Chapter Thirty-Four

Lucas

If this Black Friday gets any darker, they’ll have to call it Black Hole Friday. I sprawl on Blake’s couch and just…stare. I haven’t had a drop of alcohol since the bombshell went off, which should make me lucid.

It’s not working.

Thoughts spin around my head—not as badly as before—but I can’t seem to get a grip on anything. They slip past, elusive as a school of minnows.

The only thing I know is that Mia is mine…and Ava hid her from me all this time.

“Want some vodka? Elizabeth’s favorite,” Blake says, coming down from his room upstairs with a full bottle clutched in his fist. He’s in frayed jeans and a white T-shirt, his feet bare. The circles under his eyes are a deep purple, but he doesn’t seem much the worse for wear. But then he never did need a lot of sleep.

“You going to drink again?”

“Why not?” He settles into an armchair, propping his feet on a matching ottoman. “Beats brooding, which is what you’re doing.”

“I’m not brooding. I’m thinking.”

“Yeah, in circles. I can tell. If you need some suggestions—”

“I don’t need your advice.”

He raises an eloquent eyebrow. “Don’t you want to know why she did it?”

I study his posture—arms crossed, eyes watery but steady. “Did you get diagnosed with something terminal? An inoperable brain tumor? Cancer, maybe? This solicitude isn’t like you.”

Blake snorts. “I’m in perfect health, asshole. I’m trying to get you to quit chasing your tail.”

“You said you don’t remember being nasty to Ava.” She implied her decision had something to do with her encounter with my eldest brother, but… Damn it. Who the hell am I supposed to believe now? Until Faye’s announcement, my answer would’ve been Ava, but now…

Now I don’t know.

“I don’t.” Blake scowls. “But that doesn’t… Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“What?”

“I might’ve said something.”

I sigh. “Great.”

“I was in a bad place, mentally. I wouldn’t have come to the hospital if Elliot hadn’t said you might die.”

“What the hell can put you in a place so bad—mentally—that you can’t remember what you said?”

A flush streaks his cheeks. “It involved Dane and a woman.”

I straighten. “Dane? Dane Pryce?”

He nods.

“For fuck’s sake. Dane’s romance can’t be worth much mental energy.” I’ve met the man a few times, but he’s cold, not an ounce of compassion in his expression or voice. He actually comes off as sociopathic.

“It wasn’t about his romance.”

It slowly dawns on me. “Yours?”

Blake rolls his eyes. “It’s an old story. In any case, I could’ve said something without realizing it. But no, I don’t remember.”

“What the fuck. You should’ve told me this before.”

“I don’t want to even think about that time.”

“All of us have stuff we don’t want to think about.”

“Anyway,” Blake says, pointing the bottle at me, “here’s the advice. Make her tell you everything.”

“How’s that going to help?” What if she tells me something I’d rather not know? That she never thought I was good enough? Or maybe she thought I’d make a terrible father. After all, I’m a fuck-up. I might’ve gotten better over time, but…

I’m like a broken bowl—it can be put back together, but it’ll never be as good as it was before.

“You won’t be flying blind, for one thing. And there won’t be any way for someone like Faye to throw a Molotov cocktail into your relationship. Or, if you’re tired of Ava, this is the perfect time to end it. You can be the good guy here—the victim of her scheming ways.”

“I’m no fucking victim.”

As the words slip out of my lips, I realize that’s true. I don’t let my mother’s poisonous words chip away at me day and night like they used to. The main thing I’ve been thinking about since the day Ava came to my suite to mend our relationship is our future together—how I’m going to spoil her and treasure her, so she’ll never, ever lack for anything. Every smile from her, every contented sigh is a gift.

My phone rings. I pick it up, hoping it’s Ava calling. But no, it’s some unknown number. Who…?

“Hello?” I answer anyway. Just in case.

“Is this Lucas?”

I tense. It’s Ray. “Speaking.”

A soft clearing of the throat. “This is Ray McIntire. Am I interrupting anything?”

“Depends on what you got to say.” I haven’t forgotten the way he pulled Mia out of my reach. Bastard. “How did you get my number?”

“Ava gave it to me when you took her away for the weekend in Charlottesville. I insisted, since I didn’t quite trust you.”

“Did you think I’d kill her? Leave her body on the side of the road?”

There’s a stretch of silence that’s all too eloquent. Then he says, “Ava and Darcy left to do some shopping, and I wanted to talk to you without them listening.” He draws in air audibly. “Blame me.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Ava wanted to tell you about Mia, but I asked her not to.”

“Why?”

“I can’t lose my daughter.”

Anger erupts within me. I jump to my feet, my arm slashing the air. “She’s my daughter!”

“You weren’t even there!” Ray bellows. “Who do you think gave Ava the support and love she needed when she was alone and pregnant? It sure as hell wasn’t you!”

“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.