkward silence permeates the room. “Is everything okay? Your…um…therapist emailed your work account last night.”

  He tilts his head back, his eyes closed. “Damn it. She was supposed to call me on my cell if there’s a problem. Well, you’re going to hear about it anyway, so I might as well tell you now. Jay and I are going through some rough times.”

  That would seem to be an understatement. “Um, yeah…I got that impression.”

  “We’re in counseling at the moment—her idea, because she knows I’m against divorce, but she isn’t really interested in reconciliation.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Eleven years, and it all came down to one thing.” His eyes slide toward a recent photo of him with his wife by the laptop. “A kid. Jay can operate on impossible tumors and save countless lives, but not having a child just…put a hole in what we have.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, but I don’t think he hears.

  “She says I make her feel inadequate, that being with me is painful because she feels like she can’t be enough for me. I adore her so much.”

  “Have you considered using the therapy to tell her how you feel about her?”

  He shrugs. “She’s determined to not hear anything in there. She sits there in silence, and when she does talk, it’s to tell me I don’t know anything. It’s like the therapy is a test to see how far she can push before I break and tell her what she wants to hear.” He rubs his face. “Sorry, I don’t mean to dump all this on you. God, what am I thinking?” He gives me a tight smile. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t march back here and put you in an awkward position again. And I’ll do my best to ensure my personal life doesn’t impact my work here…or yours.”

  “Hey, it’s fine. And I hope everything, you know, works out.”

  But even as I say it, I know he’s not going to be able to give one hundred percent to the job. I’m distracted, letting my feelings for Lucas affect me, and we’ve known each other for what…maybe eight, nine months total if we add up only the time we’ve been together? Robbie’s been with his wife eleven years, probably longer if you count dating before the marriage.

  As I leave, I steal a quick glance at Robbie. His shoulders slope, and he moves like an arthritic man to his work chair.

  I feel an intense agony over the dissolution of my relationship with Lucas, and it’s got to be a hundred times worse for Robbie, who’s built over a decade of life with his wife. I’d probably crawl into a hole and die if Lucas and I broke up after what felt like a lifetime together.

  For the first time, I start to understand my mother’s obsession with my father because I’m beginning to suspect my depth of feeling for Lucas is the same.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ava

  I feel even worse on Friday than I did yesterday. I can barely move my head without feeling nauseated. What did I eat to make me feel so awful?

  Then I recall I had a Chinese takeout that I like when I’m busy. It’s quick and cheap, just what I need. I force myself to sit up, but it only makes me feel worse. Moaning, I crawl to the living room to get my phone. Unfortunately, I left it on the dining table last night after finishing up some memos. I push myself up and grab it, then immediately drop as my head spins until I’m lying flat on my back on the floor.

  I dial Robbie’s personal number.

  “This is Robbie.”

  “Hi, this is Ava.”

  “Ava? Are you okay?”

  His voice seems far away—crappy reception. I must sound bad if he asks me if I’m okay before I say more. “I hate doing this—I really do—but do you mind if I take today off? I don’t feel well, and I’m not sure about driving.”

  “Not at all. Please take care of yourself. I knew you were working too many hours, and I should’ve done something earlier.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m just a bit under the weather. I’ll be fine by Monday.”

  “If you’re sure. But if you don’t feel okay on Monday, you don’t have to come in.”

  “Thanks, boss.” Then I remember something. “Oh, did you get the email I forwarded you from the clinic about…you know…the thing with your wife?”

  “Yes.” He clears his throat. “You mentioned that already.”

  “Oh.” My mind is like a sieve lately. “Sorry. I won’t tell anyone.” Then I add impulsively, “I hope it works out for you.”

  “Thanks, Ava.”

  He hangs up. I loosen my grip on the phone and lie there, my eyes closed. My brain tells me I should get up and shower—at least—but it’s too much bother. It’s not like I’m going to see anybody. If I get hungry—doubtful, given how gross my tummy feels—I’ll just order something.

  I slowly close my eyes and let my consciousness float around, not quite asleep but not awake either—the state I call eighty-five percent sleep…

  I notice Faye with Lucas. She’s stunning in a skintight silk dress in the most vibrant red I’ve ever seen. Lucas whispers something in her ear, and she smiles, then says something in return that makes him throw his head back in laughter.

  She’s with him because you didn’t fight for him.

  He doesn’t love me. Not really.

  I’m in love with you.

  Because you want the painting.

  He—never—needed—you.

  Because I was never that special.

  Lucas dips me in the big-box store. We kiss like a couple newly in love. Giggle about him kidnapping me to Paris.

  Our selfies. We were so happy together. He looks like he cares in those pictures.

  If I had the powe
r to go back in time, I’d erase everything that happened since returning from the bed and breakfast. Then at least everything would be fine in my world, and I’d be happy.

  Until it all crashes down on me, my house of cards, and I start to cry.

  * * *

  Lucas

  Perhaps I should be grateful Ava’s apartment isn’t in a war zone, but that’s about the best I can say about her shitty neighborhood.

  At least it’s low crime area—or so my PI Ken assured me—which I find hard to believe. More likely people assume it’s a low crime area, since there aren’t any security cameras and guards around to record unlawful actions for statistics.

  I loiter outside her building until somebody goes inside. No one stops me, checks my ID, or looks at me suspiciously. I could be a gang-banger for all they know.

  Definitely unsafe.

  I go to Ava’s unit on the third floor. She and I were supposed to have a short meeting to go over our progress. However, Robbie said she was out sick, and I left the medical center immediately to rush to her side.

  But now that I’m here at her door, I hesitate. What the hell am I doing here?

  She and I have nothing to do with each other except for the fundraiser. Would I drive over to a coworker’s place just because he was sick? Of course not.

  On the other hand, I know her work ethic. She never called in sick at work or missed a class when she was in college unless she was half-dead. She wouldn’t take a day off unless she was gravely ill.

  She has no one in the city, except maybe Jon—my teeth grind involuntarily—and I made sure she wouldn’t have any free time to see him. Maybe she needs something to eat. I can just make sure she’s stocked up for the weekend and get out. This has nothing to do with my feel—my previous feelings for her. It’s what any decent human being would do.

  I knock, then try the door. Good God. She didn’t even bother to lock it. Big cities like L.A. are teeming with serial rapists and killers. Just look at the news.

  “Ava?” I call out softly, in case she’s asleep, then step inside, making sure to close and lock the door behind me.

  The place is sparsely furnished with a couch, TV and small dining set big enough for two people. On it is an open laptop. A thin but serviceable beige carpet covers the floor. I look around. Ava hasn’t done much to decorate.

  I start to walk toward the bedroom, that being the logical place to go if she wasn’t feeling well. Instead, I almost trip over her.

  She’s sprawled on the living room floor. Her long platinum hair lies in tangles, and she’s in nothing but a long gray nightshirt with Bugs Bunny in the center holding a carrot.

  Fear clutches my heart, coats my mouth with a sharp, unpleasant tang. Horrible possibilities flash through my mind. Seeing her like this sends me back to the winter I found Grandpa passed out on the floor of his rented Spanish cottage. He recovered all right, but half an hour longer and the story would’ve been very different.

  Am I too late for Ava? How long has she been lying here?

  Her cell phone is in her hand. Did she try to call nine-one-one before passing out?

  I kneel next to her and feel for a pulse. It’s steady, if a bit erratic. Her skin feels overly warm, dark circles are like bruises under her eyes, and her lashes are wet.

  This isn’t Grandpa. She’s young and healthy. Don’t be melodramatic.

  You’re here as a concerned coworker. Nothing else.

  As I pick her up, she moans softly. God, she hardly weighs anything.

  Why did she faint? And don’t women usually recover almost instantly after fainting? At least, they seem to in movies.

  “I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked.”

  No “go fuck yourself, you toxic bastard.” Not even a moan. Instead she remains limp in my arms.

  Panic spikes through me, turning my thoughts sluggish. For fuck’s sake, get a grip. It’s probably nothing. People faint all the time…

  I take Ava to Sterling Medical Center. It’s close anyway, and they’ll surely take care of one of their own. A large and competent-looking nurse bustles over when I arrive. She takes charge, and I have no choice but to hand Ava over even though every cell in my body protests. I watch the staff take her away, her body so small and helpless on the white hospital sheet. I start to say something, start to follow…

  I know she’s in good hands. Nate doesn’t hire incompetent people. But I just…

  I want to be by her side when she wakes up.

  Don’t be idiotic.

  I’ve done my duty. She’s with people who can help her. It’s not as though she’s going to want to see me.

  You’re toxic.

  I haven’t forgotten. I can’t.

  I take a final glimpse of her on the gurney and tell myself to leave.

  Walk away.

  Walk away.

  My legs ignore the command.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Ava

  When I open my eyes, I’m lying on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. What happened?

  The last thing I remember is calling Robbie then sort of drifting away on the living room floor. I probably should’ve crawled back to bed, but that seemed like too much effort for so little reward.

  My mind slowly processes my surroundings. White walls. A narrow bed. A faint odor of disinfectant. A needle in my arm, feeding me some kind of fluid.

  A middle-aged nurse walks by, and I call out, “Excuse me.”

  She stops and turns. Her employee tag reads Leslie Simms, Sterling Medical Center. I’m at work? Except I’m not working, I think.

  “Oh, you’re awake,” she says, a kind smile on her round, friendly face. The fluorescent light hits her permed strawberry-blond hair, making it glow like a halo.

  “Um. Yeah. What happened? What am I doing here?”

  “You don’t remember? Your boyfriend brought you. You fainted.”

  Boyfriend? Fainted? “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Really?” Leslie looks surprised. “I could’ve sworn he was your boyfriend. He stayed here until the doctor said you’d be okay. Just some dehydration, a lack of sleep and possibly stress. You should take better care of yourself,” she chides. “I heard you’re Robbie Choi’s assistant. We don’t want you getting sick, do we?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She checks a few things, then walks away. My thoughts churn. Who brought me here? I can’t think of anybody who can be considered my boyfriend. I went out a couple of times with my coworkers, but the guys at the medical center are all taken. Jon can’t be it either, since going to the function together once doesn’t make us an item, and he would never presume that.

  Now that I think about it… Who the hell came to my apartment in the first place? My coworkers don’t know where I live. HR does, but it’s most likely against policy to give out my address to—

  Lucas.

  I dismiss the possibility as soon as it pops in my head. There is no way he came by. He doesn’t even like me. In fact, he’s probably out with Faye at this very moment.

  Suddenly the back of my neck prickles. I tilt my head and see Elizabeth speaking with a nurse.

  She’s as beautiful as I remember, her golden tresses pulled back in a simple, elegant ponytail. Even her pale lavender wrap dress and the diamond solitaires in her ears exude simple elegance. Every inch of her is carefully groomed, and she easily outshines the basket of yellow and purple tulips she’s holding.

  I turn away. The last person I want to talk to right now is Lucas’s sister. She’s probably here to observe or something. Although she’s not really hands-on, she is helping Nate Sterling in some kind of an advisory position.

  “There you are,” Elizabeth says.

  I wince, then remind myself she can’t see my expression.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I face her. I hate it that I’m down and she’s towering over me. I shrug. “Okay. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d bring yo
u some flowers. Everyone deserves some when they aren’t feeling their best.” She places the basket on the small table by my bed.

  “Thank you.” The tulips are large and bright, and a small smile tugs at my mouth despite myself.

  “And…I wanted to check up on you.”

  “Why? We’re practically strangers.”

  “Are we?”

  “Just because I dated Lucas for a while… We’ve met only once.”

  “Still, ‘strangers’ isn’t quite right, is it? And ‘acquaintances’ sounds a bit clinical. I prefer the term ‘Mia’s aunt.’”

  I hide my shaking hands under the sheet, while she pulls up a chair.

  “Aren’t you busy?” I rasp.

  Her mouth curls into a pleasant smile. “Not particularly.”

  “I’d like to rest.”

  “You can listen with your eyes closed. The doctors didn’t say your ears were in pain.”

  Guess she’s going to be obtuse. Well, I can be a grownup. “All right.” I shift until I’m fully turned toward her. “Go ahead.”

  Her gaze drops briefly to the needle embedded in my arm. “You should take better care of yourself. This isn’t helping anyone.”

  “I had a lot of work recently.”

  “The year-end fundraiser.”

  “Yes. Lucas is helping since you can’t.” I bite my lower lip, realizing I sound almost accusatory. The last thing I need is to betray my feelings. Elizabeth witnessed me making an idiot of myself over Lucas at the opening. No need to display more of my foolishness.

  “I know. Unfortunately, I am truly busy these days.” The corners of her mouth turn downward.

  “It’s okay. I heard.”

  She sighs. “Why do you make yourselves so miserable? All you have to do is be honest, and you’ll know what’s in your hearts.”