Chapter Twenty-Five

Ava

When I float into the office on Monday, everyone asks me how I’m feeling. I answer honestly—fantastic—because nothing can possibly mar my day. The sun is brighter, the air’s cleaner and even the industrial carpet on the floor somehow looks luxurious. My new and pricey Dior feels like a billion bucks, but even if I were in a potato sack I’d feel like at least a million.

I place my purse on my seat, boot my laptop, grab a legal pad and pen and walk down to Robbie’s office. He’s already in, seated behind his desk. He drops his phone on it as I close the door behind me.

It’s hard not to gasp at how awful he looks. His eyes have sunk—a pair of dark craters on a sallow face. His hair seems thinner, and the lines that run from the sides of his nose to the corners of his mouth have deepened into valleys. His shirt collar is undone, and his slacks are wrinkled enough that I wonder if he slept in them.

“Are you all right?” I ask.

“Yeah.” He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I wanted to brief you on the week’s agenda.”

“Can you just leave it on the desk or email it to me?”

“Sure.” I bite my lower lip. “Is it Jay?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Anything I can do?”

“Just your job, Ava.” He swallows, then smiles wanly. “That’s all.”

“Okay.” Whatever happened over the weekend must’ve been hell for him.

I keep my head down and get caught up on stuff from Friday. I have an email from Darcy with the details of their flight to L.A. She, Ray and Mia are landing on Wednesday because that was the only thing they could grab on short notice.

I can’t wait to see you, Ava.

I smile and respond, Likewise! I have so many things to tell you. Give Ray and Mia my love. I could’ve told her about me and Lucas in the email, but I’d rather do that in person, with Ray present as well.

After I send the week’s agenda to Robbie, I get a text from Lucas.

Started condo searching. Found a few promising candidates. Photos attached. What do you think?

I scroll down and study them. They all look lovely—large and airy and expensive. I click on one of the links leading me to the listing page, and my jaw drops at the rental price. It’s more than what people on my floor make in months!

The frugal part of me wants to tell Lucas we can live where he is, but there’s no way I can be comfortable with Blake around. He can deny his cruel comments all he wants, but I haven’t forgotten. Besides, he’s too cold and nasty.

I reply: They all look great, but should we spend so much on a place? And do we need so much space?

They aren’t that expensive, he responds. I wanted something closer to the medical center but also relatively central and convenient.

I shake my head. I suppose to a guy with over billion dollars in his bank account it’s all par for the course, but I can’t be that casual about it.

A moment later, another text comes. If you don’t like any of them, say so. I don’t mind making the agent work for her commission.

I snort a laugh. I can imagine him ordering the poor realtor around. It’s not her fault that I grew up poor and became a cheapskate. I like them all, just not the price.

I won’t ask you to chip in for rent, although I insist we share a bed. Does that take care of your objection?

This time I let myself giggle. Okay. You made me an offer I can’t refuse.

Perfect. We can see the one you like the most after work if you can get away a little early. And then we’re having dinner with my brother Elliot. He invited us.

Elliot. The twin. My only encounter with him was at the hospital two years ago when he looked at me speculatively—Blake was the one who handled the opportunistic gold-digger stuff—and I hesitate. Do I want to spend that much time with Elliot?

On the other hand, I was upset when Lucas kept me away from his family like a dirty secret. He’s trying to show to the world we’re together, and I can meet him halfway. If Elliot turns out to be a jerk, well, we don’t have to hang out with him again. Sure. 4 good? I type.

I’ll pick you up at work.

I have my car here.

Still picking you up. I’ll take care of your car.

During lunch break—I take mine early, since I’m starving after a sad, one-granola-bar breakfast—I grab a sandwich and a bottle of pink lemonade from the cafeteria and eat at my desk while checking Facebook for a private message from Bennie. We try to keep in touch as much as we can, even though we’re on separate continents. No matter the distance, he is my best friend.

A message is waiting: I have no idea what to wear in England.

I thought the trip wasn’t until later.

Within a minute, he responds. You don’t get it, Ava. It’s his parents. They’re like aristocrats! I have to make a good impression.

I smile. I can’t remember the last time Bennie cared about stuff like this. And I love it, because it means he isn’t thinking short-term with Drew…and a guy like Drew is a keeper. You’re one of the best-dressed men in Osaka. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just be yourself. They’ll see you’re smart, funny and loyal and awesome for Drew.

I dunno. Ugh. I hate this. This is why I don’t date seriously.

I chuckle as a bite into the sandwich, which isn’t too bad for hospital cafeteria food. Ha. You never dated seriously because that was BD.

What the hell is BD?

Before Drew.

There’s a pause, then he writes, WTF. Jon’s in a relationship, and the chick isn’t you. That cheating fucker. How can he do this publicly on Facebook? What the hell’s going on?

Are you stalking him?

No. I friended him after you said you were dating.

We weren’t really dating. And he probably gave up because I stopped seeing him after that one time. Too busy.

Can we send anthrax to The Bastard?

No. I sigh. I need to tell him. We’re back together.

WHAT?

It’s a long story, but… I type him a super-condensed version.

You went to him?

Yes.

That was a bad move.

But he came to my place first.

Probably to drag your prone and lifeless body to work.

Come on, Bennie. Be fair.

Fine. He MIGHT have wanted to check up on you. Still…I don’t like it.

Why do you hate him so much?

Don’t hate him. Well, maybe a little. I think he’s pretty fucked up, and rich people are extra fucked up because money gives them a certain immunity. They get away with shit we can’t.

I sigh. Bennie used to get into fights with some of the kids in the neighborhood, and since their parents had more money and actually gave a damn, unlike his drunk dad, they always made sure Bennie paid with heaps of humiliation and insults hurled his way. I know, but it’s different, I type back.

You going to tell him about Mia?

I’m going to have to.

I wish you’d ended up with a guy who’s not going to complicate your life.

He’s worth every complication.

Then do it. The longer you wait, the harder it’s gonna be.

Don’t I know it. I’ve already lost chances to tell Lucas. Honestly, the best time to tell him was back in Charlottesville, when he first saw Mia. Still, better late than never. I just have to find a good opening to tell him without damaging our relationship. I believe in our love, but I also know it’s still fragile because of our past and personalities.

When Ray and Darcy visit with Mia…I’ll tell him. He can hold her if he wants to, but I also want him to understand Ray and Darcy are fabulous parents to Mia, and we can have other children of our own. And we can always see her. Unlike most adoption cases, it’s not like Darcy and Ray are strangers.

Gotta go. It’s after three AM, and I’m not as young as I used to be.

I smile.

Love ya.

I type, Love you, and hit send.

The time passes by quickly after my talk with Bennie, mostly me working on my own, since Robbie hasn’t given me any tasks since the morning. I stop by his office to see if there’s anything, but he waves me off, telling me I can leave whenever I want.

At about ten till four, I go to the restroom to freshen up my makeup. I’m glad Lucas got me this gorgeous dress…but at the same time, I wonder if Elliot will see it as a sign that I’m only interested in Lucas’s money.

I inhale deeply. It’s just dinner. I shouldn’t hold any preconceived ideas about him. I don’t want Lucas to give up his family to be with me. That would be completely unfair.

At precisely four, Lucas arrives in front of the medical center in a shiny black Bentley SUV. A uniformed driver gets out and holds the rear door open for me. I climb inside, absorbing the luxuriously smooth leather and expensive-looking wood trim. Before the chauffeur shuts the door, Lucas pulls me toward him and gives me a thorough kiss. I melt into it, loving the way his mouth devours mine. The air in my lungs thickens, and my breathing grows shallow. His big hands cradle my face, while my fingers dig into his warm, silky hair. Moments like this, I feel like there’s no barrier between us. Surely we deserve this happiness after the hell we’ve been through.

Lucas pulls back. His pupils are dark and dilated as he gazes at me. “Hi.”

I grin like an idiot. “Hi.” I tilt my head, parting my lips in invitation.

His forehead touches mine. “As much as I’d love to, we’re only two blocks away from the place.”

“Already?” We haven’t been kissing that long, have we? I squirm, my panties damp.

“Yeah. I wanted someplace nice and not too far from your work.”

“What about you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I can work from home.”

Our car stops. The chauffeur opens the door. As Lucas and I emerge from the car, a sharply dressed brunette comes forward. Her carmine skirt suit is expensive and carefully fitted to show off a gym-toned body. Swinging her big leather bag out of the way, she extends a hand. “I’m so glad you were able to make the appointment,” she says as she pumps hands with Lucas and then me.

I look at her and Lucas questioningly. He shrugs. “I said we might not be able to make it if you had to work late.”

“I’m Jennifer Brown,” the realtor says, handing each of us a business card. “It’s only four ten, and you’re my last appointment. So we can spend plenty of time looking around and discuss any concerns or questions you might have.”

I let my gaze climb along the tall, gleaming building. It looks ridiculously pricey. Jennifer leads us inside the lobby, which is all marble and glass, something I might see on a TV show about how rich people live. We take a large elevator to the top floor.

“There’s only one unit on this level,” Jennifer explains. “So it’s completely private. Every unit in this building is soundproofed, and perfect for a busy and discerning couple looking for peace and quiet in the middle of Los Angeles.”

She punches a six-digit code into a security pad, and the door unlocks. As we walk inside, I can’t help but gasp. The penthouse makes the lobby look like a homeless shelter. The ceiling absolutely soars, multiple fancy chandeliers and fans hanging from it. The hardwood floor sparkles, and the place smells like fresh wax. The view of L.A. is breathtaking. I feel like the whole city is at my feet.

Jennifer gestures around, pointing out the features and highlights, and I start to wonder if she has the entire sales brochure memorized. “The floors are all hardwood—refinished oak—except for the bathrooms, which have heated tiles. All the windows are floor to ceiling, but you don’t have to worry about privacy. With the centralized control, you can shade the panes, and nobody can see inside. You can also make the glass totally opaque if you want to sleep in, and it’s treated to block out all the harmful UV rays, so you can enjoy as much natural light as you want during the day without worrying about sun damage.” She leads us to the kitchen. “Every appliance is stainless steel and less than a year old.”

I tap my fingertips against the stainless steel countertop. It’s solid and totally smooth. The realtor smiles. “Do you like baking?”

“A little. I don’t bake all that much.”

“Perhaps with this kitchen you will.” She runs her hand along the smooth metal like she’s displaying a game show prize. “This countertop was designed for a baker. But you also see that the breakfast bar counter and the island have marble tops, giving you that elegant feel you’re looking for when you dine at home or entertain.”

I just nod. She continues to point out features as she takes us to the huge master bedroom suite, three other bedrooms and four bathrooms. Except for the powder room, all the rooms are bigger than my apartment. Seriously, do we really need this much space?

“Do you mind giving us some privacy?” Lucas asks Jennifer.

She smiles. “Of course. Take your time.” She walks away, leaving us in the master bathroom. It has a tub big enough to host a party, and I perch my butt on the edge.

“You don’t like it,” Lucas states.

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re smiling in that vague way that says you’re not really comfortable. But we don’t have to get this one. There are plenty of other places.”

I clear my throat. “I don’t have anything against this particular penthouse.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

I bite my lower lip, wondering how to word my discomfiture. I don’t want to sound like I’m whining about stuff that most would be thrilled to have, but…

As my hesitation stretches out, Lucas’s frown becomes deeper. “Is it Jennifer? If you want, I can get a male realtor.”

I chuckle. “As I much as I appreciate the offer, it’s not her. She seems nice enough. It’s me debating if we really need this kind of space. When we talked about it, it seemed all right. But I’m just wondering if this can be a home where both of us can be comfortable.”

His gaze softens as he squats before me. He reaches out and holds my hands, his palms warm. “Listen. Don’t think about the cost or the size. None of that stuff matters. What matters is that we’re together. What matters is that we love each other. I’ve lived in a big mansion, and I’ve lived in a small cottage. Home is being with someone you love. All this”—he sweeps the multimillion-dollar penthouse with an arm—“it’s just a…prop. A disposable prop.”

My heart swells with emotion, and I can’t speak through the hot knot in my throat. This man just slays me with his honesty. So I do the only thing that I can. I nod and kiss him softly.

“Is that a yes?” he whispers against my lips.

I nod again. “Yes. This place is perfect because I have you.”