Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
AVA
“Ava, can you please call me back. I really need to talk to you.”
“It’s me again. Call me. Whenever you get this just call me, dammit.”
“Ava, please. Just pick up my calls. I’m freaking out here.”
The fourth message takes on a different tone. Calmer. More like the Myles I know and… yeah.
“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk to me. That’s okay. Just send me a message to let me know you’re all right. Before I pull my goddamned hair out.”
Okay so the ending wasn’t cool and controlled. But if I’m being completely honest I kind of like the fact that he’s as riled up as I am.
I look up at Sophie and Lauren who are leaning in, listening avidly. Then I pull up my messenger and type out two simple words.
I’m okay. – Ava
Yes, it’s a lie but I can’t get rid of my nice girl tendencies all at once. These things take time and planning. When I see the message has sent, I turn the phone off again and lift up my second donut, smashing it into my mouth in a glorious haze of lemon and honey.
We got here half an hour ago – without Ryan who’s probably still sulking – and I watched as Lauren chose all my favorites and laid them on a plate. It was only when I ate the first donut that I realized I hadn’t eaten all day.
“Okay,” Sophie says after I’ve demolished the second donut. “We need to make a plan.”
Lauren rolls her eyes. “You and your plans.”
Sophie holds her hands up. “I’m a weather forecaster. I like to know all worst case scenarios.”
“Ava’s lost Dandy,” Lauren points out. “It’s not like she’s about to be hit by a tornado.”
Sophie ignores her, rummaging in her bag. She pulls out a pad and pencil then looks at me. “Let’s start with the worst things that could happen.”
I blink. “You want me to say them out loud?”
She nods slowly. “Honestly, it helps. You take it out of your head and put it on the paper. And then if you want to go the final step you put the paper in a fire and burn away your worries.”
“Ooookay…” I mean, it’s better than eating a third donut, right? “Where should I start?”
“What’s your biggest worry?”
It doesn’t take a lot of thinking for this one. “That I’ll lose my job. And my home. And I’ll end up destitute and pregnant on the streets. Then the baby will be born and he or she will either be taken away from me or hate me because I chose to have them and couldn’t provide for them.”
“Oh oh…” Lauren leans forward. “Maybe the Salingers will steal the baby from you. Bring them up in complete luxury. And one day they’ll seek you out and find you haggard and toothless on the streets.”
“That’s not really helping,” Sophie says, shaking her head. “Let’s circle back. Do you really think you’ll be on the streets if you can’t pay your mortgage?”
“Of course she won’t,” Lauren says. “She could move in with me. Or you, if she likes having her toiletries lined up like soldiers.”
“Or your mom,” Sophie says to me. I grimace at that.
“You could sue Myles,” Lauren suggests. “He’s independently rich, isn’t he? You could sue him for child support.”
“I’m not going to sue Myles,” I tell her firmly. “And anyway, he keeps telling me he’ll take care of me.”
Lauren’s lips form a perfect ‘o’.
“Well, that’s okay then. Your worst worry is never going to happen.” Sophie strikes through the words ‘be a homeless mom’ with a flourish of her pen.
“I’ll never take his money,” I tell them.
Lauren frowns. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want it. I set out to do this alone. The only thing I wanted from him was, well, you know.”
“His sperm,” Lauren says. “You know the problem with you?”
“What?” I ask.
“You’re too independent. You always have been. Remember our first day at college? There were all these gorgeous guys waiting to help carry our boxes up to our dorm room and you refused any help at all.”
“I’m perfectly capable of carrying boxes,” I point out.
But Lauren’s on a roll now. “Have you ever not gone Dutch on a date?”
“I…”
“Or let a guy hold a door open for you?”
“Yes!” I say triumphantly. “I have.”
Lauren looks me dead in the eye. “When?”
“I don’t know.” I frown. “But I definitely have. Anyway, I thought you were supposed to be making me feel better?”
“Would you let me if I tried?” she asks softly.
“What do you mean?” I ask her. I’m genuinely perplexed.
“You don’t like people helping you. You like being the one to help others. And that’s okay most of the time, until you hit rock bottom.” She glances at Sophie. “We’re your best friends. We love you. We just wish you’d let us help you.”
I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out. She’s right. I hate being helped.
“You’re a strong, independent woman,” Lauren says. “But even you need support sometimes.”
The thing is, I don’t know how to accept it. I feel like a failure. All of this is my fault. If I hadn’t been so busy wanting a baby and falling in love with Myles then I would have noticed something was going on. I would have talked with Naomi and she would have given me a hint.
Something to make me realize that Smith and Carson was at risk.
“We won’t let anything happen to you,” Sophie says, rubbing my arm gently. “We’re here for you. We’ll support you. You’ve taken care of us enough times.”
“She’s right,” Lauren agrees. “Remember when I ended up stranded at that guy’s place and you drove over to pick me up at three in the morning?”
“Or how you always stop and talk to those people raising money for charity when everybody else avoids them,” Sophie adds.
“But I don’t know how else to be,” I protest. “I’ve always had to take care of myself.”
“But you don’t have to now,” Lauren tells me.
My lip wobbles. My chest feels so tight I’m not sure I can keep breathing. I realize something.
I’m afraid of letting go. Of letting other people help me. I’m afraid that if I just relax something bad will happen.
Like Dandy being taken by New York.
And that’s when I realize something else. That I’m the same as Myles. We both substitute taking care of others for taking care of ourselves. It’s our love language and when we can’t do that anymore we don’t know how to show love.
Lauren stands and walks over to the counter.
“Okay, this calls for the big one,” she says.
“The chocolate popcorn caramel donut.” She brings out what looks more like a cake than a donut.
The top is iced in chocolate, sprinkled with caramel covered popcorn.
Flakes of white chocolate are sprinkled all over, and to finish it off she sprayed it with gold flecks.
“If I eat that I’ll die of a sugar overdose,” I say, even though my mouth is watering.
“You’ll still feel better in the morning than if you’d drunk a bottle of wine,” Lauren points out. “Anyway, I’m cutting this one into three. We’ll all have a piece.”
Sophie and I watch in awed silence as she slices into the donut and chocolate sauce oozes out from the middle. Lauren puts each third onto a plate and hands them to us.
“Do people eat this and survive?” Sophie asks her.
“They not only survive, they come back for more.” Lauren gives us a satisfied smile. “Go on, try it.”
Sophie’s the first to bite in. She lets out a low moan and closes her eyes. “Jesus, this is better than an orgasm,” she says once she’s swallowed it down.
“You’re dating the wrong guys,” Lauren points out. “But thank you.”
I’m the next to try the donut, and Sophie wasn’t lying. There’s something so perfect about the mixture of soft sponge and oozy chocolate, along with the crunch of popcorn. “How do you keep the popcorn from going soft?” I ask Lauren.
“That’s a trade secret.” She winks, pleased. Then she eats her portion and a huge smile pulls at her lips. “Ooh, this could be my best yet. How can you think the world is a bad place when goodness like this exists?”
I toss and turn in bed for hours. I’d blame the sugar rush that came from Lauren’s delicious donuts, but really it’s all the worst case scenarios that are still rushing through my mind despite Sophie’s attempts to coax them out.
When I was a child my mom told me that Mother Earth was once a person called Gaia. And that whatever happened to the world she would always try to bring things back to an equilibrium. That for every bad thing that happened, Gaia would make sure that at least two good things would cancel it out.
It was reassuring then, to know that good people always succeeded in the end. That Cinderella always became the princess, that Sleeping Beauty always woke up, that Belle’s love made the beast become the prince again, and she got to live in a palace full of beautiful books.
Belle was always my favorite. Maybe because, like me, she was an only child.
But I also loved her because she got to do things.
She didn’t have to sit around waiting for a pageboy to bring her a shoe, or for a prince to kiss her.
When she heard the beast was in trouble she ran as fast as she could over there and fought for him.
And when he was about to die, she saved him with her kiss.
I might be in my thirties, but there’s a part of me that still believes good people get good things. Or at least there was until today. Now I don’t know. I feel a bit adrift. Maybe this is what it’s like to finally grow up.
Just before four in the morning I hear the rumble of an engine outside. Then the car door bangs and I wonder if my neighbors have been out partying again. But instead of the usual thunder of feet up their stairs – which adjoin to mine – someone thumps on the door.
My door.
I hesitate, wondering if I really heard that. But then it comes again, and I hear shouting as well. And I know that voice. My insides twist up and I swallow hard.
My body feels heavy as I swing my feet to the floor and head down the stairs, not bothering to cover myself with a robe because this is Myles and let’s face it, he’s seen it all before. But I regret it when I pull the door open and I see he’s not alone, though.
Next to him is Liam, who lifts a brow at my skimpy camisole and shorts.
“Um…” I look from him to Myles. “What’s happening here?”
“Can we come in?” he asks gently. My heart clenches at the softness in his voice.
“I was asleep,” I say, trying to explain why I look so bad right now.
“I know you were. And I’m sorry.” Myles runs his hands through his hair. “But I need to talk to you.”
It’s only when he steps inside that I get a good look at him. He looks like crap, too. His hair is disheveled, there are dark shadows under his eyes, and there’s a day’s beard growth on his jaw. His clothes are creased and they’re never creased.
I get a grim sense of satisfaction from that.
“Ava.” Liam nods at me.
“Liam.” I nod back. “How are you?”
“Tired.” He smiles and there are creases around his eyes. But he doesn’t look anywhere near as bad as Myles.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask. “Or some food?”
“No thank you,” Liam says. “We ate on the way.”
In the midst of all this early morning chaos I’d forgotten they were supposed to be in New York. “Have you just driven here from New York?”
“Yep. No flights into Charleston until tomorrow.” Liam lets out a long sigh. “And this idiot was in too much of a fucking state to drive alone.”
“Oh-kay, so you drove back. But what does this have to do with me?”
Liam looks at Myles. “You should explain.” Then he turns to me. “Can I use your bathroom?”
“Sure.” I direct him to the one nearest to us, then lean on the hallway wall and look at Myles.
Once Liam is out of earshot, Myles runs his fingers through his thick hair again. I have to slide my hands behind my back to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. He looks exhausted and vulnerable and everything that’s not him.
But most of all he looks so damn gorgeous I could cry.
“I need your help,” he says softly.
That’s the last thing I expect to hear. “What?”
“I need you to come to New York with me,” he says. “In the morning.”
“But you’ve just come back from there,” I point out.
“Because you won’t answer my calls.”
I blink. “You drove five hours because I didn’t pick up the phone?”
He takes a deep breath. “Your friends wouldn’t pick up their phones either. Nor would anybody at Smith and Carson. Except Ryan.” He doesn’t blink a lash. “Who tells me that our baby should be named Damian and that if he ever sees me again I’m, in his words, ‘fucking toast’.”
“He was in a protective mood,” I say.
“So I gather,” Myles says dryly.
“Are you mad that he knows?” I ask him, because I’d be mad in the same situation. “I didn’t tell him. Not at first. He was just listening in when he shouldn’t have been.”
“I’m not mad, Ava. I’m exhausted and worried and so damn sorry you wouldn’t believe it. And I’m running the risk of losing my brother a lot of money.”
“Wait, what?” I put my hand up, slowing his words. “What do you mean losing Liam’s money?”
“It’s a long story.” He glances at his watch. “Can I tell you in the morning? I think I’m going to fall over if I don’t lie down soon. I just needed to see you for myself. I need to know you’re all right.”
My heart clenches. That good girl inside me whispers excitedly, telling me I could make everything better by telling him it’s okay. That I’m okay.
That the whole world is fine.
But it isn’t. Yes, he drove for five hours in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t only to check if I was okay, it was to see if I could help him.
Which is crazy because I have no idea how to do that.
“Yeah,” I say, too tired to question him further. “I’ll be better once I’ve had some sleep.”
He looks at me carefully, then opens his mouth as though he wants to say something. Then he frowns and shuts it again.
“Have you asked her about New York?” Liam sounds way too chipper as he walks back into the front hall. “Because we should go.”
“Are you going back now?” I ask, alarmed.
Liam smiles. “Nope. I want to go to Myles’ place and sleep on his nice comfortable guest bed for three hours before we have to come pick you up and do this all over again.” He gives me a careful look. “You will come, won’t you?”
I look at Myles. His gaze doesn’t waver for a moment. It’s set on me the way my heart is set on him. “Are we driving back to New York?” I ask softly.
Myles and Liam exchange a glance, and I realize I’ve pretty much confirmed I’m going with that sentence. Because I will go. I’m not completely sure why, but maybe it’s the fact that Myles has thrown himself at my mercy. He’s asking for help – something he never does.
“Yep, I’m not leaving my car here,” Liam says. “Not with the cum trees on every corner.”
I rub my eyes with my hands, wondering if this is all a donut-induced dream. “So, what time are you leaving?” I ask.
“We’re leaving at eight,” Liam says, putting emphasis on the ‘we’. “I’ll bring coffee.”
“Better make it decaf,” I mutter. “And whatever you do, don’t bring donuts.”