by Amy Lynn
I run my thumb down her cheek. “I know it’s not exactly what you wanted, but I enjoyed every minute of that with you.”
Her eyes light and her cheeks pink. “You did?” she says, excitement lacing her voice.
One step forward. “Yes. More than I ever thought I would.” The air is heavy between us, my earlier fuck-ups not yet forgotten. “You cooked for me.”
She nodded. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Because I’m a dick? “I’m sorry about…everything,” I say. I knew it was a piss poor apology, but it’s all I had right now.
She threads her fingers through mine. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re home.”
Two steps forward. I squeeze her hand tight, thankful she forgives me so easily even though I know I don’t deserve it. “Hungry?” I ask.
“Starved,” she answers.
Seated opposite of each other at the dining room table, we eat lasagna in our robes. Ava looks like an angel in her white silk robe, her hair combed and hanging loosely around her shoulders. Her eyes a vivid green, her cheeks a rosy pink, her lips perfect and full as she licks marinara sauce from the corner. Damn, she’s so beautiful. I force myself to look away before she catches me staring, “So,” I say shifting my thoughts. “How was your last day at work?”
She meets my eyes. “Well, turns out it wasn’t my last day after all. Andrea quit to stay at home with the baby, and Mia offered me the position permanently. Isn’t that great?”
And just like that, I take three steps back. “That is great,” I said even though I didn’t mean a single word of it. I quickly met her eyes to see if she could tell that I had just lied through my teeth, but when she smiled back, I knew I had slipped under her radar.
I didn’t know if I would be able to handle Ava working with Abe all day, but she really loved this job. She’s never given me a reason not to trust her, so I needed to at least attempt to be a supportive husband. Like it or not.
Chapter 8
Abram
I find her digits on a crumpled napkin beneath a stack of magazines on the glass coffee table. I dial the number and wait for her to answer, glancing back quickly to see if she had written her name. She didn’t, but in a few minutes, I would no longer have a reason to know it. Heidi maybe?
“Hello,” she answers with a purr.
I avoid all greeting. “Abram Kent.”
“We still on for tonight?”
“No,” I answer shortly. “We aren’t.”
“What?” she exclaims, her voice lit with surprise. “Why?”
“Because you’re fucking someone else.”
“I….How—”
“Save it.” I cut her off. “It’s rule number one. I don’t share. Ever.”
“I’ll end it with him.”
“Rule number two, I never entertain sloppy seconds. So don’t bother.”
Her protests are loud as I cradle the receiver. But it doesn’t matter. I’m done.
Grasping the hem of my t-shirt, I pull the sweat soaked fabric over my head. After today’s workout, I needed a shower in the worst way. After court this morning and the board meeting my father asked me to attend with Brad fucking Lauren sitting only a foot away, well, I kind of needed to punch the shit out something. And it felt fucking fantastic.
Wadding up the damp shirt like a basketball, I launched it though the air from the hallway towards the laundry basket in the bedroom. “He shoots,” I say to absolutely no one as the smelly fabric sails through the air. “And he scores!” Don’t I always?
I’ve implemented the night shift tonight and every other day this week, and as much as I hated working at night, it had to be done. I couldn’t see Ava. Not now. My only option for now was to distance myself from her. Besides, today was Ava’s last day working for Mia, and Monday I could join the rest of society during daylight hours. Life as I knew it would return to normal. Well, Abram Kent normal.
I dressed casually since I would be alone at the office at this time of night and decided to grab something from the Corner Bistro for dinner. It’s my usual lunch pick throughout the week, so it seems only logical. It’s also where I get Ava’s lattes.
I nodded a hello to the cleaning crew that was polishing the marble floor as I entered my office building, my hands busy with my lackluster dinner and tonight’s work, both looking equally surprised to see me strolling in instead of out.
Most likely, I could have worked from home tonight, but I draw better focus when I’m at the office. At home, I get distracted with sports and the company of women. Both are satisfying however do absolutely nothing to benefit my career.
When I stepped off the elevator and onto the twelfth floor, I could still smell Ava’s perfume lingering in the air. I stopped to stare at her desk, imagining how she must have looked on her last day of work. An image of her materialized in my mind without effort looking utterly gorgeous. I fucking hate myself for not saying goodbye to her.
I set my briefcase down, knowing I most likely wouldn’t’t get any work done with her swirling around in my head, and placed my sandwich on my desk no longer feeling hungry, even though I was starving just moments ago.
Falling into my chair, I blow out my caged anger.You can’t tell her.Even though I wanted to do precisely that. It will hurt her. Which is why I won’t.
Shuffling through a few notes that Ross had put on my desk, I stop at the one that says:
Talk to Ava. She’s worried about you.
I stare so long at Ross’s handwriting without blinking that the words start to blur together. If Ross could throw a punch, he’d just thrown me a pretty big one.
Ross and I had an agreement that as my intern, my private life was strictly prohibited. He knows I live a…active lifestyle, that I am always unattached, and there is never an appropriate time to discuss my personal life. Ever. So I wondered what Ava had said to prompt Ross to leave me a note. Had Ava asked him to do so or was he just plain stupid? Either way, you can bet your sweet ass, I’d find out.
Running my fingers through my hair in frustration, I unintentionally glance at Ava’s desk and see her disappear into Mia’s office with a stack of files. Great. Now I’m hallucinating.
My eyes are fixed to Mia’s door, waiting, hoping for her to walk back through, despite the fact that her day ended nearly an hour and a half ago. And there she is. Every sweet inch of her.
She’s wearing all black, and her hair is up exposing her lovely cheekbones and the gentle curve of her neck. A few loose curls have escaped, and they float around her like a halo when she walks. She is so beautiful. Far more beautiful than she realizes.
Her expression is sorrowful, and I wonder briefly if she knows what I have been trying to keep from her. Part of me hopes that she does.
Opening the bottom drawer, Ava grabs her handbag, pulls a set of keys from within, and walks over to shut and lock Mia’s door. Shit. She’s leaving.
I found it hard to believe that she was oblivious to the fact that I was here. So was she just going to leave without even so much as a simple goodbye? Hell, maybe she was ignoring me the way I had ignored her. I deserve that.
I walk to my open doorway, pause, and watch her walk away. Don’t let her leave without saying goodbye. You owe her that much. Say something you fool!
She’s almost to the elevator when I call out to her.
My voice stops her cold. “Yes” she answers as if I have asked her a question.
Shit! Now what? “What are you doing here? It’s….late,” I ask, more anger in my voice than I intended. Dammit. Get a hold of yourself, Kent.
She doesn’t answer me for a moment, and I feared she wouldn’t. “I had to finalize a few things for Mia,” she finally says.
Something is wrong. She has yet to face me, her back is rigid, her voice fragile, and her shoulders rise and fall with each breath she takes.
“What’s the matter?” I ask as I stand behind her, hoping she will tell me.
“Nothing,” she says. “I’m fine.”
The word “fine” said by any woman I have ever known means anything but. She’s lying, and I call her on it. “Look at me.”
She doesn’t. And I don’t need to see what I already know.
She’s crying.
I need to see her face. I need to see if what I have been keeping from her is written in her soft features. And because I missed her.
Walking around her side, my suspicions are confirmed as the wetness on her cheek glistens just as another tear tumbles down her cheek. It’s far too much for me to bear, and I lock my arms around her nearly lifting her feet from the ground. She softens against me, and I rest my head on top of hers as her tears dampen my shirt.
She knows. She must. There is no other explanation. “Tell me,” I ask as I rub circles on her back.
I needed to hear her say it.
She sniffles, “Brad’s mad, and you’re avoiding me.”
I stiffened at the mention of Brad’s name and tightened my grip around her. He was mad? At her? What the fuck for? “You think I’m avoiding you?” I ask focusing on the part about me.
“Aren’t you?” she asks and pulls away to meet my eyes.
Lie. You don’t have confirmation that she knows. “No,” I say shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans.
“Then where have you been all week?”
She’s got you by the balls here man. “I’ve just….been busy.”
She studies me for a moment, and I hope that she doesn’t press the issue. I don’t have any more answers.
Chapter 9
Ava
It’s been one week today since Brad surprised me in the shower, and he hasn’t touched me since. I had hoped that if he ever gathered the courage to try, he wouldn’t once regret it. But I was mistaken.
Brad has kissed me goodbye on the cheek every morning and ate dinner with me every night, but he couldn’t be further away. Tonight he sits across from me at our dining room table¸ silent, his phone next to him as if he’s waiting on an important call, eyes looking anywhere but at me.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“Fine.” The word slips out fast and rehearsed from his lips. He is cold, distracted and…..unhappy. A pattern that has remained consistent since last week.
I needed a break. I needed estrogen and ice cream. I needed Caroline.
“Do you remember the tourism project that Caroline had asked me to be a part of?”
“Vaguely.” He met my eyes. “Why?”
Wow. Okay, at least he was honest. I guess that’s what I get for mentioning it while he’s wrapped up in a Mad Men marathon. “I’m meeting her in an hour or so. She wants to get the project started, figure out our direction, and set a plan. I won’t be long.”
His jaw flexed. “Mind if I drive you?”
What the hell? “Oh, you don’t have--”
“I insist,” he interrupted.
After texting Caroline a quick message that I was on my way to see her, I changed into a pair of dark jeans, a long sleeved tee, and wrapped an infinity scarf around my neck. Being mid-October, the days were comfortably cool, but the nights were another story. With my tall riding boots on and a jacket draped over my arm, I bounded downstairs to a waiting Brad.
“Ready?” he asked, eyes briefly raking over me.
I nodded a yes as I passed by him, and he caught me by the wrist. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.”
“You’d tell me if it wasn’t? Work? Anything?”
“Of course.”
Rubbing his hand across the stubble on his chin, he reluctantly nodded and escorted me to the car.
Brad was never the open the door, stand when your woman leaves the table kind of guy, but he cared for me in his own way. He knew something was bothering me. I just hoped he didn’t know he was the reason.
The car ride was quiet, the soft tunes from the radio filling the air.
“You remember this song?” Brad asked as we slowed to stop at a red light.
I listened for a moment, the track unmistakable, as Angel by Aerosmith beat softly through the speakers. “How could I forget the first song we ever slow danced to?” I asked.
Brad’s profile was lit by the dash lights. His sandy blonde hair longer than usual had started to curl at the ends, and his eyes remained locked onto the road despite the fact that we had stopped. I looked out my window unable to shake the feeling that something was terribly off between us.
“One look from you was all it took,” Brad said barely above a whisper. “My love for you was instant.”
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I sucked in a breath. That was the first time Brad had ever admitted that fact, and I wondered why he had chosen now to reveal it. Just as I was about to tell him that I loved him, he reached down and turned the station, forever freezing the words on my lips.
We arrived at Caroline’s soon after, and I hesitated before exiting the car, giving him the opportunity to say something. Anything. When he didn’t, I said, “Mitchell will bring me home. I’m not sure how long I will be.”
He nodded, “Alright.”
“Brad, I just want to say--”
“Just get out,” Brad interrupted.
My mouth fell open, shocked.
He met my eyes. “Caroline is waiting for you,” he said. “Just go.”
I got out slowly, hoping he would apologize for being so rude. As I stood outside the car, my hand against the cool steel of the door, Brad pulled away without so much as another word. I forced myself towards the front door where Caroline was standing in the open doorway, her smile fading with just one look at me.
“Ava dear,” she wrapped me in a hug and placed a kiss to my cheek. “Let me grab the Cherry Garcia. Then we’ll talk.”
Caroline pulled two-pint size containers of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer, grabbed two spoons from the nearby drawer, and sat down on the stool next to me.
We each removed our lids and took a bite before we spoke a word.
“So, you want to talk about it?” Caroline asked.
“I would if I actually knew what the problem was,” I said as I took another bite. “Brad’s just been different lately.”
“Stress at work maybe?”
I can’t tell her about the last time we had sex, and how I think he regrets what we had done. It’s just too embarrassing. “Work maybe,” I agree, nodding. “And I don’t think he likes me working with Abe.”
Caroline smiles at me. “Jealousy in a relationship can be a good thing.”
“True. But Abe takes it to a whole other level.”
“Doesn’t he with everything?”
I felt my cheeks pink at that thought, knowing that Abram Kent didn’t half ass anything and shrugged. “How would I know?”
“You know Abe has asked to be a part of the tourism campaign, right?” she answers with a nod and a wink.
“He has? Why would he do that?”
Caroline rolls her eyes at me. There was more that she wasn’t saying. I reach over and take away her ice cream.
“Hey!” she protests, grabbing at the open container and spoon.
“Spill it, Caroline, and I’ll give it back.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Alright. If you must know, I suspect it has something to do with you being involved with the cause. After all, I asked him a year ago if he would consider working with me on the project, and he wasn’t interested in the least. You get involved, and two days later he‘s suddenly had a change of heart.”
Paul enters the kitchen and took one look at the Cherry Garcia, and asks, “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Caroline and I look at Paul and say in unison.
He kisses us both on the temple, grabs a water from the fridge, and leaves as quickly as he came. Paul was book smart and had an ‘MD’ behind his last name to prove it, but he was also no dummy when it came to common sense. He saw the warning signs of two women sitting with comfort food and was getting the hell out before he was caug
ht in the crossfire.
“Look,” Caroline says the moment Paul is out of sight, “All I’m
saying is that Abe was suddenly available to assist with the project after you signed on. I’ve tried to get him to participate for years because rich ladies will follow him anywhere with their pocketbooks open, but he always insists he’s too busy. Suddenly you sign on and his schedule opens up? It may very well be nothing more than sheer coincidence. But I doubt it.”