Total pages in book: 235
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 227851 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1139(@200wpm)___ 911(@250wpm)___ 760(@300wpm)
“You didn’t know about my history then.”
“I do now.”
I flinch. “I know.”
“Stop saying you know,” she cries, gesturing wildly with her hands.
“What do you want me to say?” I ask without looking at her. I’ll say anything. And then I realize I haven’t even apologized. Will it make a difference? Or begged, I’ve not begged for her forgiveness. “I’m . . .” I look up, seeing her disappear into the dressing room.
I hurry over, my heart crawling up my throat. Why would she go into the dressing room? I stop in the doorway, seeing her yanking some jeans on. What? Oh my God, no. She’s not— “What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes watching her every move as she dresses. Then she gets a bag. “Ava?” I say, my words airy and weak. I go to her, taking the bag. “What the hell are you doing? You’re not leaving me.”
“I need some space,” she says with no emotion at all, snatching the bag back and starting to pack it fast and messily.
Space. “Space for what?” I grab her arm, my panic ruling me. “Ava, please.”
She wrenches herself away, and my heart splits. She’s leaving me? “Please what?” she asks coldly as she takes her anger out on her clothes.
“Please, Ava,” I beg. “Don’t go.” What will I do without her? What will happen? How will I cope?
“I’m going.” She pushes past me, and I reach to grab her again, to stop her, but I’m so worried she’ll fight me and injure herself. She’s not thinking straight. I follow her to the bathroom, searching for the words I need to save this, to save us. I’m coming up blank. My fear is too strong. I can see nothing past it.
She stuffs some toiletries into her bag.
“Ava, let’s talk about this.”
“Talk?” She turns abruptly, her eyes still wild, her persona still so volatile.
“Please.”
“What is there to talk about?” she asks. “You’ve done the most underhanded thing possible. Nothing you could say will make me understand this. You do not get to make these decisions. You do not get to control me to this extent. This is my life!”
Nothing I can say will help? But she’s not even given me a chance. “But you knew I was taking them,” I whisper.
“Yes, I did!” she cries, obviously not quite believing it. I’m stumped. I know I’ve done wrong, but I also knew she knew, and I took the fact that she knew and hadn’t left me as a good thing. How could I have got it so wrong? “But perhaps because of all the other shit you’ve landed on me since I’ve met you,” she goes on, breathless. “I didn’t consider how fucked up this really is. This is really fucked up, Jesse, and you’ve got no redeeming reason. Wanting to keep me isn’t good enough. That’s not a decision you get to make on your own. What about me?” She gets up in my face, making me retreat. “What about what I want?”
“But I love you,” I say quietly, pathetically. I never thought about what Ava wants. I only thought about what could save me. Her. A baby. A family.
A wife, happiness, forgiveness, mercy.
If anything, I saw all the signs that she didn’t want kids. And I ignored them. I convinced myself she’d accept this because she loves me.
What have I done?
Ava rubs at her eyes, pushes her hair off her face, sniffs, and storms away.
“Ava?” I call, going after her, getting a flurry of flashbacks invading my mind. The last time I chased her through the penthouse. Or tried to. I could hardly walk, the vodka fucking me over. I can’t go back to those places. No. “Ava, stay, please, I’ll do anything.” I race down the stairs, two at a time, forced to hold my limp dick against my thigh as I go. I look up as I reach the bottom, seeing her hand on the doorknob ready to open it. I pick up my pace, wondering what the fuck I’m going to do when I get to her. Force her back upstairs? Manhandle her? Yes, I’ve done it before, but this is different. There is absolutely no element of fun here, which has always seen me through those moments of conflict. This is serious. More than serious. She’s leaving me.
I skid to a stop, just as Ava faces me, the door open. “You’ll do anything?” she asks, her face painfully stoic.
“Yes.” Shut the door, please shut the door. “You know that.”
“Then you’ll give me some space.” She backs out, the door closes, and I stare at the wood, shocked into stillness.
And that’s where I stay, a frozen form of a broken man, for an age.
She’s gone.
“Gone,” I whisper, instantly numb. But in so much fucking pain. I push a hand through my hair, my eyes burning, remaining on the door. The sound of my phone ringing in the distance is what eventually pulls me from my inertness. I don’t rush to answer it, letting it ring off. It won’t be Ava. I drag my heavy gaze across the penthouse, listening to the screaming silence, seeing the empty space. “What now?” I ask myself. I look down at my naked body and rub roughly at my eyes.