An Unlikely Bride

by Nadia Lee

  “Oh my God. I’m going to kill Drew!”

  “What happened?” I ask in a voice I hope is normal. I don’t think Bennie is angry with Drew—he sounds too exuberant for that—but something’s got him worked up.

  “His mother dropped in for a surprise visit. And the bastard didn’t tell me, so I was completely ambushed when I came home from work. I almost fainted. Thank God it was after school, so I was presentable.” Bennie always dresses in a sharp suit for his classes.

  I muster a proper response. “Wow. Um…how did it go?”

  “She was so…normal. I couldn’t believe it. She didn’t mind taking off her Cucinelli pumps in the entryway, or eating our cup ramen. It was positively surreal.”

  “So it went well?”

  “Uh-huh. So well that I actually thought I dreamed it all! She said she was thrilled—a direct quote—that Drew had found someone he loves so much.” Bennie lets out a squeal. “She asked me to forgive her for barging in, but she couldn’t stand the curiosity. She’d never seen Drew so in love before.” He takes a breath. “Also a direct quote.”

  “I’m really happy for you.” My breath hitches as a fresh wave of tears fill my eyes, and I bite my lower lip, praying he didn’t hear it.

  Of course, today isn’t my lucky day. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” My voice breaks.

  “Okaaay… Come on, girl. You can’t hide what’s going on. Oh shit. It’s Thanksgiving, isn’t it? Something happened to Darcy and Ray?”

  I shake my head then remember he can’t see me. “No. Nothing like that.” My knees are too weak, and I can’t remain standing anymore. I slowly fold until I’m squatting on the concrete. “I’m a mess. You were right about everything.”

  “What happened?”

  I tell him about the dinner—how it was going so well until Faye showed up and dropped the bombshell. “I ruined everything.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were going to tell him. It’s just that that bitch had to fuck it up. Ugh. This is why I hate men with clingy exes! Hetero, homo, bi…it doesn’t matter. They’re like cockroaches, always coming out when you least want them.” He breathes out harshly. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Just be yourself. That’s more than enough, Bennie.” I wipe the tears from my face. Mascara smears my fingers.

  “Jesus. I’m a shitty friend, going on about how nice Drew’s mom is when you’re in crisis.”

  “Benjamin Kelly Monsanto, you did not just say that!”

  “Hey, what’s with the attitude?” There’s a wince in his voice. He hates it when people use his full name.

  “I’m just glad one of us is happy, okay? Don’t ever try to lessen your happiness for me. If you’re really my friend, you’ll relish every second of joy because that’s what I want for you.”

  “Ava…”

  “At least one of us, Bennie.”

  “Thanks.” He is subdued. “You know… Just a suggestion…”

  “Yeah?”

  “When I was too scared to go for it with Drew, you pushed me to do it, right? And he and I had a real heart-to-heart. You know a lot about Lucas—at least a lot of the public stuff. He probably doesn’t know much about you, except what you told him.”

  “Probably not.” He knows about how I grew up—sort of—and my parents’ utterly dysfunctional lives, but he doesn’t know much about me since my first encounter with Blake.

  “Give him a day or two to digest it all—just like you needed time to pull things together after you googled him—then talk to him. If he really loves you, he’ll give you that chance.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “You didn’t what?”

  “I didn’t give him a chance to explain when I read about the deal between him and his father.”

  “That was different,” Bennie says loyally.

  “No, it wasn’t.” I wrap an arm around my knees. “Maybe I’m just not worthy of a chance. Lucas deserves somebody better than me, somebody who actually listens and cares about him.”

  “Don’t do that. Look, I was skeptical as hell, but I listened to you and now I have Drew. I know you’re hurting, but do as I say and go talk to him after giving him some time to cool off. Got it?”

  I bite my lower lip. “Okay,” I croak, even though I am not sure if I’m really going to follow through. Unlike Bennie and Drew, Lucas’s and my relationship is full of scars, so many of them inflicted by me. At some point, he’s going to cut his losses.

  And I can’t help but think maybe that time is now.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Lucas

  If this Black Friday gets any darker, they’ll have to call it Black Hole Friday. I sprawl on Blake’s couch and just…stare. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since the bombshell went off, which should make me lucid.

  It’s not working.

  Thoughts spin around my head—not as badly as before—but I can’t seem to get a grip on anything. They slip past, elusive as a school of minnows.

  The only thing I know is that Mia is mine…and Ava hid her from me all this time.

  “Want some vodka? Elizabeth’s favorite,” Blake says, coming down from his room upstairs with a full bottle clutched in his fist. He’s in frayed jeans and a white T-shirt, his feet bare. The circles under his eyes are a deep purple, but he doesn’t seem much the worse for wear. But then he never did need a lot of sleep.

  “You going to drink again?”

  “Why not?” He settles into an armchair, propping his feet on a matching ottoman. “Beats brooding, which is what you’re doing.”

  “I’m not brooding. I’m thinking.”

  “Yeah, in circles. I can tell. If you need some suggestions—”

  “I don’t need your advice.”

  He raises an eloquent eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know why she did it?”

  I study his posture—arms crossed, eyes watery but steady. “Did you get diagnosed with something terminal? An inoperable brain tumor? Cancer, maybe? This solicitude isn’t like you.”

  Blake snorts. “I’m in perfect health, asshole. I’m trying to get you to quit chasing your tail.”

  “You said you don’t remember being nasty to Ava.” She implied her decision had something to do with her encounter with my eldest brother, but… Damn it. Who the hell am I supposed to believe now? Until Faye’s announcement, my answer would’ve been Ava, but now…

  Now I don’t know.

  “I don’t.” Blake scowls. “But that doesn’t… Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair.

  “What?”

  “I might’ve said something.”

  I sigh. “Great.”

  “I was in a bad place, mentally. I wouldn’t have come to the hospital if Elliot hadn’t said you might die.”

  “What the hell can put you in a place so bad—mentally—that you can’t remember what you said?”

  A flush streaks his cheeks. “It involved Dane and a woman.”

  I straighten. “Dane? Dane Pryce?”

  He nods.

  “For fuck’s sake. Dane’s romance can’t be worth much mental energy.” I’ve met the man a few times, but he’s cold, not an ounce of compassion in his expression or voice. He actually comes off as sociopathic.

  “It wasn’t about his romance.”

  It slowly dawns on me. “Yours?”

  Blake rolls his eyes. “It’s an old story. In any case, I could’ve said something without realizing it. But no, I don’t remember.”

  “What the fuck. You should’ve told me this before.”

  “I don’t want to even think about that time.”

  “All of us have stuff we don’t want to think about.”

  “Anyway,” Blake says, pointing the bottle at me, “here’s the advice. Make her tell you everything.”

  “How’s that going to help?” What if she tells me something I’d rather not know? That she never thought I w
as good enough? Or maybe she thought I’d make a terrible father. After all, I’m a fuck-up. I might’ve gotten better over time, but…

  I’m like a broken bowl—it can be put back together, but it’ll never be as good as it was before.

  “You won’t be flying blind, for one thing. And there won’t be any way for someone like Faye to throw a Molotov cocktail into your relationship. Or, if you’re tired of Ava, this is the perfect time to end it. You can be the good guy here—the victim of her scheming ways.”

  “I’m no fucking victim.”

  As the words slip out of my lips, I realize that’s true. I don’t let my mother’s poisonous words chip away at me day and night like they used to. The main thing I’ve been thinking about since the day Ava came to my suite to mend our relationship is our future together—how I’m going to spoil her and treasure her, so she’ll never, ever lack for anything. Every smile from her, every contented sigh is a gift.

  My phone rings. I pick it up, hoping it’s Ava calling. But no, it’s some unknown number. Who…?

  “Hello?” I answer anyway. Just in case.

  “Is this Lucas?”

  I tense. It’s Ray. “Speaking.”

  A soft clearing of the throat. “This is Ray McIntire. Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Depends on what you got to say.” I haven’t forgotten the way he pulled Mia out of my reach. Bastard. “How did you get my number?”

  “Ava gave it to me when you took her away for the weekend in Charlottesville. I insisted, since I didn’t quite trust you.”

  “Did you think I’d kill her? Leave her body on the side of the road?”

  There’s a stretch of silence that’s all too eloquent. Then he says, “Ava and Darcy left to do some shopping, and I wanted to talk to you without them listening.” He draws in air audibly. “Blame me.”

  “For what?”

  “Everything. Ava wanted to tell you about Mia, but I asked her not to.”

  “Why?”

  “I can’t lose my daughter.”

  Anger erupts within me. I jump to my feet, my arm slashing the air. “She’s my daughter!”

  “You weren’t even there!” Ray bellows. “Who do you think gave Ava the support and love she needed when she was alone and pregnant? It sure as hell wasn’t you!”

  “Because I didn’t know!”

  “And if you had, what would you have done? You didn’t bother to tell her who you really were. You had your fancy piece on the side. What could we realistically expect you to have done?”

  I glare at the phone. How dare he talk to me that way? The only reason I’m restraining myself with him is that he’s the one who took Ava in and raised her as his own after her mother died…

  “She couldn’t rely on you, not after learning about that other woman. It’s unfair to act like she took something from you. Because she didn’t.”

  The phrasing of his comment hits me. When I showed up in Chiang Mai and mentioned that she’d taken something from me, she almost passed out from shock. She must’ve assumed I found out about Mia and planned to take her.

  “Ava almost lost Mia, and it’s partly your fault. She was too stressed and heartbroken. We did everything we could for her, and it’s unfair that you pop up now expecting to play father.”

  “Then why are you calling? To tell me to fuck off?” There’s no way I’m listening to this garbage.

  “No.” Ray’s laugh is hollow. “I’m calling because she’s hurting so badly. She’s hurting worse than she did before, even though she’s put on that ‘I’m fine’ smile of hers. That’s why I want you to know where the blame lies—with me.” Then he hangs up.

  I snarl at the phone.

  “Who was that?” Blake asks.

  “Ava’s foster father.”

  “What does he want?”

  “He says he’s the one who told Ava to keep the whole baby thing a secret.”

  Blake’s mouth twists. “You believe that?”

  “Do you?”

  He shrugs.

  “What would you have done?” I ask, even though it’s a stupid idea. Blake is the worst relationship person.

  “I’m not like you. I never give anyone a second chance to fuck me over.”

  Of course not. What he’s saying is so logical. So normal, but part of me rebels at the idea.

  “So don’t worry about what I would’ve done. It isn’t important,” Blake continues. “What matters is what you’re gonna do. Because she’s your woman, not mine.”

  He proffers the bottle again and I shake my head. He shrugs and takes a generous swig.

  I go out on the balcony to look at the city below. She’s somewhere out there…hurting, if Ray is to be believed. And the notion of Ava in pain sends a pang through my heart. I put a hand on my chest, rubbing as though I can will away the ache.

  The hell of it is, I believe Ray’s telling the truth. Ava and I promised to be honest with each other, and she wouldn’t disregard that unless she had an excellent reason. And Ray and Darcy are her weakness.

  I can follow Blake’s life philosophy. He might never have experienced love—or even given a shit about such things—but I know he’s never suffered the way I have, either. He’s always so careful, so strategic about everything. And not giving Ava another chance to shred my soul makes perfect sense.

  Except isn’t that what almost ended us in Charlottesville?

  I stare at the phone. My thoughts are still too jumbled, and I don’t know if I’m being smart or stupid, but I know one thing.

  Ava didn’t give me a chance to explain about the damned deal because she was devastated and had already made up her mind…about me, about us, about everything. Even after all that, she came to me and bared her soul, fighting for me because she couldn’t stand to end it.

  I want us to have a happy ending, with her loving me the way I love her. If that makes me needy and pathetic, so be it.

  I can’t let Ava go like this.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ava

  Darcy and I go shopping. I’m not really in the mood, but Ray insists that we go have “some girl time,” shooing us out the door and promising to watch Mia for the duration.

  The malls are packed, every store overflowing with people. Darcy and I snag a few deals after fighting hordes of sale-crazed shoppers, then—thank God—manage to grab a table at Starbucks and get some coffee. I don’t know about her, but my feet are killing me, even in sneakers.

  “That was fun,” Darcy says. “At least I’m done with Christmas gifts for this year.”

  “A woman with a plan.” I smile. She doesn’t need to shop Black Friday bargains to be able to afford presents. “And thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Being sweet. If I’d stayed home, I would’ve been moping all day.”

  Darcy sighs. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t realize Ray asked you to keep it from Lucas. That was…shortsighted.”

  “He wants to protect you.”

  She nods. “But Lucas has the right. I’m not going to lie and say that if he decides to take her from us, it won’t hurt. It will. Unbearably. But the truth always comes out, and it would have been much worse if he found out later. I much prefer having it out in the open, and then we can make our case for why he should honor the adoption.”

  I reach out and take her hand. Darcy is always so levelheaded.

  “I hope you make up with him,” she says.

  “I… Yeah. I don’t know how.”

  “Maybe you two could talk…?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to want to hear me out. He was really, really angry.”

  “When you went upstairs at Ryder’s house, you didn’t have enough time to tell him everything. Maybe you should, from the beginning. How what he did hurt, how it left you no choice. If he’s the kind of man who deserves your heart, he’ll understand you did the best you could in the situation, Ava.”

  I hope so. But she’s right. No matter ho
w nervous the idea makes me, I need to talk to him. I can’t just…give up like this.

  My phone rings. Probably Ray calling for us to come back. As lovely as Mia is, she can be a handful to—

  “Ava.”

  My mouth dries at the sound of Lucas’s voice. I take a quick swallow of my coffee. “Hi.”

  “Are you busy today?” There’s no inflection, nothing in his tone to indicate his mood.

  “No. Well, it depends on when. I should be free in about three hours.” That should give me enough time to go home and change. I don’t want to see him in these old clothes.

  “Then is about five thirty good?”

  “Yes. Perfect.”

  “I’ll send you a car at four thirty.”

  “Okay,” I say, my voice shaky.

  He hangs up. No teasing tone, no “I love you”—and I realize how much that hurts.

  “Who was that?” Darcy asks, but she already knows.

  I meet her eyes, hoping for some kind of sign. “He wants to talk.”

  “That’s good then.”

  “Yeah…I guess.” I hope so. Oh, how I hope so. “But I need to go back and get ready. Do you mind if we cut our shopping short?”

  “Of course not.” She loops an arm through mine. “Let’s go. You’ve got a man to win over!”

  * * *

  Ava

  The penthouse Lucas’s driver takes me to is not the one Lucas and I saw together. Is this the place he’s planning to get? I have no idea what the location means.

  I vaguely register that it’s far more opulent than the place we decided on. The place is like a palace, designed to awe. It’s so ostentatious, it’s almost embarrassing.

  An elevator with one glass wall takes me to the top level. I see L.A., twilit, at my feet, but it only makes my palms clammier. The people below seem to judge me…speculating about my chances of success.

  I place a hand over my fluttering belly. Surely I can make this work. I’m in my favorite cornflower dress and matching heels. I didn’t do anything special with my hair, just brushed it out, but my face sports fresh makeup. I’m not here to elicit pity or anything like that. I just want a chance to say how sorry I am and explain why I felt I had to do what I did. It isn’t easy—I’m not generally an open person.