“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