Chapter 14 Ava
AVA
The day after my lunch with Desmond began with no sign of him. The lobby and hallways were completely clear of him, and I wished—foolishly—that I could go with him to the party later tonight.
Every time the elevator doors opened, I craned my neck to see if I could spot Desmond walking by. Perhaps he’d acknowledge me with a stiff smile or even just a knowing look that I could think back to when I went home alone.
It was close to four p.m. when I finally saw him walk out of an elevator. He was leaving for the day, going by the briefcase in his hand, and my heart skipped a beat when he looked across the lobby at me.
He walked over, and thankfully, there was no one around. Carolyn was in the back room, noting down our inventory, and most of our customers were too busy rushing out of work to stop for a drink or a snack.
He seemed to relax as he approached me and smiled. He had a five-o’clock shadow that suited him well, and he looked a little weary, but pleased.
“Ms. Hale,” he began, “I forgot to ask you this earlier. How do you like your new job?”
“It’s been pretty good.” I smiled, hoping Carolyn wouldn’t step out right now. I didn’t want her to overhear anything about Desmond and me having met earlier. “The people have been great, and Carolyn is helping me learn a lot.”
“You mean no one’s scared you off yet?” He grinned as he set his briefcase on the counter and opened it.
The corners of my lips twitched. “Knowing your grumpy reputation, perhaps they’ve left that bit to you.”
He pressed his hand to his chest in a heartbroken way and said, “Touché!” and the two of us shared a laugh.
When the moment passed, we were still looking at each other. I was wondering why he was here and also noticing how his eyes twinkled when he laughed.
“Good luck for the party,” I said, remembering just in time that he had plans for the night.
He stared at me for a long moment and then said, “Oh, thanks.”
He finally grinned. “I almost forgot about the party. Thanks again for reminding me. On a more serious note,” he said, reaching into his briefcase, “when you mentioned that your mom had passed away, I thought of something.”
There was a strange lurch in my chest. Here was another person trying to bring up Mom’s death with me. When would this stop?
He pulled a brown leather book out and handed the book over to me, a solemn expression on his face.
I took the book and leafed through it, hoping I would know what to say.
It was empty.
“It’s a grief journal, Ava,” he said when I raised my eyebrows. “It’s—” He ran his hand through his hair, struggling for words. “Well, when I asked you earlier about your mom, you avoided speaking about her. When I asked you about her book club friends, you … well, you hedged that question too.”
I took a step back, wishing Desmond weren’t making me think about those things. I was running out of excuses to avoid an actual conversation about Mom. About the lie I’d discovered when it was too late.
“I could understand it,” he said with an empathetic look. “It’s grief, Ava. Unless there’s something more?”
I shook my head, an instant reaction. Avoiding was easier than admitting the whole truth.
“From what I can see, except for the restaurant, you’re avoiding talking about your mom as a person.
And I can understand. I went through that too.
It’s just that journaling helped me a lot.
It was suggested to me by my therapist, and while I was skeptical, it helped me unravel and address some of my emotions.
” He inclined his head to the book. “I got you one in case it might help you too.”
I stared at him, feeling a flood of disbelief.
I’d spent months learning to edge out of conversations about my mom.
It had been easy so far—I had to just deflect to the restaurant, and people would go with it.
I’d mastered the art of looking like I wasn’t hurting when I was pining in plain view.
And for the first time, someone was calling me out on it.
Carolyn walked out of the back room, sparing me a need to respond. I didn’t want a grief journal. I didn’t want to think about those painful memories.
Desmond nodded at the two of us, and after wishing us a good day, he walked away.
“What’s that?” Carolyn asked, her gaze going to the book on the counter.
“It’s a book,” I said, flicking through the pages again.
How could Desmond know I wasn’t coping well with my grief by meeting me just once?
“It’s empty,” Carolyn said, her voice dry.
I looked up and met her eyes. “Exactly my point,” I said, and we grinned in companionable silence.
I stashed the book in my work cubby in the back room, and the rest of my hour passed by uneventfully. When I closed up the shop with Carolyn at five, I was looking forward to curling up in my bed with a good book.
I’d heard from the contractor tasked with remodeling the restaurant, and he said that specific fixtures for the interior weren’t available, so the restaurant opening would be delayed by a few weeks until that was resolved.
Which meant I needed to make myself comfortable at Luxe Hotels.
I’d be working here longer than planned while waiting for the restaurant to reopen.
“Let me know how your yoga class goes, won’t you, Carolyn?” I asked as the two of us walked down the front steps of Luxe Hotels’ headquarters together. “Perhaps yoga is something I should explore.” It was something that didn’t involve talking about Mom at the very least.
A cool evening breeze swirled around gently as Carolyn nodded.
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” she said, waving goodbye.
“Hank, the yoga teacher, is super handsome. At twenty-eight, he’s a little young for me, but you might take a fancy to him,” she said with a wink before she turned and walked away to the parking garage.
I looked down the long street, where early darkness was just settling in, and drew in a deep breath. I hadn’t considered dating again, but Carolyn liked to use every opportunity to remind me that I ought to get out there and socialize.
I walked onto the quiet street, thinking back to my last conversation with Desmond. I wondered who he’d be taking to that party, and for a second, I let myself imagine what Desmond and I would look like, walking into a party, hand in hand.
When that image was fully formed in my head, I drew a sharp breath. I felt a twinge of something, and for the first time, I realized there was a tiny part of me that was longing for him again. A tiny part that had never given up in the years we spent apart.
I shook my head and stopped walking. That was a fantasy, one that wouldn’t happen. I needed to put that thought out of my mind before it had a chance to linger and take up permanent space.
Focusing on the pavement under my feet, I resumed walking when I heard a sound. I squinted in the darkness when I heard a scuffle and shouts and saw a man, who, at first sight, seemed to be in his mid-twenties. He had on a shiny jacket and large-rimmed glasses with sparkly edges.
That shiny jacket. I recognized him at once as one of our customers at The Java Hobby. Just as the man came into view, strangely enough running in these clothes, I saw he was being chased by three other young men, roughly in their late teens.
As I observed, they attacked the man, pushing him into the ditch, accompanied by yells. There were jeers and, “Take that, you wimp,” and, “Laugh like a girl. Go on. We’ve heard you. Laugh.”
They pinned him down, and he was gasping for breath. I could only hear hoarse noises from him. They were going to kill him.
I hunted in my bag for my pepper spray and cursed when I came up empty.
I looked around the street to find something that I could use to help protect the man.
A small rock, perhaps, to hit them with?
The street was bare, and when I turned back to the building, I couldn’t see anyone walking out who could help. I had to rely on myself.
I saw a car parked by the curb, and remembering a trick Kyle had used a long time ago, I rammed my body by the side door. That did it. The car alarm beeped loudly, setting off a large cacophony, and the three men stopped what they were doing and turned around.
I did see the landscaping and the small plants by the side of the wall and ran up. I picked up a ten-inch landscape rock and then looked at the men at least ten feet away from me.
I held the rock above my head and took two ominous steps toward them.
“I played on my high school’s varsity basketball team,” I lied. “And I aim very well. Want to find out?”
I pulled my arm back and narrowed my eyes as I braced myself for a throw.
They hesitated, and with a quick look at the fallen man, they ran in the opposite direction.
My knees were wobbly, and I was close to falling down in relief. Putting the rock down, I walked up to the man on the pavement, who was thankfully trying to sit up and nursing his neck.
“I thought they were going to kill you,” I said amid the blaring alarm of the car.
He leaned forward, still nursing his neck, where he held his hands gingerly. “They can’t,” he said, finally standing up. “If they did, who’d be left to tease?”
I felt a sense of misery at the way he had lightly treated the completely horrific behavior he was just subjected to.
“You need to file a police report. I—I wish I’d recorded it,” I said, slapping the palm of my hand to my forehead. “We can still check if there are cameras anywhere nearby. You’d have proof. You could find whoever it was and take it to the courts.”
He adjusted his jacket and took a deep breath before extending his hand out to me. And then, looking at his outstretched hand with incredulity, he abandoned it and then pulled me into a hug.
“Rishi Chopra,” he said, letting go. “I’m an actor, so I’m really glad you stepped in before they could damage my fine nose. Thank you for saving me.”