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)
I walk to the door, and John moves out of my way, letting me pass. I stop on the threshold, looking back at Sarah. “Don’t ever do anything like that again, do you hear me?” It’s a low blow, but I know she’ll listen because now she knows I actually care. I just hope she doesn’t push me for more than my concern.
I leave and drop into the seat of my car, staring at the steering wheel, my fists balling, sending a shooting pain up the arm of my damaged fist. I look down at the fading blemishes and bruises. The fist that I damaged breaking free of a headboard to get to my wife because I thought she was choking. Because I care.
Taking my anger out on my Aston, I pull away fast.
My wife doesn’t care anymore.
She doesn’t care.
What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
13
Friday is a slow torture. I follow my usual routine: run, shower, dress, drive to Kate’s, follow Ava to work, sit in the café, wait.
But today I’m restraining anger too, trying and failing to push back the hurt. I got home last night and stewed. Walked circles around our empty penthouse, revisiting every moment that’s led me to now. I scrolled through the endless photos of Ava trying to convince myself I’ve got it wrong. She has to care.
But she obviously doesn’t.
Because if she did, I wouldn’t be without her right now.
Ava leaves the office at one o’clock and walks to the nearest Starbucks, getting a coffee—cappuccino, no chocolate, no sugar. She drinks it on her way back. She leaves work at six, and I follow her to Kate’s and sit outside, contemplating knocking the door. Confronting her. She’s hiding, and I’m enabling her to. She can’t expect this space for much longer.
I’m about to get out of my car and knock the door when I see Kate pull up. I breathe out my disbelief when Dan gets out her van too. What the hell? I take my hand off the handle and rest back in my seat, my plan obliterated. I can’t storm Kate’s flat with Ava’s brother there. It will be carnage. Does he know Ava’s living there? Does he know she’s left me?
I clench my fist and push it into the steering wheel, starting the engine and pulling away before I give in to the urge to throw my weight around. My phone rings before I’ve made it out of Kate’s street, and I stare at the unknown number. Unknown as in, there’s no name assigned to it. But I know who it is.
“Jesse Ward,” I say calmly, feeling anything but.
“Why’s my sister at Kate’s again?” he asks. No friendly hello, or how ya doin’ from my shiny new brother-in-law. Standard. My arms straighten against the wheel, my jaw rolling.
“Why the fuck are you at Kate’s?” I counter. I need to bang some fucking heads together around here. Mine and Ava’s included.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Likewise.” I hang up before I fire some abuse and give my wife another reason not to take me back. Not that she fucking wants me or cares.
“Fuck,” I yell, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly. I’ve had enough. We’re going to dinner, and we’re going to talk this out. She’s had her space. If she doesn’t know by now if she’ll forgive me, I think that’s my answer. Not that I’ll accept it, obviously. But I need to know when to pull out the big guns.
I get back to Lusso, shower, change into some dark jeans and a white shirt, brogues on, and head straight back out. Determined. I stride through the lobby, my laser focus directed straight ahead, a clear sign to the hot, new, young concierge not to bother talking to me.
He doesn’t.
Sam calls me when I’m on my way back to Kate’s and, naturally, I wonder if he’s done another drive-by and seen Dan there. “Hey,” I say, tentative.
“Coffee?” he asks. Coffee to discuss what Dan’s doing at Kate’s?
“I’m taking Ava out to dinner,” I say surely.
“Oh, that’s good.”
“She doesn’t know.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he breathes. “So you’re just going to show up?”
“Yep.”
“Good luck,” he quips. “How’s Sarah?”
She cares. “Broken.” I frown at my phone when I see an incoming call. “I’ve got to go, Jay’s calling me.” I hang up and take Jay’s call. “Have you finally found some more CCTV footage for me?” That’s one mystery still in need of clearing up. Who drugged Ava? Which also reminds me, Steve hasn’t called. Did Juliette even tell him? I huff. Probably not.
“No, it’s a dead end.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jay. So I’ll never know who drugged my wife?”
“Wife?”
“We got married last Saturday.”
He laughs. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“Then I’m even more surprised to see her here,” he goes on. “Did someone get you some chill pills for a wedding gift?”