And then you’re going to live out the rest of your days only half-alive?
No. In time, whatever hold Ava has over me will weaken. Surely I can’t want a woman who has such contempt for me. I have more pride and self-respect than that.
Faye and I had great chemistry before. We can have it again if we’re willing to give it a chance. If she’s unhappy with our marriage after a year, we can always divorce—amicably and cleanly.
My finger hovers over her number. I should call, ask her to come over, wine and dine her, then propose. The ostentatious diamond and sapphire ring in my pants pocket pricks my leg as though to remind me of the Sunday agenda.
I’m about to hit the green button when there’s a knock at the door. Unusual…I have
n’t ordered anything…
I open the door and freeze.
Ava.
Her complexion is four shades paler than her platinum hair, except for cheeks that are so flushed she looks feverish. For a second I wonder if she’s sick, then I tell myself she can’t be. The hospital wouldn’t have discharged her.
She stares at me, her ice-blue eyes determined. The lines of her throat remain tense, and her hands are clasped together in front of her. Her fitted green jersey dress hangs a bit loosely on her frame. The dark circles under her eyes are still there underneath the careful layers of makeup.
Am I seeing things? I shake my head, but she’s still standing in front of me. I don’t get it. She should be resting. It was only Friday that she was at the hospital.
“Can I come in or are you…with someone?” she asks, her voice raspy and low.
For what? What is she doing here?
I drink in her jasmine and vanilla scent, her exquisite presence, and life stirs within me—my broken body a machine only she can fuel.
With sudden clarity, I realize her hold over me hasn’t weakened at all. Self-loathing floods through me, and my feeling for her borders on pure hatred. She’s done this to me…reduced me to this pathetic state. Or maybe it’s like my mother said over and over again. I’m just fucked up all on my own. Either way, I’m screwed.
Ava swallows. “Lucas?”
I should shut the door in her face. Tell her to go fuck herself.
But I can’t. My heart tells me to let her in and bask in the delirious sensation of being alive…being truly alive…
I’m an alcoholic who keeps relapsing, each time more painful than the one before. The key to handling it is going cold turkey and staying the hell away.
“Please.”
The soft whisper pierces the steel around my heart. I step aside so she can walk in. And the second she does, I let go of the door. It shuts, the lock engaging with a click.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ava
My hands are so clammy, I want to wipe them on my dress. But I don’t dare. They’re too shaky, and I don’t want to show him how nervous and unsure I am.
I still don’t know what I’d been planning when I called Elizabeth earlier today and asked her where Lucas was. She told me, but she didn’t offer any encouragement. Perverse woman. She could’ve spared a kind word, now that I’ve decided to follow her advice.
I tried so hard to convince myself I could move on—that I had moved on. But that’s a lie. My eyes trace the chiseled lines of his face and tall, strong body, my heart galloping like a thoroughbred at a race.
His expression is shuttered. “Why are you here, Ava? Most people avoid toxic waste.”
I wince. He’ll never forgive me for that…will he? He’s going to throw me out the second I tell him what I’m here to say.
“I didn’t give you the five minutes you were entitled to,” I blurt out.
If possible, he seems to grow even remoter. “I don’t want them anymore.”