by Amy Lynn
I quickly send the call to voicemail not wanting to deal with what awaited on the other end and shove the key into the ignition of the Audi.
And that’s when I see it.
I stare at the handle of the umbrella, the monogrammed initials “AK” making my blood run cold. I’ve seen those initials scrawled on a million forms that have graced my desk, and I know them well. My question: Why in the fuck was my wife in possession of Abram Kent’s umbrella?
My plan to attend church is long forgotten as rage overcomes me, and my mind begins flashing a million images of Ava with that fucker Abram Kent.
I’ve got to get out of here. First, there’s something I have to do. I leap from the car, grab the envelope from the kitchen island with Wifey written across the front, and throw that complete waste of fucking time into the trash.
Chapter 18
Ava
I wake Sunday morning with the sun warming my face as it beams brightly through the window. I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, so I lie beneath the plush blankets, the soft sheets gently caressing my exposed skin. I stretch, my back arched high, and arms extending wide until I brushed against something beside me.
Abe is next to me sound asleep. I don’t have a clue why he is there or at what point in the night he decided to join me, but as I looked at him lying atop the blankets, dressed as he had been the night before, his face soft and pleasant and his chest rising a falling with even breaths, I know I don’t care. Even in sleep, he is gorgeous. Married or not, I can’t deny that.
Very carefully, so I don’t wake him, I slip from the bed and into the bathroom. I brush my teeth with a new toothbrush I found in a drawer filled with them and splash my face with water. My hair isn’t looking the best, so I comb my fingers through it the best I can.
In the kitchen, I find the few ingredients I need, stirring up some pancake batter. It’s the least I can do after all Abe had done for me, including last night and really, since I met him.
“Enjoying your stay at Kent palace?” Abe’s sleepy voice rasps out behind me.
I smile when I turn to face him. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to stay.” Flipping the pancakes, I add, “Did I wake you?”
“Only with the smell of deliciousness.”
As I pour the rest of the batter into the heated skillet, Abe steals a pancake from the stack, folds it in half, and takes a hearty bite.
“You had nightmares last night.”
My heart begins to beat faster at Abe’s words. “I did?”
“Yeah, after the second one I didn’t want to leave you alone, so I thought I’d wait until it passed to make sure you were okay. I guess I fell asleep. I’m sorry if it seemed like I had invaded your privacy. I assure you, my intentions were genuine.”
I giggle to lighten the mood. “You worry too much, Abe. Everything’s fine.”
“Ava, I admit I don’t know much when it comes to women.” He holds up a finger to stop my words before I can interject and say something smart. “But I know damn well when a woman says things are fine, they most certainly are not. I know something is bothering you, and when you’re ready to talk about it, just know I’ll be here.”
I turn my attention back to the pancakes hoping to escape his penetrative glare. “As soon as I finish breakfast, I’ll be out of your hair,” I said to change the subject. Suddenly Abe is behind me, his breath stirring my hair with the softest brush of his lips against the tip my ear.
“Believe me princess, there’s nothing more I want than to keep you here at Kent Tower, but you have to go home. If you don’t, I might not ever let you leave.”
I feel weak and suddenly break out into a sweat. I don’t want to go home. I want to disappear here and forget my problems with Brad exist. If I’m being honest, I just want my husband back. Brad has made some really poor decisions and violated my trust in the worst way possible, but I couldn’t help but want us back. I’d forget everything if we could just go back to the way things were always meant to be. I know I didn’t do the right thing by storming out and leaving Brad instead of facing our problems, but what choice did he give? His drinking is out of control, and things have escalated and gotten physical between us twice now. We were on a one-way street, destination unknown. If we had any chance of survival, I had to get things under control.
I turn to face Abe, and he takes a tiny step back. I can’t help but notice his eyes are a blue so tranquil it’s almost hypnotizing. “Can I use your phone?”
“Of course. Use the one in my office. First door on the left.”
Abe’s office is beautifully decorated and very neat with the exception of a pile of paperwork that towers on the corner of his desk. Sitting down in the leather chair, I dial Caroline and wonder how long it will take her to ask me what I am doing calling her from Abram Kent’s home number.
Turns out about five seconds.
“I’ll explain later.Can Mitchell drive by my house and see if Brad’s home?” I was more curious than anything. And knowing what I was walking into gave me comfort.
“I’ll send him that way now,” Caroline agrees, her voice laced with concern.
“Thank you. Have Mitchell call me back to let me know, okay?”
“Sure. Is everything alright, Ava?” Caroline asks, trying to keep the worry from her voice.
“Yes. No need to worry,” I reply, knowing I’m not convincing her.
I cradle the phone and immediately start contemplating exactly how and what I was going to tell Caroline about last night. I knew she would want to know why I was at Abe’s house and what caused me to flee there in the first place. Shit. This wouldn’t be easy.
Caught up in my own thoughts when I rounded the desk, I accidentally bump a stack of paperwork. It teeters and I quickly manage to steady the stack, but not before losing the top file in my clumsiness, the contents littering the hardwood like confetti.
“Shit!”
I quickly begin picking up the sheets of paper and pause when I see a photograph. It is a surveillance type of photo, like one a private investigator would take, of a woman with her back to the camera entering a set of glass doors. After picking up a few more sheets, I come across another photo, a close up of the same woman as she is either removing her sunglasses or putting them on. She seems to be totally Abe’s type. Blonde, blue eyed, perfect bone structure, and simply stunning. Whether it’s a case that Abe’s working on or perhaps for his own personal use, it’s obvious that Abe is doing some surveillance on this woman. But why I wonder? Either way, I’m sure he had good reasons. Couldn’t blame any guy for trying to protect himself from embarrassment or perhaps heartache down the road. That’s just good sense.
While gathering the remaining papers and returning them neatly to the folder titled ‘JEM“, I see another photo has slipped beneath the desk. This time it’s a full-length photo of the woman. And she is very pregnant. She has that ‘glow’ that most women never know they have when they’re pregnant. Flawless skin, thick long blonde hair I’m sure was naturally quite beautiful but looked even more luscious with the extra benefits of prenatal vitamins, and a pink maternity sundress that showed of her perfectly round baby bump. She was absolutely radiant.
Was it wrong that I instantly felt envious of her?
I put the photo back inside the folder and placed it atop the others, straighten the stack, and leave the room.
Was I curious about this JEM situation? Hell yes. Especially when he disappeared for nearly a week not so long ago. But it wasn’t any of my business, and right now, I have my own shit to deal with.
Abe is sitting on the couch looking intently at his phone and smiles up at me when I sit down next to him.
“Everything good?” he asked
“Yeah,” I sigh heavily. “I guess it’s time for me to change, gather my things, and go home. Big work day tomorrow.”
“Ava, you’re not leaving here in that dress. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. Do you really want to put that brontosaurus of a thin
g back on?”
Now that he mentioned it, I didn’t.
Dammit, I hated he knew what I wanted even before I did.
Abe rose from the couch and walked past me returning a few seconds later with a pair of women’s black yoga pants and handed them to me.
“Abe, if you think I’m wearing your flavor of the month’s forgotten pants, you’re even dumber than I thought.”
Abe roars back with laughter, “Flavor of the month? Come on, Ava. You know I’d never drag it out that long.” He holds the pants out to me, and I look doubtfully from him back to the pants.
“Relax, cupcake. They’re a gift for my mother’s birthday next week. I’ll replace them tomorrow. It’s not a problem.”
“You got your mother yoga pants for her birthday?” I shake my head, “I think I just may be doing her a favor by taking them.”
Abe’s eyes widen in shock as he looks over the rim of his coffee mug, swallowing the last of its contents in one mouthful. “Watch it, little missy. Don’t make me take back my generosity.”
I grab the pants with a smile and pull them on right in front of him, rolling down the top waistband, as they are a little too big. “Thank you,” I say, as I situate Abe’s big shirt over my hips. “Thank you for everything.”
When I look up, Abe is watching me. His jaw flexing with a clouded, faraway look in his eyes as if he were somewhere else. Who knows, maybe he was. Suddenly, he blinks and just like that, the fogginess clears, and the blue hue within them returns looking even more beautiful and vibrant than before.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send you a bill for my services,” he says with a grin.
******
The house is lit with natural light that shines through the faceted arched windows, making a beautiful rainbow pattern across the hardwood floor as my heels clicked loudly by. I almost forgot I was wearing them. Heels with yoga pants? I shake my head just thinking of my ensemble. Jesus. I’m a real trend setter today.
My cell phone is on the island, and I light the screen to see if it’s still working, remembering how it fell and slid across the floor. It seems to be working with surprisingly no damage.
I worry about Brad and about how he must be feeling and decide to send him a text message. I’m scared to confront him and talk about what happened, but we would need to discuss it sometime, right?
I started and erased my text so many times not really knowing what to say, finally settling on keeping it short and simple.
I’m home. Can we talk?
I don’t know if I’ll hear back from him or not. I hope I will, but I had to be realistic. While I wait for Brad’s response, I decide it’s time to take a shower. I undress in front of the mirror and turn to see the bruise on my lower back still angry and more purple today. I gently touch it with my fingertips. The skin is expectedly tender, but surprisingly, it hurts a bit less than the day before.
Stepping into the shower, the warm water is a welcome relief to my tense and stressed muscles as I stand under the spray of water. I don’t realize just how tired I am until I’m standing here, rising steam enveloping me and relaxing me even further. I let out an exhausted sigh and enthusiastically lather and soap up my hair, eager to curl up in the confines of my bed and shut my eyes for a moment.
Wrapping my white silk robe around me, tying a knot at my waist, and my hair twisted in a towel, I slip beneath the blankets. My pillow smells like lavender with a tiny hint of jasmine, and as I inhale the sweet scent, my eyes slip closed.
I don’t even remember falling asleep.
I wake with a start, the sky glowing amber red beyond the windows as the sun is just beginning to set. I sit up and remove the damp towel from my head, my hair a tangled, snarled mess beneath. Well, combing through this should be super fun.
In the bathroom, I spray on a leave in conditioner, find a brush, and begin to work on the tangles. I’m nearly done when Brad enters the bedroom, his eyes landing on me immediately.
My brush stops midway, and all I can do is stare at him. I knew this moment of confrontation was coming, but yet, I still wasn’t prepared with what to say. Brad looks tired and…..angry?
Alarm rings in my ears, and I grip the handle of my hairbrush tightly. Deep breath….One step at a time…..
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hey.”
Brad walks close enough to touch me but doesn’t, and stops to lean his shoulder against the wall.
I wonder briefly if he has been drinking today and inhale deeply to see if I can smell alcohol or perhaps even cigarette smoke from the bar, but I can only smell the soap I used in the shower hours before.
Brad studies my face, looking into my eyes and holds my gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time. I bite my lip and look away, unsure of what exactly he is looking for.
“Are you scared of me, Ava?”
My eyes snap to Brad’s. I open my mouth to respond, but my words come out silently.
“It’s a simple yes or no question.”
But it isn’t. Is there really a right answer here? I grip the brush tighter, feeling like I would break it in two just by the pressure I apply to the handle. Brad’s eyes flash to the brush and back to my eyes.
“I never meant to hurt you.” He sounds apologetic, taking a small step towards me. When I remain still, he inches even closer. “Did I leave any marks?”
“Brad, please don’t….”
“Tell me.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
I turn my back to him and untie the belt of my robe letting the fabric fall down my arms until it reveals the purple patch of skin.
Brad inhales a breath and settles his hands on my hips gently, the heat from his palms warming my now cool skin. “How the fuck did I do this?” his whispered question comes out harshly.
I shake my head and peer over my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Ava, please tell me.”
He doesn’t remember?
Tears well in my eyes. “It was from the door handle….when you shoved me against the door.”
Brad sighs deeply. “I figured I left some marks on your shoulders…from where I grabbed you. Never did I expect…” His hands leave my body as he sinks to the floor behind me. He’s absolutely wrecked with what he’s done.
I quickly pull my robe around me and turn to face him. He’s sitting with his head against his forearms, propped on his elbows against his knees. “You should distance yourself from me. I’m no good for you, Ava. You deserve someone who…you deserve… better. A husband who doesn’t hurt you. Emotionally or physically. I’m…not the person you thought I was.”
“Brad,” I start to say, but he cuts me short.
“I do think you should visit your parents for a little while. I can’t keep doing this to you,” he adds, raising his head while running his fingers through his long waves.
With those words, my heart sinks. “I know I said I wanted to visit my parents last night, but I said it out of anger. You stood me up.” I shake my head tears pooling. “I felt abandoned. Especially after finding out you would rather spend it drinking at the bar than with me.”
“And I don’t see that changing. I’ll always be a disappointment to you.”
“Where is this coming from? What’s going on with you Brad? You haven’t been yourself in weeks. Whatever it is, we can get through it. Together.” I try to reach for him, but he shakes me off.
As he rises from the floor, he looks me in the eye and says, “No. We can’t. Can we just…not talk about this right now?”
I’m scared to push the subject any further and I nod a yes I certainly don’t mean. I knew when Brad was done discussing a subject. Our conversation was definitely over.
“One more thing, where did you go last night?” he asks, turning to face me.
Oh God…
“I…went to Caroline’s,” I say not wanting to hesitate too long.
Brad shakes his head refusing to meet my eyes and breathes out a laug
h. “That’s what I thought.”
His laugh not being a funny one, told me that he didn’t quite believe me. The lie had already been told, and there was no going back. It seems these days the truth and a lie held the same repercussions, and both were equally damaging to my already fragile marriage.
Chapter 19
Abram
I can’t help the smile I’m wearing Monday morning in Bradley Lauren’s presence. Yeah, it’s a dick move on my part, but each time his eyes meet mine, my smile grows wider. The fact his wife was inches from me, wearing my shirt, sleeping in my bed, seeking solace in my home, and he didn’t know a single fucking thing about it…well, that brought me so much fucking joy. It’s my little secret, and Brad knows all too well about those. Ava spending a little time with a friend isn’t even comparable to what Bradley Lauren is keeping from his wife.