Chapter 19 Ava #2
The door to the restroom remained closed while my heart beat rapidly, as though I expected anyone to barge in now. We were barely a foot apart, and he held my gaze, as though he could read me and read my hurt.
He looked at me gravely and then asked, “What did Kyle say?”
Saying the words out loud seemed harder than ever.
I looked away. “He doesn’t want me to contact him or anyone he works with ever again.” My voice was on the verge of breaking again. “He said I’d put an end to searching for him if I knew what was good for me.”
His eyes gave away the fear he felt, and he took a step toward me. “Oh, Ava,” he said, stopping mere inches away from me and looking very much like he was going to pull me to him. “I’m sorry.”
Then, he did indeed pull me to him, and I let myself sink into his embrace.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered into my hair. “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this. You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right? I’ll take care of this. I’ll take care of you.”
He smelled of musk and soap. Of safety and comfort.
“I’m not scared of Kyle,” I said, hearing his heartbeat as I leaned against him. “I’m doing this for Mom’s restaurant.”
He pressed a kiss to my hair. “I know, and I admire you for it. But why do I feel that there’s more to her death than you’re letting on?”
I looked up at him, my head still pressed against his chest. Despite all my efforts to avoid this conversation, it was threatening to burst out of me now. To him. With the security of his strong arms wrapped around me.
“Desmond, remember when you said back in the car that you didn’t think I was bitter? Well, I am, Desmond.”
I’d been trying to keep Desmond out of this.
Holding him at arm’s length wasn’t working anymore.
He just worked his way through my defenses, showing me again and again that he cared about me.
I didn’t want him to care for me. But he was here.
He wanted to be here, and that look of worry on his face was real.
The protective arms around me were real. I couldn’t block him out any longer.
I lifted my head off his chest, touching my hand to his cheek.
“You know why? After she died, I was going through her things, and I found bills from the doctor about multiple visits to a cardiologist. I found out that she’d had a heart problem all along that she never confided in me about.
Me, her only child. Her only family. I’d never even known she had a heart issue, let alone that she’d been taking treatment for it.
I could’ve helped her, Desmond. I could’ve moved in with her and kept an eye on her.
But she’d treated me like she treated her friends—loved me, but always kept me at a distance, never wanting to worry me. ”
When I chanced a look at him, he looked fierce, and it only encouraged me to go on. I wanted someone to get angry on my behalf. I wanted someone to tell me that I was justified in being bitter and that being bitter was the only way to be when your mom died without being honest with you.
“After I found out, I’ve never visited Mom’s grave, Desmond. I’m holding her death against her. I’m angry with her, even after she died. What kind of a person does that make me?”
The tears threatened to fall, but I forced myself to finish what I had to say. I couldn’t live through this a second time.
“She’s buried in St. Raymond’s Cemetery in the Throggs Neck neighborhood of the Bronx, and I haven’t taken flowers to her grave, Des.
It’s almost been eleven months since her death, and I still haven’t forgiven her for leaving me like this.
I’m not a good person if I can be angry with her now.
When she can’t defend herself. You left me abruptly, and now, she left too.
I don’t know how to deal with losing the people who matter the most. I’m mad and bitter.
That’s me. That’s the Ava Hale you see today. ”
My throat ran dry at the reminder of those days. Of the hurt and pain that had come with not being able to be by Mom’s side when she was suffering.
Desmond drew me closer, looking angrier than ever. “Well, I’ll be damned if I stand by when someone else hurts you again,” he said. “Kyle isn’t getting anywhere close to you, Ava. I’ll make sure of that.”
The door to the men’s restroom across from ours fell shut, and I jumped.
“You should go,” I said, wiping my cheeks dry and gesturing to the door. “Before someone walks in.”
He didn’t move. He stared at me, his jaw working. “Come with me,” he said finally.
“I’m not walking out of this restroom with you.” I shook my head.
“Let’s go out for dinner and talk this out,” he said. “Just the two of us. I know of places where we can speak in private. Without a chance of running into anyone who might know us.”
I glanced up at him and shook my head. “I can’t be seen—”
“With me,” he said, his voice rough. He stepped back, staring at me like he was at a loss. “I want to understand, but with you”—he sounded hopeless—“I just fail every time, Ava.”
“Desmond, if word got out that we’d been seeing each other far more often than was appropriate, I’d—”
I’d be the one who lost my job. I’d lose any chance of getting my mom’s restaurant back. I’d be the laughingstock of all the employees at Luxe Hotels when I was eventually let go without references.
But none of that really mattered.
“Desmond, being around you brings back too many feelings,” I whispered.
He gave me a burning gaze before he stepped up to me. I backed up to the wall just as Desmond’s hands went on either side of the wall behind me.
“Ava,” he muttered, bending in closer, “promise me something.”
“What?” I asked a little defiantly.
He was closer than he’d ever been, his lips mere inches from my face.
“Promise me you’ll not freak out and overanalyze this situation.”
All the sounds around me dulled, and I could only feel his touch and hear his breathing. I was only a woman, standing in front of a man, who was smiling at her like he really liked her.
I recognized his look. It was one I’d seen often in the past.
He’s going to kiss me.
“I can’t make promises I can’t keep,” I whispered as his head came down close to mine.
He was leaning in, and before my brain could come up with excuses, before my logical part could take over, I was leaning in myself.
His lips descended over mine, and I opened my mouth to let him kiss me deeply.
He put his hands on my back, and he drew me closer to him.
For a long, delicious moment, we let our lips tell each other how we felt.
We let our arms hold each other when, in reality, we hid our yearning away.
We let our bodies speak since our tongues refused to.
With Desmond, my body and my lips knew the drill. It was like they’d never forgotten. Pucker, kiss, pull away a bit. Let him get closer, hold me tighter, and repeat. I didn’t think of all the reasons why I shouldn’t be kissing him. Going by how intensely he was kissing back, he didn’t either.
When we pulled away, after what seemed like a short second, breathing heavily, he didn’t let go.
He had one hand wrapped around my waist while he nuzzled my cheek.
I felt his breath on my neck and cheek, my skin tingling in response.
His other thumb was now stroking my chin, gingerly tilting my face to his.
I looked into his eyes and was moved when I saw a look of deep longing.
My heart was beating a thousand times a minute, and my body moved closer, as though I was under a spell.
I ran my hands over his shirt, where I could feel his hard chest and up his neck, where I definitely wanted to plant a few kisses.
We should resume. We definitely should resume. Why had we stopped?
“We should stop,” he said without moving an inch or taking either hand off me.
My waist was pressed tightly against his crotch, and Desmond was definitely more than interested.
“This can’t happen,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “We have this huge history together. We work together! I’m your boss.”
He groaned. I only had to reach out, and I could caress his hair. Could we resume? I wasn’t done showering him with kisses. I could see a soft spot on his neck and near the ear, which definitely called for attention.
“Technically, Thomas is my boss,” I said. “You’re somewhere in the line of hierarchy.”
Look at me, flaunting the number of people separating our respective positions in the org chart. I used to be furious that I was demoted.
“The company policy,” he began, his eyes clouding with confusion.
I blinked, forcing myself to think beyond this moment, just as the rules of the world came flooding back to me. The workplace relationship policy.
Oh. Shit.
This was definitely a situation that needed to be overthought and overanalyzed.
I could see the conflict in Desmond’s eyes.
“Damn,” he muttered, taking a step away.
He had let himself go too. It was almost like we were back in high school, blindly believing that nothing in the real world could tear us apart.
“And of course, I was going to say, that’s why we can’t go ahead,” I said.
Previously, all I’d had to do was straighten my arm to stroke his cheek—my next move, obviously—but there was now two feet between the two of us.
“I should leave,” he said, looking around the restroom. “I’m leaving,” he added, taking a step in the direction of the door.
He took one more painful step away before he paused. He turned back to me, and before I knew it, his hand was on my wrist, and he was tilting my chin up.
“This was not how I envisioned this happening.”
I inhaled a sharp breath. His words filled me with a warmth I hadn’t expected.
“You imagined this?” I blurted out. “Us kissing?”
He smiled and nodded, and the warm feeling in me only grew.
“We kissed and did not kill each other after?” I asked again in disbelief.
He pretended to think really hard. “Well, in one of those daydreams, you did try to kill me this one time—with a butcher’s knife, no less.” His hand cupped my cheek, and I closed my eyes at the touch. “But at the very last moment, your good conscience intervened.”
My eyes opened, and I took a deep breath. “Going by what we just did, I’m pretty sure I’ve left my conscience at home.”
His eyes never left my face. “Ava …” he said, stepping in closer. “Did you go out on your date?” he asked, looking like he was fighting with himself about something.
My breath hitched as I remembered Hank.
“Yes,” I whispered, and the look on his face was one of anger.
He closed his eyes for just a moment, as though he was trying to control his reaction.
When he opened his eyes, they looked pained. He had the look of a man admitting a regret he never voiced out loud. “If our situation were any different—”
“If you weren’t my boss,” I clarified as he stepped in closer. My hands instinctively reached for the lapels of his jacket, wishing I could keep him here longer.
An expression crossed his face as he leaned in, his minty breath on my cheek. “Right. If that weren’t the case, I’d be the one taking you out for a date.”
I nodded, feeling his eyes burning into mine. “I see,” I said, letting go of his lapels as disappointment took over me.
His jaw worked, and I could see his body tighten.
“We’re playing a very dangerous game,” he said, stepping sideways. “I think it’s better we remain friends.”