Ava
Ihear Eric calling my name. He sounds like he’s far away, but then I feel his hand on my shoulder gently shaking me.
My eyelids weigh a hundred pounds, or so it seems. I force them open and blink a large Victorian house into focus. Something about it is familiar.
“We’re here.”
“Where’s here?”
“The Fairlawn Inn. Camille told me you’ve been here before and loved it.”
“Yes! Once with our parents. I did love it. This is amazing, Eric. Thank you so much.”
“I’m glad you’re happy. Do you feel better?”
“Much better. Sorry about conking out on you. It was the Benadryl.”
“No problem, but I did miss you.” He smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Want to go in and see if it’s like you remember?”
“Uh-huh.” I’m so touched by the thought he put into taking me somewhere that would please me.
The inside is just as I remember, cozy and welcoming with antique furnishings.
We’re shown to our room, which features a sleigh bed with a floral quilt and canopy.
“The last time I stayed here, I had to share a bed with Camille.” I rest a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm.
“I’m much more excited to share a bed with you. ”
“I should hope so.”
His reply makes me laugh, and I vow to put all my focus and attention on him this weekend. That’s the least of what he deserves after going to all this trouble to arrange a romantic getaway for us.
We spend that afternoon taking a hike on trails that surround the inn and have a delicious dinner at a nearby restaurant in downtown Hunter.
It’s a lovely, relaxing day that ends with a soak in the claw-foot tub in our bathroom.
I’m facing him, and he’s got my feet in his lap, massaging the bottoms of them.
“Thank you for this,” I tell him. “I really needed it.”
“You’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately.”
“I know.” I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s noticed. He notices everything where I’m concerned. “I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling neglected.”
“I haven’t. Don’t worry about me. I have, however, been worried about you.”
“Really? Why?”
He seems to choose his words carefully. “You’ve been very… absorbed by the wedding.”
“Do you know that most people these days are engaged at least eighteen months? A six-month engagement is almost unheard of. It’s a lot to do in a short amount of time.”
“I realize it’s a lot, and I want our big day to be perfect for both of us, but I worry that your enthusiasm for the wedding might be coming from a different place.”
“What different place?” I play dumb, but a twinge of panic hits me. He knows. Of course he does. He knows everything.
Tipping his head, he looks at me imploringly. “Ava…”
I don’t know what to say.
“You don’t have to do this with me. I’m not going to be threatened if you want to talk about him—”
“I don’t.”
Eric doesn’t say anything, but he looks at me without blinking for such a long time that he breaks me with his compassion.
“He’s the last thing I want to talk about.
I’m sick of talking about him. I’m sick of seeing his face everywhere after not seeing it anywhere for years.
I’m fed up with the speculation about who he is and where he is.
I’ve had enough of feeling like a fool for caring so much for so long when he clearly doesn’t give a shit about me. Is that what you want to know?”
“It’s a good start.”
“I don’t want to think about any of those things. I want to think about you and me and our wedding. I want to talk to you about going off the pill soon so we can try for a baby right away.”
His eyes widen with surprise. “You do?”
“Yes, I do. I want to be a mom. I want a family with you. If you still want that, too.”
“I want it. You know I do.”
“If I’m overly focused on our wedding, it’s because that’s what I want to be thinking about. Not that other stuff.”
“I understand, but I don’t want you to ever think you can’t talk about the other stuff with me or that you have to hide it from me.”
“You’ve been so amazing through all of this. I don’t know that I would’ve been able to handle it at all if I hadn’t had you to hold my hand.”
Sitting up, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it. “Yours is my favorite hand to hold, and I’ll always be there for you, Ava. Good times and bad. That’s what I signed on for.”
“I don’t want any more bad times,” I whisper, my eyes filling. “I’m so tired of being sad. You make me happy. The wedding makes me happy. If I fill myself up with those things, there’s no room for the sadness.”
“You know that I’m always happy to fill you up with me.”
I snort with laughter even as I brush away tears.
He stands and reaches for me. “Let’s get out of here before you turn into an old prune.”
“We can’t have that. I’m getting married soon.”
“Yes, you are, and the groom didn’t sign on for an old prune.”
We go back to bed and stay there until the following afternoon, laughing, talking, making love and making plans. In need of food and coffee, we go into town for brunch and spend the rest of the day checking out the antique shops, bookstore and galleries.
A movie we’ve both been wanting to see is playing in the town’s movie theater, so we buy tickets to the five o’clock show and grab dinner afterward.
It’s a relaxing, invigorating getaway, and as we leave to head back to the city around noon on Sunday, I do so determined not to let the wedding become more important than my relationship with Eric.
On the way out of Hunter, we pick up a copy of the Sunday New York Times and pore over the flattering story about the four of us.
“That’s a great picture of us all,” Eric says. “We should frame it for them.”
“And for us.”
“Two of everything, for sure.”
Rob and Camille text us to share their delight with the story and the photos. Nice change in the narrative about our family, he says.
I text back for both of us to tell them we loved the story and the photos.
“Thank you for this weekend,” I tell Eric when we’re on the highway headed back to the city. “It was just what I needed.”
“You’re welcome, and it was definitely my pleasure.” He waggles his brows at me so I don’t miss the double meaning.
“After this weekend,” I say, patting his leg, “you should be set for sex for the next month or two.”
“Ummm… Wait. What?”
I lose it laughing. His expression is absolutely hysterical. I’m laughing so hard, I almost don’t hear my phone ringing. I grab the call from my mother right before it goes to voicemail.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”
“Ava…”
“Mom? Is something wrong?”
“Honey, agents from the NCIS were just here.”
“What? Why? What’d they want?”
“It’s John, honey. He’s trying to find you.”
John
It took twenty-seven days, but I’m now able to stand for up to five minutes at a time thanks to the prosthesis I’m learning to tolerate.
I’m told I’ll be able to stand for longer periods over time, but for now, five minutes is all I can handle.
They also tell me I’m well ahead of schedule in my recovery.
All I know is the pain is excruciating, I still look like absolute hell and I’m out of time.
The interview with 60 Minutes is set for a week from Sunday.
I have to see Ava before I go on national TV to tell my story. About three weeks ago, I decided I can’t call her out of the blue after nearly six years. More than anything, I’m afraid she’ll tell me to go to hell, hang up and never speak to me again. I can’t take that chance.
I used the phone to look her up online and found no sign of an Ava Lucas in San Diego. She was never into social media for her personal life because she had to deal with it so much at work, so that’s a dead end. I asked Muncie to go to our apartment building and find out if she’s still there.
Muncie came back with a report from the super that she left almost a year ago and didn’t leave a forwarding address. This is the best news I’ve had in years.
“I want you to find her,” I tell Muncie, buoyed by the fact that it took her five years to move out of our place.
“How am I supposed to do that, sir?”
“Get the NCIS on it.”
“I don’t think they’re in the business of tracking down ex-girlfriends.”
“They want me to do that interview with 60 Minutes, right?”
“So you’re saying…”
“If they don’t find my girl, there’s no interview.”
That’s how I got the NCIS involved in tracking down Ava. It didn’t take long because I knew she was from Purchase, New York, and her parents were lifers there, at least they were when I knew her.
“She’s in New York City, sir,” Muncie reports late on a Sunday night by phone.
“What else?”
“You asked us to find her. We found her. That’s all I’ve got. You want her address?”
“Yeah.”
He rattles it off, and I write it down so I have it. “I want you to go there.”
“What? You want me to go to New York and find your ex? Er, um, sir?”
“She’s not my ex.” Or at least she wasn’t when I last saw her. No, she was the sun, the moon, the stars, my whole life. The best thing to ever happen to me. There was nothing “ex” about it. “Didn’t you say the Navy made you available to tend to whatever I might need?”
“I did, but—”
“I need to see her and talk to her before I go public with my story. There’re things… that she should hear from me.” I need her. I have to see her, to find out if what we had is still there. I have to know if she still loves me the way she once did.
“Why can’t you call her? Don’t you have her number?”
“I do, but…” I can’t tell him I’m afraid she won’t take the call. “It would be better if you went there and told her I need to see her. That it’s urgent.”
He is silent for such a long time that I fear he’s ended the call.
“Muncie?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Please. I wouldn’t ask this of you if I didn’t really need to see her.”
“I’ll go tomorrow,” he says reluctantly.
“You will? Really?”
“Yes, sir. I said I would, and I will.”
“You’ll tell her I need to see her? And arrange to get her here?”
“I’ll do what I can, sir,” he says with a deep sigh. “That’s all I can promise until I talk to my chain of command.”
“Of course, there’s that interview they’ve got me doing…”
“I understand your position, sir.”
“I don’t want her to see me in the hospital. Set it up for a hotel or somewhere other than this place. In fact, I know just the place.” I give him the name of the hotel I want. “Get a suite.”
“Is there anything else, sir?”
“No, that’ll do it. Just hurry up about it, will you?”
“Yes, sir. I understand your urgency.”
“You can’t possibly understand my urgency, Muncie.”
“No, sir, of course I can’t. I’ll call you tomorrow night.”
“I’ll be waiting.” I’m so excited by the possibility I might see her—soon—that I can’t sleep that night.
I lie awake the entire night, staring at the ceiling, reliving every minute I spent with her, the bliss I knew in her arms, the overwhelming love I felt for her and received from her in return.
I’ve never experienced anything like it, and living without it, without her, for all this time has been the worst form of torture.
I’d do it again to bring Al Khad to justice, but I paid a hefty price for that victory, and so did Ava.
I need the chance to apologize to her, to try to explain… I just hope and pray she’ll see me and give me the chance.