Chapter 30
Ava
I stare up at the sky.
It’s no longer pitch-black.
Color is creeping in like the night knows it’s being dragged to its feet. Deep purples stretch thin, while the horizon gathers itself in quiet bands of gold.
Morning is here whether I’m ready or not.
And the truth is, I’m not.
But the kids will be up soon.
And I need to get back to the house and slip into Connor’s room before they come looking for me.
Because the last thing anyone needs right now is a bright, innocent voice asking, Why are you and Princess Luna naked?
I roll onto my side and steal one last look at Harrison Evans, stretched out and devastating, like some fallen warrior god who wandered out of the woods just to ruin me.
Or at least my vagina.
Which he absolutely did.
Honestly, I would have snuck out half an hour ago, but I wasn’t confident I could physically walk.
There’s also the smallest, most inconvenient chance that I am enjoying the view.
I take inventory. Sculpted pecs. Abs that feel illegal. A dusting of dark hair that disappears beneath the blanket like an engraved invitation. Or a warning.
I squeeze my eyes shut.
Why can I not have a life like this?
A beautiful world where everything fits. A gorgeous man. Three incredible kids. A kick-ass career that actually means something. A life that feels full instead of carefully curated.
And how about sex more often than once every leap year.
The kind that leaves you breathless and undone and wondering how you ever went without.
The kind Harrison gift wraps and delivers. Every damn time.
Seriously, is that really too much to ask?
I open my eyes again, tamping back the fantasy and settling into the unforgiving truth.
Our one night is over.
I blow out a breath and look over at him one last time, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. Steady. Unbothered.
Settled.
How can he sleep this peacefully?
Meanwhile, my anxiety has climbed to that suspended moment at the top of a roller coaster, when everything goes quiet right before you fall.
And with Harrison, I will fall.
I don’t have a choice.
I feel the man everywhere. Invisible threads pull tight, tugging at every heartstring.
And if I’m going to leave, it has to be now.
Determined, I slip off the chaise and get dressed. Then I take a breath and really look at myself.
The borrowed T-shirt. The flannel. The absurdly rolled sweatpants.
Have I become Mrs. Lumberjack?
You wish.
I reach for the coat, and Harrison’s phone slides off the chaise and hits the floor.
Crap. Please don’t be broken. That feels like bad karma on top of already questionable decisions.
The screen lights up. Silent. A text comes in.
From Lydia.
Who the hell is Lydia?
The message is short. Need you now.
Two cookie emojis.
Two.
Is that code for boobs?
Because it feels like code for boobs.
Dread slams into my gut. I mean, it’s not like Harrison Evans and I are exclusive, but still.
And I’m not sure what I expected from the king of condoms, but a come get your cookies summons sure as hell wasn’t it.
For God’s sake, it’s not even dawn.
Ugh. Just the thought of him with another woman—
Nope. Absolutely not. Do not go there.
He isn’t yours, Ava.
So why does it hurt like he is?
I take a breath, shove my stupid feelings aside, and resist the urge to toss his phone straight into the fire.
I’ve got to get out of here.
I ease out the door and start down the path. Instantly, my footing slips out from under me.
I land on my ass.
Ow.
Because apparently, the universe feels the need to kick a girl when she’s already down.
I scan the path. No wonder I barely survived the walk up. Damp stone and icy dew coat every inch, a quiet little obstacle course for the tragically uncoordinated.
Determined, I push myself up, careful this time.
And immediately slip again. “Argh!”
“Going somewhere, Pix?”
Oh, no.
This is very much not the conversation I need right now.
Not while he’s shirtless in jeans, all broad shoulders and lickable abs while I’m scrambling to my feet like a newborn gazelle.
“Aren’t you cold?” I ask, as our breath fogs the air.
“I’m not the one whose ass is parked on nature’s popsicle.”
I breathe through it and manage to stand, gesturing toward the house. “I was just heading back to the house. Before the kids woke up.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
Are we really doing this now? “I didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be.”
He tilts his head. “Make what harder?”
“The part where I have my life and you have yours. And your cookie girl has hers,” I snap, furious.
“My what?”
I take a decisive step forward. “It’s over. You said as much.”
“I believe we said as much,” he corrects, reaching for my hand.
I jerk it back.
“Fine. Whatever. We.” I steady myself and face him. “We’re not in a relationship, Harrison.”
“I know that, Pix.”
“And it’s not like I have feelings for you or anything.”
He folds his arms across his chest, jaw set. “Is that so?”
I take another step. “Yes. That’s so. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll just be on my way.”
He moves before I can pass him. In two solid steps, he’s blocking the path entirely. His gaze locks onto mine.
“So that’s where we are,” he says quietly. “You feel nothing for me?”
Something flickers across his face. Hurt, maybe.
No. That’s ridiculous.
He’s a player. And players don’t have feelings.
I’m just the unlucky girl who fell for him anyway.
I lift my chin higher. “None.”
His voice drops to a rough growl. “Liar.”
He’s right.
But I’m not giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.
I’m already torn up. And the thought of leaving him and his beautiful children, hurts more than it should.
I’ve already grown attached. Way too attached. This isn’t healthy.
“I’m going.”
“Where?”
“Where do you think? To my hotel.”
“You can’t stay at the hotel they put you up in.”
“What?” I blink. “Why not?”
“Because I said so.”
I snort. “How very Neanderthal of you.”
“I’m serious, Pix,” he warns. “That place is a paparazzi swamp with a skeleton crew of security. You’d be safer in the greenhouse.”
My breath catches. “Is that an invitation? Because if you’re asking me to move in with you, I decline.”
I take exactly one step before my foot skids, and I nearly face-plant into the ground.
Lumberjack catches me easily and slings me over his shoulder like a sack of oranges.
“Hey!” I laugh despite myself. “What are you doing?”
“My civic duty,” he says dryly as his feet navigate the path. “Helping those ridiculous ballet slippers survive another day. You’re welcome.”
“They’re my favorite.”
“I assumed as much,” he says evenly. “Considering how often they’re involved in near-death experiences.”
He shifts me higher on his shoulder with infuriating strength, and continues.
“I’ve made arrangements for you to stay somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Round-the-clock security. Zero access to reporters.”
“You did?”
My stupid heart immediately assumes this means he cares.
Then my brain catches up. “Wait. When did you make these arrangements?”
“Yesterday.”
Oh.
So that’s that. “Couldn’t wait to get rid of me?”
“That’s not it at all. I just—” He cuts himself off. “Just don’t tell anyone where you are.”
“I have to,” I snap. “My manager. My PA.” I stop, irritation flaring. “And who I tell about my whereabouts is none of your business.”
“I promised your brother I’d look out for you,” he says evenly. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Silence stretches between us as we make our way back to the house.
Then I hear it.
Voices.
Oh no.
To my horror, the kids are already up.
Another walk of shame. Fantastic.
Harrison sets me down just as the kids rush in for hugs. Connor beams, waving a spatula like he’s hosting a cooking show.
“We made breakfast!”
Harrison’s face drains of color. “You did?”
I’m immediately dragged into the kitchen, Ollie clutching one hand, Snooki the other.
A blender sits in the middle of the counter, filled with something beige and lumpy. I spot cereal. Orange juice. Peanut butter. And what looks suspiciously like beef.
The smell is… bleh.
Harrison finds a smile and pats Connor’s shoulder. “Buddy,” he says carefully, “I admire the initiative.”
A phone buzzes. Harrison pulls it from his back pocket, and I hate how badly I want to know if it’s her. Or maybe it’s just another member of his ever-growing fan club.
“Emergency?” I ask, annoyed.
“Yeah. Sorry.” His gaze flicks to the blender, then back to the kids, and something settles in him. A decision. “Okay. Quick goodbyes. I have to get to work, and Princess Luna has to take off.”
“What?” I stare at him, alarmed. “Who’s going to watch the kids?”
“I texted my sister. Auntie Hannah’s on her way,” he says excitedly.
The kids all cheer like this is the best news they’ve heard all day. I smile, because that’s what you do when your heart is breaking a little, and everyone goes on with their day.
Harrison’s already moving down the hall. “I’ll grab your things.”
I guess I’m leaving now.
Leaving him is one thing. But I would’ve liked a little more time with the kids.
Apparently, the welcome mat had an expiration date.
I bend down and pull each of them into a hug, careful not to let the tears slip. “Don’t forget me,” I tease.
“Not on your life,” Connor says solemnly.
Ollie tugs a plastic pirate sword from his pajama pants. “Say the word, milady, and I will be at your disposal.”
I ruffle his hair. “I may take you up on that.”
I open my arms, and Snooki immediately pops into them. “Can we FaceTime?”
“I’d love that.”