Was this what it felt like to be Ashley? I wondered. An instant, guaranteed interest in every facet of my life?
Approval.
Pride in who I was and in what I’d accomplished.
It was so foreign that it felt like someone had dumped me into another country where they didn’t speak the same language, and I was left without a translator.
But it wasn’t about me. Not really.
It was really based on this person sitting next to me. Their interest stemmed and blossomed from the knowledge that I had, in their minds, a successful partner, and not that I was successful in my own right. I wasn't even sure how I felt about that except that for even a moment, I wanted to step into this feeling. No matter how brief it was or how shallow it might seem.
"Your brain is about to start letting off smoke," Logan mumbled.
I glanced sharply at him. "How did you ..."
He gave me a long look, which was no small feat considering he didn't turn his face to me. "I've worked with you for what? Six years? People forget that the quiet guy in the corner is usually quiet so he can figure everyone out."
I couldn't help my smile. "That sounds so creepy."
His brows bent in over his eyes. "Yeah. I suppose it does."
Click.
Logan and I looked over at my mom, who'd just snapped a picture of us on her phone. She smiled sheepishly. Fake sheepishly, but at least she was attempting to look apologetic.
"Sorry, you kids just look so lovely together. All that dark hair." She hummed, staring down at her screen, presumably at her picture of us.
Suddenly, I was in elementary school again, clutching my sparkly purple backpack in my hands on the first day of school and watching my mom take picture after picture of Ashley in front of the tree in our front yard. The bus pulled up, and I smiled, stepping forward so she could get one of me too.
"Come on, Ava," Ashley snapped. "You'll make everyone late."
My mom patted my shoulder absently. "She's right, dear. Go on."
I remember climbing onto the bus, telling myself that she'd get one later when I got home because moms always took the first day of school pictures, right? She didn't. At least, not that year. Not of me.
Just this once, I promised myself even though I heard the dark thread of my thoughts. It was selfish. It was dishonest. And it was shallow.
Still, despite all that, I found myself reaching my hand out and wanting to see how she saw me. Just once.
"Can I see it?" I asked my mom.
With a smile, she handed over her phone. On the large, crystal clear screen, Logan and I had our heads bent toward each other. I was smiling, and he was giving me a look that could only be described as soft and sweet. His hair was darker than mine, almost black in the light of the boat.
The tears that had pressed on the back of my throat earlier spilled up and over, just one sliding past my eyelashes and down my cheek. My hand wiped it away before she saw, but I felt Logan staring at me.
I didn't want this to be the picture on my mom's phone.
I wanted it to be Matthew and me. But the second they knew, the second they found out, I'd be pushed to the side again. Worse, actually. They'd erect a fence between them and me. A protective barrier to keep the unpleasantness away from their picture-perfect lives.
"It's a good picture," I told her thickly and handed her phone back with a shaky hand.
"Your skin looks wonderful, honey," my mom said. She tucked her phone back into her Louis Vuitton purse. "You're glowing."
My dad nodded, finally tearing his eyes away from the screen and giving me a moment of his attention. "Indeed, indeed. Prettier than you've ever been, kiddo."
Their words were like pouring a honey-sweetened vinegar over a dried-out sponge that had been left in the sun too long. My soul was parched for words like that from them, a husk I'd ignored for years out of necessity, but even if the initial moment they hit was sweet, the aftertaste was bitter.
Because I felt like a sell-out.
I felt like a whore.
Yet I replayed what they said, over and over, until I couldn't possibly forget these little snapshots of time.
For the remainder of the boat ride, I stayed quiet, because if I'd opened my mouth, I might have screamed. So loud and so long that it would've busted out the windows of the boat.
If I'd known what was waiting for us on the island when the boat docked, I probably would have, just to be able to prevent it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ava
"Nice hotel," Logan said as we walked through the lobby.
My mom fairly preened. "It's the best on the island, of course. Their outdoor event space has the best view of the sound, which is why Ashley is having her ceremony take place there."
"Unless it rains," my dad chimed in. There was an awkward beat of silence after his quite obvious statement. I glanced at my mom, who sighed.
"Yes, Alan, unless it rains." Her voice was even, but I almost laughed at how patronizing she sounded.
The plush carpet under our feet made our progress soundless. That alone made me feel like this whole thing might be a dream. Nightmare. Whatever. If a group of people walked through a hotel lobby and didn't make any sound, were they even there?
Just in case, I pinched the inside of my arm. Nope. Not asleep.
Our rooms were on different floors, thank goodness, because there was less of a risk that they'd see Logan leave in the morning, and see that he was quite healthy, despite whatever story I'd concoct.
For a brief window of time, while my parents went below deck to drive their rental car off the ferry, Logan and I were able to settle on a game plan. By that, I mean that I told him exactly what was going to happen.
He'd meet Ashley once she was done having dinner with Adam and his parents. She could ooh and aah and be green with jealousy, and then he and I would retire, claiming exhaustion from a long day at work. In the morning, he'd slip out of the hotel early and wait for the morning ferry. I would tell my family that he got sick overnight and had to go back, out of concern for me catching whatever he had.
Because my parents weren't stupid, he was going to wait in my room until it was late, then sneak into the room he'd booked for himself when he came up with this misguided excuse for chivalry.
With a quick sideways glance at his stoic profile, I had to admit that if I hadn't been so tied up in knots over how this weekend would play out, how the future would play out—so long as Matthew was in it—I might have been touched by what he was willing to do for me.
But unfortunately for Logan, the gesture was wasted. I just wanted him gone. I wanted him gone and on a boat and back in Seattle so I could breathe deeply again. Even walking next to him felt like some sort of betrayal even though I hadn't invited him.
That was the crux, wasn't it?
He hadn't touched me, not even in a casual way. He hadn't done anything inappropriate. He didn't need to. His being here and me allowing it was wrong. The closer we got to my room, the truer it became, until it was a dark, hulking entity creeping in the back of my head, haunting every other thought that tried to overtake it.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
"Ava," my mom said, and I realized she must have called my name more than once.
"Sorry, what?"
"Your sister said she'd be done in about twenty minutes. Do you two want to freshen up and meet us down in the bar?"
Liar.
Cheat.
Fake.
I must have nodded or something because she smiled. "Excellent." To my abject horror, she leaned in to kiss my cheek, whispering in my ear as she did. "Don't take too long, if you know what I mean."
"We won't," I promised her from the very depths of my soul. Easiest thing I'd ever told my mom.
They turned down the hallway of the ground floor, their matching suitcases rolling behind them silently. Logan exhaled, and I leaned forward to push the button on the elevator.
"I don't believe you have," I answered as politely as I could manage. Under the circumstances, I was proud of myself. Yes, in my job, I had to be capable of facing an erupting volcano of bad press and keep my cool, keep my message straight, and deliver it with authority. But those things were never personal.
This was as personal as it could get.
The car chugged up with a lurch, and we faced each other from opposite ends of the enclosed space. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, and for the first time, I noticed how tired he looked.
"I apologize, Ava." Logan shook his head. "I'm not sure what I was thinking."
After a beat of consideration, I lifted my hand and held it out to him. "Forgiven."
He took my hand with a smile, letting it drop after a firm shake. "I'm guessing you'll make me pay for this with interviews, right?"
"You don't even know how bad it's going to be for you."
We were both laughing when the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, and he took my suitcase for me while I fished the room key out of the paper envelope.
"This night cannot go fast enough," I said as I slid the card into the little black slot. The red light turned green, and I turned the handle, pushing the door open with an awkward lurch.
"I'll try not to be offended," Logan answered dryly.
When I walked into the room, I saw lights on around the corner, then squeaked in alarm when I saw the tips of someone's shoes. Someone's white tennis shoes. Just like in the ferry, I followed the line up, up, up. Dark jeans on long, thick legs, a solid color T-shirt over a broad chest, and a face that looked like it was carved from granite.
"Matthew," I breathed, a smile lighting my face before I saw the icy hardness in his normally warm eyes.
"Hawkins?" Logan asked. "What are you—" Then he stopped as if someone had pulled the plug on his vocal cords. "Oh," he drawled.
I took a step toward Matthew with my hands out. "Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you're here. This is insane. Logan was trying to help me and ..."
"And you forgot to tell me?" he asked, voice implacable. Then his eyes sliced to Logan. I swallowed nervously, seeing this seething, hissing rage hum under the surface of his skin. Where was my smiling Matthew? The Matthew who would wrap me in his arms and tell me everything would be okay?
"Matthew, hang on," Logan started. "I swear to you, this is not what it looks like."
"You expect me to believe that? Because trust me, I've heard a variation of that before in my life," he said quietly. Then he laughed a low, unamused sound. "This is her. Right?"
I looked back and forth between the two hulking men currently sucking up all the free oxygen in the room. It was the only explanation for why I couldn't breathe. "What are you talking about?"
Logan's face hardened. "I told you that in confidence, and I had no idea you were the guy. How could I have known?"
"Told him what in confidence?"
They ignored me.
Matthew took a step, and I felt the air around me pulse like a rogue wave, cold and icy and uncomfortable. "Leave, Ward. Now."
Logan hesitated, giving me a questioning look. But I didn't react. Couldn't react. My eyes went back to Matthew, and I wanted to burst into tears. This looked bad. It looked about as bad as anything could look to him. My hands pressed against my stomach. If I thought I had a pit before, it was bupkis compared to what was going on inside me. The whole time I'd felt it, the portent, the omen, the icky feeling, it was only a warm-up to this moment.
"I'm sorry," he said, then opened his mouth to say more but wisely snapped his jaw shut when Matthew narrowed his eyes dangerously.
He left the room, the door closing with a sharp snap, and I felt an icy flush of panic slide through my body when I realized I had no idea what to do with this Matthew. We'd never even come to close to irritation with each other, let alone real, justified anger.
"How-how did you get in here?" I asked quietly.
"Is that seriously the first thing you want to ask right now?" he asked right back. "Let's start with how long you've been lying to me? I like that question better."
My throat closed with hot embarrassment, my nose tingled when I searched for words.
"A little quicker, Ava," he bit out, color high in his face, "because it'll make me think you don't have a good story thought out."
I held his eyes and willed myself not to cry. "I've been caught off guard more than once tonight, and I'm really over the whole presumptuous male beating his chest and making decisions for me. You have a right to be upset right now, but don't be an asshole."
Matthew folded his arms over his chest and watched me impassively. If it weren't for the tightness in his hard-edged jawline and the slight flare in his nostrils, I would've thought he didn't care.
"Fine," he said tightly. "But please help me understand why my girlfriend just walked into a hotel room with another man because I'm not feeling all that charitable right now."
My stomach curled in on itself at how horrible it all looked, but I kept my chin up and held his eyes. "I didn't know Logan would be on the ferry. I swear to you, I didn't. And I would've made him turn right back around and go back if my parents hadn't been on the same one. They-they wanted to meet my boyfriend," I said helplessly.
He exhaled hard through his nose, a sharp nod lifting his chin. "And why would they think that was Logan?"
Matthew
She looked miserable. Tortured. On the razor edge of tears. But I steeled myself, locking every emotion tight and bolting it shut behind a thick wall of iron because the feeling of seeing her walk in the door with Logan right behind her and hearing a smile in her voice when the last thing I'd seen of her was not even close to smiling made me feel as if someone had reached down my throat and ripped my heart out in the blink of an eye.
Messy and brutal, but true.
It felt like betrayal. Had the smell, the feel, the metallic taste of it, the sticky residue all around me of deceit.
"B-because he came into my office the day Ashley showed up. The day you sent me flowers."
The day in her office, she'd been a wreck, but that was weeks earlier. Weeks. "And?"
Ava knit her hands together, but I could still see them vibrating even as her knuckles turned white from how tightly she was holding them together. "And I panicked because Ashley knew I was dating a player. Logan," she stumbled slightly over his name, and I had to fight the urge to rip something apart just to release some of the fiery, tumbling emotion inside me, "Logan walked in, and I panicked. I introduced him as my boyfriend so she'd drop it. The last thing I wanted was for her to take a sudden interest in the roster. I wasn't ready. We weren't ready."
I couldn't look at her.
I couldn't look at her without wanting to yell and scream and demand she explain herself in a way that didn't sound like she'd chosen to lie to me for weeks. The best weeks of my life. The happiest. The most settled. With her at the center, anchoring all that happiness into place.
"Why didn't you just tell me then?" I jabbed a finger in the air, and she flinched. "That's the part I'm missing."
"Because I thought that was it!" she burst out. "End of story, no big deal. I never had any intention of bringing Logan here because I couldn't stand the thought of being here with someone else if I couldn't be here with you. Even if my parents were suddenly falling over themselves to find out more about him."
I tipped my head back and battled the rising sensation, the clawing rage at her statement. Because I knew, I knew her parents were at the heart of this insanity. They had been from day one. When I looked back at her, those green eyes were glossy with tears, and it made me fight a different battle, resist a different urge. To hold her. Tell her it would be fine.
Because it wouldn't.
She was the first person that I thought would never lie to me. Not about something like this. No matter whether that was it. Or if she thought it was th
e end of the story.
It hadn't been.
She still didn't tell me.
"Then what?" I asked quietly, keeping my arms firmly over my chest.
"Logan offered to come with me, a-and I told him I was dating someone, and it was complicated, but I couldn't bring him with me." Ava took a step closer, and her spine straightened, her eyes cleared. "I wasn't going to bring him, Matthew. He showed up on his own, thinking he was going to help me, I don't know, some misguided white knight thing because he's got family issues of his own. I don't know," she said, visibly frustrated. "I can't read Logan's mind, but I didn't know he was coming. Ask him the next time you see him. I had no clue my parents would be on the same ferry with us. M-my dad had some last-minute surgery, and they had to bump their flights. Ask him! Once he was here, I figured that I would send him off to his own room later, and he was going to catch the ferry tomorrow morning. I'd tell my family he got sick, and you and I could deal with our own stuff down the road."
I nodded slowly, but inside, the rage inside me mushroomed into something else entirely. I knew why Logan showed up. He'd told me. She was the woman he had feelings for, the woman he knew was dating someone else, and he refused to let his shot pass.
What had he said to her?
How had he treated her?
Touched her?
Flirted with her?
Had she let him?
"Matthew, please, say something," she pleaded, taking a tentative step toward me. "Are you even hearing what I'm saying? Yes, it was stupid not to tell you, and I'm sorry, but it felt so little, so unimportant at the time."
My face was stone. My stomach was acid. My skin was on fire.
That was the thing no one told you about being lied to, about the little things, the things that added up, that snowballed, that grew and grew until that one white lie became a giant wall of ice. It should be cold. Feel cold.
But the slicing open of your pride was hot and fiery, a slow-burning trail of glowing orange magma that you couldn't stop, and it left a trail of ash behind that you could taste in your mouth for far longer than you wanted to.
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