Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sun was coasting on its downward descent when Avery settled onto a stone bench in the Palace of Fine Arts. People milled about, some taking pictures of the architecture, others simply strolling around the grounds that arched along the edge of the man-made lagoon.
She closed her eyes, inhaled. The scent of life mingled with the mucky decay of rot in a subtle reminder that the world went on, revolving, changing, adapting.
A single tear escaped to slide down her cheek. She let it flow, tracking its path until it reached her jaw. She brushed it away with a quick swipe of her hand. Tears never solved anything, but they sure as hell relieved the pressure that’d been trapped inside her all day.
Another tear escaped, and she let this one fall too. What harm would it do?
She glanced around, her anonymity both freeing and isolating.
A toddler squatted on a rock near the water, his happy cry echoing over to her. His mother hovered behind him, her own smile tender.
No one stared at Avery. She was simply one in hundreds—thousands—today. She’d spent the day wandering the pier in a daze. Being lost among many had brought her problems into perspective. In the broad scheme of things, her issues were pretty minor.
But damn did they hurt.
She squeezed her eyes closed, swallowed. The throbbing pain in her chest had dulled to a sore ache. Carson’s betrayal had cut deep, but her day of roaming had brought the scope down to size. Like always, time and perspective had eased the shock and allowed other thoughts to temper her emotions.
She sniffed and wiped the tears away—again. They’d been on a slow drain for the last hour, leaking out of her eyes with no rush. She’d waited for the downpour, only none had come. Not all day. She’d been a numb mass until she’d strolled by the little shop in Ghirardelli Square, the one she’d explored with Carson. Had it only been last weekend?
It felt like years ago.
He’d laughed when she’d admired the little sculpted pig set among a collection of animal carvings. It’d been cute, with its upturned nose and tiny curled tail. Trivial and meaningless, but that’d been part of its attractiveness.
She dug the little sculpture from her purse and held it in the palm of her hand. Why had she bought it today?
Because it reminded her of Carson.
Her laugh was wry and sarcastic. He wasn’t dead, for God’s sake.
Maybe she could use it like a voodoo doll and carve little cuts into it. Her bubble of laughter bordered on loony now. She couldn’t do that to the pig.
She curled her hand around the carving and dropped her head back. What was she going to do? She’d outlined a dozen different options over the course of the day, but she had no idea which one to take.
Did she—could she—go into work tomorrow? Her chest pinched, her air choking off at the thought of facing Gregory. He knew about her sexcapades. And Trevor. God. Her face warmed, the embarrassment grounding in deep. What did he think of her?
Logically, she knew they were a part of the same group, but they were men. The standard and expectations were different for women. It didn’t matter what people said, they simply were. And women didn’t fuck around. They didn’t partake in sex games. Not without gaining a reputation.
A bad one.
Her mother would be so disappointed in her. And she couldn’t even think about what her father would say.
She snorted at her own dramatics. This was just one of many, many things her parents would never know about her.
She had believed only a very limited few would know about her sex life.
And her naïvety was showing again.
But the truth was very few did. Unfortunately, those few included people she knew. Ones she respected and who were her superiors—at work.
Work. She squeezed her eyes closed again. The mortification only lasted a moment this time. It’d lessened over the day, just like her anger. She wanted to blame Carson for everything, but her sense of moral correctness wouldn’t allow her to do so.
Fucking morals.
She sniffed, swallowed. The pig dug into her palm. She returned it to her purse and tugged the last tissue from the little travel packet she’d bought at the dollar store that day.
Part of being an adult was accepting when she was at fault. That included owning the outcome. She’d entered the Boardroom willingly. She’d wanted to experience the decadence and the implicated depravity. She’d locked on the blinders and followed her desire instead of her logic.
And it’d been so damn good.
But now she had to live with the aftermath, and that included owning her part in the fallout. Yes, Carson should’ve told her everything. And she should’ve asked more questions. She definitely should’ve thought about it more.
And if she had, she never would’ve experienced the crazy, freeing rush of letting go. Of passion as she’d only dreamed about.
Or Carson.
Her head fell forward, hand clenching around the now soggy tissue. Another stab of pain radiated from her heart, but the ache faded as it rippled past her stomach and trickled down her limbs. Her nerve endings had numbed out hours ago, along with her emotions.
Logic prevailed now, and that rarely failed her. There were questions to ask, decisions to be made, actions to take.
She sucked in a long breath, held it. She pulled her shoulders back, forcing a confidence that wasn’t there. But there were things to be done.
One, she wanted access to that app, and that meant contacting either Carson or Trevor. Second, she had to decide if her self-imposed shame was worth sacrificing her job for. Third, she needed to face Carson—at some point.
And in order for any of those things to happen, she had to get her ass off this bench and go home. But what if Carson was there waiting? What if he wasn’t? She snorted at her conflicting wants.
If he was there, it meant she mattered enough for him to hunt her down. But was she ready to talk to him? And if he wasn’t there, did that mean he didn’t care? Or if he was there, was it only to minimize the damage to the company and the Boardroom? Like she was going to retaliate against either of them. She didn’t think that way, and she hoped he knew that by now.
No matter how she spun it, the entire situation was a mess.
A duck squawked madly, setting off a chorus of angry quacks from the gathered cluster that sent a group of young tourists scrambling from the edge of the lagoon. Laughter and squeals followed the girls’ flight from the attacking ducks until the animals backed off.
A smile pulled on Avery’s mouth as she watched the antics. The world kept spinning no matter what happened.
She heaved a sigh and pulled her phone from her purse. The temperature was dropping with the sun, and she shivered at the growing chill. She’d have to move soon.
She stared at the phone screen as it went through its restart process. She’d turned it off after the first call and text from Gregory. Even at that time, when the betrayal had been fresh and ugly, she’d still felt guilty over leaving for the day. And she resented that too.
Stupid, damn morals. Don’t be in the wrong. Apologize for your behavior. Expect the best of others. Be kind. Be nice. Be quiet. Be, be, be...
When was it okay to be mad? To speak out? To demand better?
To be herself?
Now. Now would be a good time for that.
She typed in her password and sucked in a breath at the screen full of missed messages. She scrolled to the bottom and started reading from there. Her pulse pounded in her head, skin heating as she read through each text. Ones from Gregory, Karen, Tam and Carson. Apologies, inquiries, concern, worry—they were all there.
A laugh broke free at Karen’s last text, her frustration apparent even without the line of angry emoticons. Avery’s missing-in-action stunt was getting old, according to her roommate.
And she was right.
Her sigh was weighted with resignation. It was time to reengage.
She called Karen first. Her hand tightened around her phone as it rang.
“Avery!” Relief sprang from that single word, as did the condemnation for making Karen worry. “Are you okay? Where are you?”
A wobbly smile broke out at the love that stretched through the line to embrace her. “I’m okay.” She squeezed her eyes closed to hold back the fresh wave of tears prickling up her throat.
“Thank God.” Karen’s sigh gusted through the phone. “I was so worried about you.”
She swallowed, and forced her words out. “Thank you. I’m a...” She was what? “I had to think.”
“What’s going on?”
Everything? Nothing? “What do you know?”
“Carson was waiting outside our building when I got home.” Avery’s stomach flipped, even though she’d read that in her texts. “He looked wrecked. He said he needed to talk to you. But I didn’t let him upstairs.”
“Thank you,” Avery said softly. At least he wasn’t camped out within her home.
“Are you kidding me?” Karen scoffed. “Something was obviously wrong, and there was no way I was letting him in until I knew you were okay.”
Avery swallowed hard and tried to speak around her gratefulness, but the words stuck in her throat. What could she say?
“Hey,” Karen prodded. “Are you really okay? What can I do?”
A long, slow exhale calmed her and brought a sense of focus back. Her smile was weak when she thought about how to answer. “I’m...working through it.”
“What?”
The hurt. The sense of betrayal. The embarrassment. The shame. The self-inflicted condemnations. “I found something out today,” she said instead. “I needed some space to process it.”
“Did he cheat on you?” Her indignation put another smile on Avery’s face. God, she loved her.
“No. At least not that I know of. But we never discussed exclusivity.” She thought it’d been implied, but then a lot of her thoughts had been proven wrong.
“Are you pregnant?”
A harsh snort jerked out. “No!”
God, no. She winced. But she could’ve been. Maybe. She’d been reckless with Carson, in so many ways. But Karen’s question put things in perspective. Nothing in her life had changed, not really. Not unless she made this into something it most likely wasn’t.
A horn blared in the distance, but Avery barely registered it as it blended into the backdrop of urban living. It was just another component of the vibrancy that fed the concrete energy. It hummed around her even here, now, when she felt so damn alone.
“Do you want me to come to you?” Karen asked.
Avery could picture her already heading for the door, determined to help. Another wave of gratefulness rushed up to ease the ache in her chest. “No,” she quickly answered. “I’m coming home. Do you know if Carson is still outside?”
“Just a second.” There was rustling on the other end. One of Avery’s cats meowed in protest, which pulled a faint laugh from her. Were her cats perched in the window waiting for her to come home? “I can’t see him from here, but I can run down and check.”
“No,” she said again. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. But thank you.” She couldn’t hide forever.
“If you’re trying to ease my worry, it’s not working,” Karen said, sarcasm heavy.
Avery released a dry chuckle followed by a low groan. “Sorry.” She rubbed her temple and tried to dislodge the knot of guilt pounding behind it. “I promise I’ll be home soon.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
She ended the call after asking Karen to feed the cats, which she’d already done. Avery stared at her phone, thoughts flailing in protest over her next action. Her pulse started that insistent beating that tapped out her nerves and heated her skin. She didn’t want to call Carson, but she had to.
She owed this to herself.