This Woman Forever

Chapter 13

Friday is a slow torture. I follow my usual routine: run, shower, dress, drive to Kate’s, follow Ava to work, sit in the café, wait.

But today I’m restraining anger too, trying and failing to push back the hurt. I got home last night and stewed. Walked circles around our empty penthouse, revisiting every moment that’s led me to now. I scrolled through the endless photos of Ava trying to convince myself I’ve got it wrong. She has to care.

But she obviously doesn’t.

Because if she did, I wouldn’t be without her right now.

Ava leaves the office at one o’clock and walks to the nearest Starbucks, getting a coffee—cappuccino, no chocolate, no sugar. She drinks it on her way back. She leaves work at six, and I follow her to Kate’s and sit outside, contemplating knocking the door. Confronting her. She’s hiding, and I’m enabling her to. She can’t expect this space for much longer.

I’m about to get out of my car and knock the door when I see Kate pull up. I breathe out my disbelief when Dan gets out her van too. What the hell? I take my hand off the handle and rest back in my seat, my plan obliterated. I can’t storm Kate’s flat with Ava’s brother there. It will be carnage. Does he know Ava’s living there? Does he know she’s left me?

I clench my fist and push it into the steering wheel, starting the engine and pulling away before I give in to the urge to throw my weight around. My phone rings before I’ve made it out of Kate’s street, and I stare at the unknown number. Unknown as in, there’s no name assigned to it. But I know who it is.

“Jesse Ward,” I say calmly, feeling anything but.

“Why’s my sister at Kate’s again?” he asks. No friendly hello, or how ya doin’ from my shiny new brother-in-law. Standard. My arms straighten against the wheel, my jaw rolling.

“Why the fuck are you at Kate’s?” I counter. I need to bang some fucking heads together around here. Mine and Ava’s included.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Likewise.” I hang up before I fire some abuse and give my wife another reason not to take me back. Not that she fucking wants me or cares.

“Fuck,” I yell, hitting the steering wheel repeatedly. I’ve had enough. We’re going to dinner, and we’re going to talk this out. She’s had her space. If she doesn’t know by now if she’ll forgive me, I think that’s my answer. Not that I’ll accept it, obviously. But I need to know when to pull out the big guns.

I get back to Lusso,shower, change into some dark jeans and a white shirt, brogues on, and head straight back out. Determined. I stride through the lobby, my laser focus directed straight ahead, a clear sign to the hot, new, young concierge not to bother talking to me.

He doesn’t.

Sam calls me when I’m on my way back to Kate’s and, naturally, I wonder if he’s done another drive-by and seen Dan there. “Hey,” I say, tentative.

“Coffee?” he asks. Coffee to discuss what Dan’s doing at Kate’s?

“I’m taking Ava out to dinner,” I say surely.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he breathes. “So you’re just going to show up?”

“Yep.”

“Good luck,” he quips. “How’s Sarah?”

She cares.“Broken.” I frown at my phone when I see an incoming call. “I’ve got to go, Jay’s calling me.” I hang up and take Jay’s call. “Have you finally found some more CCTV footage for me?” That’s one mystery still in need of clearing up. Who drugged Ava? Which also reminds me, Steve hasn’t called. Did Juliette even tell him? I huff. Probably not.

“No, it’s a dead end.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jay. So I’ll never know who drugged my wife?”

“Wife?”

“We got married last Saturday.”

He laughs. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

“Then I’m even more surprised to see her here,” he goes on. “Did someone get you some chill pills for a wedding gift?”

My foot slams on the brakes just off Kate’s street. “She’s there?”

“Yes, she’s here.”

“At the bar?”

“That’s what I said.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Why don’t you know this?”

My head swells, the pressure getting too much. She’s out on the town? Drinking? Flirting? I’m killing time, annihilating myself over and over, and she’s gone out drinking? What is she doing, celebrating being single again? I pull my hands off the wheel and stare at them shaking.

“Ward?” Jay says, definitely wary.

“I’m on my way.”

“Hey, listen, I don’t want any trouble.”

“No trouble,” I assure him. Only anarchy. I drop the call and it immediately rings again.

“What did Jay want?” Sam asks.

“Ava’s out.”

Silence.

“I’m going to the bar.”

“No, Jesse. No, no, no.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Fuck it!” There’s a few bangs and crashes. “Wait for me outside,” he demands. “Do you hear me? Do not go into that bar without me.”

I snort, hang up, and put my foot down.

Jay lookslike he’s one domestic argument away from quitting. His big body fills the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes warning me as I approach. I know I’m not getting in this bar unless I can demonstrate complete composure, so I drag a smile from somewhere deep. I’m certain it’s got a psychotic edge. She doesn’t care. I laugh under my breath. We’ll see.

I reject yet another of Sam’s crisis calls and slip my phone into my back pocket. “Evening,” I say calmly.

“Evening,” he replies, just as calmly.

“Good night?”

“Quiet,” he says. “And by quiet, I mean there’s been no trouble.” His eyebrows lift. “Just how I like it.”

“Long may it continue.” Still calm. I haven’t a clue how I’m managing it.

“Don’t make me wrestle you out of here, Ward.”

“No drama,” I muse, laughing at my nerve. I can’t promise Jay that at all. I feel volatile. Unhinged. I pass him and stop just shy of the next door that’ll take me into the bar, breathing in some air and calm. The plan is simple.

Find out if she cares.

I feel someone brush past me, and I look to my right when a lady’s voice apologizes. Her eyes light up. It’s not an opportunity I’ll pass up, so I dig deep and unearth the smile that has always sent women weak at the knees, blasting her back with it. “No problem.” I look her up and down briefly, taking in the red dress, just enough for her to read into it. Her friends stop chatting behind her. It’s been a while since I’ve silenced a crowd of women with my smile. Or noticed that I have.

Casting my eyes across the group, I watch as each and every one of the women—all younger than me, I must add—breathe in their awe. I feel for my wedding ring with my thumb, spinning it, like a subliminal apology to my wife for what’s about to go down.

If she cares.

“Have a good night,” I say, walking backward slowly, giving them all a bit longer to take me in, before I turn and stride toward the bar.

I feel Ava before I see her, the left side of my body burning from her stare. Yes, here I am, baby. I briefly flick my gaze her way, seeing her at the bar with her friends. Looking perfect. Her dress on the ridiculous side of short. A glass of wine in her hand.

So she’s not only making the most of being single, she’s making the most of not being pregnant. It’s a double kick in the gut.

Breathe.

I drag my eyes away, edging through the congestion at the bar. “Water,” I say, my eyes landing on the optics on the back wall. How easy it would be to go down that rabbit hole. Chase away the pain. Escape. I swallow, ripping my eyes away, focusing on the barman getting my water.

A hand rests on my arm. It’s not Ava’s, there are no flames inside. Red nails. Dark hair. Darker than Ava’s. Her skin’s paler. Her eyes not as big. Her lips not at rosy. Her red dress more on the respectable side of short.

“What’s your name?” I ask automatically, turning into her a fraction.

“Selina.” She eyes the water being passed across the bar to me, obviously waiting for me to offer her a drink.

I look over my shoulder, just catching Ava with her glass to her mouth. Defiance. Doing all the things she knows will trigger me. I take my water and turn, leaning back against the bar, ignoring my new friend. Watching my wife.

She heads to the dance floor, and my eyes narrow, studying her, seeing her and Kate close, talking. Yelling? Then Ava is suddenly on her way back to the bar, ordering another drink. It’s hardly landed on the bar before she swipes it up and necks it.

Breathe.

So she does care?

“You didn’t tell me your name.” The woman beside me is doing her best to project confidence and sex. The red dress. I look down at it and see Ava on the launch night of Lusso. See the dress on the bathroom floor after I removed it.

She’s back on the dance floor when I look up, arms raised, her body flowing to the deep beat. Various men in her orbit are watching her. Vultures circling the meat.

Breathe.

Necking my water, I walk away from the woman at the bar, blocking out the men, focusing on my wife. There’s one way to find out how over me she is.

I move in behind her, seeing her moves slow as she registers my presence. Affected. It’s the answer I need, but I don’t stop there. Pulling her back to my front, I dip, latching onto her neck, feeling my heart kick for the first time in days. Yes, it beats, but it still fucking hurts.

Her backside pushes into my groin, my dick loads, and my senses are saturated by her in every way. Doesn’t care? Then why is she positioning her head so I can get my mouth on her throat? Doesn’t care? Then why is her body vibrating with need against me? Doesn’t care? Then why the fuck is she forcing every inch of her body into mine?

Doesn’t fucking care?

Like fuck she doesn’t care. So please, for the love of God, tell me why she’s been acting like she doesn’t. Tell me why she’s left me alone for days.

I stroke down her arm to her hand and clench it, leading her off the dance floor. My wife is about to get a stark reminder that she’ll never get over me.

I go straight for the accessible toilet and get Ava inside, acknowledging Jay’s warning before I shut the door and get to the business of reminding my wife who she’s married to and how passionate he is about making sure they stay married.

I push her against the wall, studying her as she breathes heavily up at the ceiling. I smile on the inside.

Mine.

And no amount of fight from her will prove otherwise. We both know it, as well as we both know I am irrevocably hers. I take her jaw and direct her face down, my need for her starting to get the better of me, every inch of me anticipating her. I release her face, my stare telling her not to look away. She obeys, eyes on me, as I seize her wrists and push them to the wall, my face close to hers, feeling her hot breath hitting my skin as I lean into her. I take her lip between my teeth and clamp down lightly, tasting her for the first time in too long. Her whimpers are drowned out by the loud music engulfing the small space.

She tries to kiss me.

No.

I dodge her mouth and wait until she’s retreated before I put my face close to hers again, my gaze penetrating. Desperate eyes. Desperate body.

Desperate.

“Kiss me,” she demands as I push her farther into the wall with my body and take my lips teasingly close to hers. She heaves against me, her heart thudding against mine, her eyes on my mouth.

Just a teasing brush.

She lunges to capture me.

No.

“Kiss me,” she orders through her teeth.

Not today, lady. Today I’ll fuck her until she remembers who the fuck she belongs to and where the fuck she lives. I move both of her wrists into one hand and stroke up her body until I have her neck in my hold. Her pulse pushes into my fingertips. I breathe in her face.

My cock pounds in my jeans.

But I will maintain control. I will not have her believe I don’t know what I’m doing right now. Her whimpers become more desperate by the second, and my satisfaction gets stronger. As always, I just have to get her in my hands to prove my point. She’s not fighting me off. She’s not protesting. I see her intention as her body rolls, her mouth coming at me. I move my head and slam my lips on her chest, pulling her dress down to get to the sweet spot, sucking, making sure the small bruise is revived before I turn her and push her front forward into the wall, separating her thighs with my knee, placing her palms against the tiles. She cries out. I don’t need to tell her what to do. I release her hands and they remain exactly where I put them as I dip and pull her dress up, taking in her arse, smelling her desire, as I undo my fly and pull out my dick. She won’t need much prep. It’s a good job, because I’m in no mood for accommodating her.

And to make my point, I strike her with a stinger of a slap across her right cheek when she sticks her arse out.

That’sfor leaving me.

“Fuck!” she yells, earning herself another on the other cheek.

That’sfor pretending you don’t care.

“Jesse!”

Now it’s time to scream, baby.

I get into position and guide myself to her pussy, slamming in fast. She yells, I grunt, and the room spins.

Maintain control.

Easier said than done when you’re balls deep in your wife after being deprived for five days. Fuck. Goodbye, control. I can’t hold back. Don’t want to. I thunder into her, watching as her hands grapple at the wall, her head thrashing, hearing her scream to high heaven. I pull her head away from the tiles by her neck, worried she’ll bang it in her delirious state, turning her face outward. Her eyes are drowsy. Her lips are parted. The blood in my cock starts to thump, my release looming. I have to kiss her. I can’t kiss her.

Fuck.

I slam my mouth on hers, tackle her tongue, moan, pump, sweat.

No.

I stop, panting, my shaft buzzing as I widen my stance, grip her hips hard, check her head, and start slamming her arse into my groin, my head falling back, my mind shutting down, just taking the pleasure. Taking it all.

Her body tightens, her yells become broken. I blow out air, chasing my release. Beads of sweat trickle down my temple, and I reach up to wipe them away.

Fuck.

I pull out and spin her, lifting her to my body and getting straight back inside her, leaning into her against the wall as I pump, clumsily kissing and licking her throat, tasting the sweat. Madness. Utter madness. But also inevitable after so long without her.

She shudders, screams, and I tip the edge, exploding around her, feeling her muscles clenching my cock as I come inside her. I’m out of control, out of my body, twitching, spasms shaking me, my knees quivering. Yes, the pressure has subsided, but the anger? No. That remains. She’s on a night out, in a dress she knows I would never approve of, and she’s drinking. All the things I hate. Leaving me wasn’t enough?

I sniff, pulling out of her neck.

She looks at me, gasping in my face, her hands going to my hair and hauling me onto her mouth.

And now she wants a loving kiss? What, does she feel worthless?

I get her off me, propping her against the wall, refusing to look at her as I sweep a hand across her pussy, collecting our desire and wiping it across her chest next to her refreshed bruise. She’s watching, confused, as I tuck myself away.

And then I walk out, taking a few breaths outside the door. Ava doesn’t want to be that woman to me. Drunk, easy, wearing a short dress. And she doesn’t want me to be that man. The man I once was. Lost in a bottle of vodka, no self-respect, fucking anything with a pulse. If our little encounter in the restroom is what it takes to remind her, then so be it. But still, it takes everything in me to resist going back to her and doing it all over again, but this time gently. Lovingly.

No.

I walk down the corridor just as Sam steams into the club, out of breath. He stops, looks me up and down, probably to check for blood. “I’m fine,” I say, going back into the bar.

“Have you seen her?” he calls over the music.

“Yes, I’ve seen her.”

“And?”

I wave for another water. “And... we cleared a few things up.”

The woman in the red dress appears again, coming in close to me, and Sam recoils, looking her up and down as she virtually sticks herself to my side. I pick up my water with one hand and, because I’m not done proving to my wife that she does actually fucking care, I put the woman’s arse in my other.

Sam’s eyes widen. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.

I could never explain, and I could never expect anyone to possibly understand. Not that I have time to even begin fathoming how to defend my actions. I feel a force, like a whirlwind, and Ava bursts through the crowds, the sexual flush gone, an angry one in its place.

“Oh, Jesus,” Sam breathes, moving back, getting out of the way, revealing Drew as he does. When the fuck did he arrive?

Ava looks pretty fucking lethal as she swipes the glass from my hand and drinks it. Checking if it’s vodka. Did she hope it was because that would explain why I just fucked her coldly like I’ve fucked every other woman in my life? I can only conclude it angers her that it’s only water when she smashes it on the floor before getting up in my victim’s face, screaming a clear and dangerous, “Fuck off.” I release my hand from the woman’s arse. No more action is required. The woman in the red dress retreats, leaving me at the mercy of my wife. I’m grateful. It’s time to get some things off our chests.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she yells.

Oh, and here she is. The woman who definitely cares.

I try to hide my smug smile. A little.

“Answer me!”

When she’s screaming at me? No. Stew. Fucking stew, just like I’ve stewed since you walked out on me.

I turn away, ordering more water and advising the staff there’s some glass on the floor, looking over my shoulder when I hear Drew release a despairing curse. Sam catches my eye, looking... what’s that look on him? Pissy? I turn back toward them, wondering what’s going on. Then I see Ava’s brother and it all makes sense.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” I say, spotting Kate hurrying to the dance floor.

“I don’t know,” Drew answers, his head batting back and forth between everyone, while Sam sneers at Ava’s brother. “I’m sensing some couple’s therapy is on the cards.”

“You dick,” I mutter, as Dan spots me. I hold back my snarl. Only just. He makes his way over, determined. Here we go. I haven’t got time for this. Where the hell is my wife? I push off the bar. Scan the crowds.

Nearly bite my fucking tongue off.

“What the hell?” I whisper, seeing her hauling some tall, dark-haired dude into her body. Then onto her mouth.

I double over to try and stem the pain in my stomach, my eyes on the floor, my body heaving. Did I just see my wife kissing another man? Nausea grabs me, and I look up, hoping I imagined it.

I didn’t.

I slowly unbend my body, standing up tall, watching as she virtually eats the bloke alive.

What. The. Fuck?

“No, Jesse,” Drew yells, practically circling my waist with his arms to hold me back.

I’m like the Hulk, my whole body expanding, the red mist not creeping up on me, but attacking.

I can’t stop it.

And no one can stop me.

I steam through the people before me, enraged, and grab him, hauling him off my wife and launching him halfway across the dance floor with a right hook that’s loaded with a week’s worth of anger and frustration. How the fuck it doesn’t knock him out cold, I don’t know. Trust my wife to pick the one man in this bar who’s as tall and built as me. Tactical.

The brave bastard comes back at me, taking me off my feet and slamming me onto the hard floor. I grunt, winded, blinking, feeling disorientated. This fucker has just kissed my wife. I roar and fling myself up, going back at him, cracking his bloody nose again before getting him up against the wall and finishing him off, sinking a knee into his stomach.

It ends the brawl, and he folds to the floor, coughing, his face a mess, and I sniff, wiping my nose, trying to control my shakes. Another epic fail. I need to leave before I kill someone.

I turn to find Ava but get tackled from the side and shoved through the crowds. “I fucking told you, Ward,” Jay seethes.

“I need my wife, Jay.” I search around me, seeing Sam, Kate, Dan.

No Ava.

“I’ll bring her out.”

I spot her standing on the edge of the dance floor, her face a picture of shock. She’s shocked? What the fucking hell did she expect me to do? Fall to my knees and beg her not to kiss another man? “Fuck you, Jay.” I fight him off and bowl through the building crowd, grabbing Ava. “Get your fucking arse outside.” Of course she struggles, yelling and kicking.

“Out,” Jay roars, fighting me as I fight with Ava. All out of patience—I can’t imagine why—he shoves me aside with force and seizes Ava. “I’ll carry her out if you remove your stubborn fucking arse.”

“Fine,” I snap, happy to let Jay take the punches, my face throbbing as I follow him out of the bar, watching Ava going loopy in his arms. Crazy. Her dress is riding up her thighs, her boobs not far from spilling out. Jay’s struggling to contain her, his hands slipping across her torso. “Keep your fucking hands exactly where they are,” I warn.

“Get the hell off me,” Ava screams, bucking and turning in Jay’s grasp as he walks her out calmly.

“Ward, how the fuck do you put up with this?”

I laugh dementedly on the inside when Ava looks at me in shock. “She drives me fucking crazy.” I overtake Jay, wincing at my achy jaw. “Be careful with her.”

The cool air hits me when I make it outside, and I’m surprised when Jay gives me a civil and calm goodbye. I think he must feel sorry for me. I feel sorry for me too. And Ava, because I’m about to lose my baggage in a really unpleasant way. My mood doesn’t improve when everyone piles out of the bar. Including Dan.

“Fuck off,” I bellow. “All of you.” I am not airing our dirty laundry in front of everyone, especially not her brother.

“You think I’m leaving her with you?” Dan says on a snort of disbelief.

Did that prick just fucking challenge me? With a shitty tone, a sarcastic laugh, and by physically coming at me? I lift a foot, clench my fists, suck back air... and place my foot back down.

Calm. Give me calm.

Taking Ava’s arm, I make my point in a way that doesn’t involve caving her brother’s face in. “You don’t mind if I take my wife home, do you?”

“Yes, actually.” Another step forward. Everyone needs to pray for Dan. “I do.”

“Dan,” Ava says on a rush, not fighting my hold. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Just go. All of you, please, just go.”

Everyone remains static—the only thing moving on any of them is their eyes. Even Drew and Sam. I know Sam wouldn’t mind ripping Dan a new arsehole, but I can see he’s concerned that I’ll go further.

“What the fuck do you think I’m going to do?” I bellow. “This woman is my fucking life.” I feel Ava jump in my hold, and Kate backs up. Dan, though? He flinches, although tries to hide it, but the steely fucker remains in place. I need to calm the hell down, the temperature of my blood feeling like it could burn its way through my flesh and have me bleeding out.

Ava pulls herself from my grip, breathing heavily, looking around the group. She doesn’t know what to do. So she takes the wine in Kate’s hand and knocks it back, grabs her purse, and faces me, her expression challenging. Every time I think she’s pushed all the buttons I have, she goes and finds another. I can’t talk. Can’t yell. So I give her a dark look I pray she takes notice of.

She doesn’t. “Don’t bother following me,” she seethes, matching my look as she storms off, giving me a little shove as she does. I can’t work out who’s fuming more right now.

I touched another woman’s arse.

She kissed another man.

Definitely me.

She just has to go one better.

The look Ava just hit me with, I pass on to her brother behind me, as well as everyone else. Leave us alone.

I go after Ava. She’s so obviously trying to walk in a straight line as she marches away. How much alcohol has she had? Too much. I frown as she moves closer to the curb, her heels wobbling. The headlights of a car make me shield my eyes, putting black dots in my vision.

Jake! Jake, get out of the road! Jake!

Bang!

His limp body catapults into the air.

And lands yards away.

No. Please, no.

I flinch, coming back into my body with a violent jolt. Jesus Christ. I move fast, grabbing Ava and putting her on my shoulder where she’s safe. “Don’t step out into the fucking road, you stupid woman.”

“Fucking hell, Jesse, put me down.”

“No.” Not on her fucking life, because, clearly, she doesn’t have as much respect for it as I do.

“Jesse,” she cries. “You’re hurting me.”

Hurting? I’m hurting her?

I put her down and check every inch of her. “You’re hurt?” I ask. “Where?” Wait, did she roll her ankle? Did I catch her somewhere when I picked her up?

“Just there,” she yells on a broken sob, smacking her hand on her chest.

Oh. Her heart?

“Join the fucking club, Ava,” I roar, thumping mine too, forcing her to take a few backward steps. I reach for her, missing when she turns and stomps off, this time less wobbly. The emotions are sobering her up. I fucking hate the sight of my wife drunk. Hate that we have only ever rowed when she’s been under the influence.

“The car is this way,” I call, going after her but halting when she abruptly stops. Then she turns slowly and comes back toward me. “I don’t like your dress,” I mutter when she’s passing me.

“I do.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t,” she screams, right in my face as she swings around. I hate that I know her so well. She’s predictable but completely unpredictable.

“You’re right!” I fucking hate it, and I hate us right now. This is not how it’s supposed to be, not after getting married. Not ever.

“Good,” she huffs. “Is that the only reason you’re pissed, or is it because I’m drunk, or is it because I kissed another man?”

Oh, hold me back. “All of the above,” I hiss. “But kissing another man gets the fucking gold.”

“You had your hand on another woman’s arse!”

“I know!” But a kiss?

“Why?” she snaps. “Getting bored of keeping it for just one woman?”

I recoil, injured. What the hell is she saying? “You fucking asked for it, woman.”

“Me?” she gasps. “How?”

“You left me,” I yell, trembling. “You promised you would never leave me.” She broke a promise. She left me. She came out on a Friday night wearing a scrap of material as a dress, drank in excess, flirted, and kissed another fucking man. Don’t tell me her transgressions aren’t topping mine.

Blinking, looking surprised, Ava takes a brief few moments to breathe. “You shouldn’t have taken it upon yourself to decide my future.” She walks on, back to wobbling again. John’s already schooled me on this. I denied a woman her choice. What I did was wrong. But, she’s not pregnant, and it’s a relief given how fucking drunk she is right now.

“For fuck’s sake,” I whisper, looking at the heavens. How did we get here? “You’re a fucking pain in the arse.” I catch up and pick her up, and this time she doesn’t fight me. “And I was thinking about our future.”

“Put me down.”

“I’m not putting you down, lady.” I stride to the car, feeling her becoming heavy and limp in my arms. Out of fight.

I get her in the passenger seat and secure her belt. “This fucking dress is fucking ridiculous.” And it’s going to meet my scissors as soon as we’re home.

Starting the engine, I pull out and turn onto the main street, seeing Kate still outside the bar with Dan, a good few meters between them. The atmosphere between them looks as thick as it feels in my car. Kate’s arms are folded over her chest, her body language not looking good for Dan. But Sam’s nowhere to be seen.

I check Ava, tapping the steering wheel, wondering what to say. I’m not sure anything will benefit the situation. She’s not thinking straight. There’s a man back there nursing a bruised body and a bruised ego to prove it. I grimace at the state of my shirt.

One for the bin.

I drive calmly, wondering if she’ll speak. Condemn me. Yell at me some more, hit me. The bright lights of a billboard shine into the car when I come to a stop at some lights, and I press my palms into the wheel, bracing my arms, taking in a long breath. “I love you, Ava,” I say to the world outside my car. “With my fucking heart and soul, I love you so much.” I press my lips together, facing her. She’s staring out of the window. “Will you ever understand how much?”

She doesn’t answer, so I gingerly reach for her face, turning her toward me.

Her eyes are closed. Too much drink. Too much drama.

“No,” I answer for her, sighing. “You couldn’t possibly.” A horn sounds behind me, prompting me to pull off, the lights now green. “I don’t know what tonight was all about,” I go on, talking to myself. “But it was below the belt.”

Worse than you stealing her pills?

“Oh.” I laugh. “You chose now to join the party?” I ask. “Where have you and your shitty sense of humor been the last week while I’ve been alone?”

Observing from afar.

“How good of you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ava slurs.

I flinch and look across the car, finding drunken eyes squinting at me. “Never mind,” I mutter. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

I roll my eyes, silently asking my dear brother how to deal with this.

Are you kidding? I died before I had the pleasure of a dramatic female to contend with. Thank God.

I laugh but quickly stop, checking Ava. She’s closed her eyes again. “Not tired?” I ask. “No, but totally shitfaced.” Returning my attention to the road, I frown. Thank God. “Are you saying I should walk away?”

Did you hear me say that?

I hum, smiling a little. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?”

Yeah, bro. And you’re two handfuls.

“She kissed another man.”

You fucked her like she was just another lady of The Manor.

I wince.

Stole her pills.

Another wince.

Felt another woman’s arse.

“Okay, enough.”

“No, actually, I’ve had enough,” Ava mumbles, coming alive again.

I sigh. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m not fucking tired.”

“Okay.” She’s fighting to keep her heavy eyes open. “You’re a case, Mrs. Ward.”

“Well, you’re a nutcase.”

I hear Jake rolling around on heaven’s floor, laughing his tits off. She’s got spirit, bro.

I laugh with him and relax back in my seat.

You’ve not been out on your bike recently. Are you forgetting about me?

“Never.”

Wish I could ride with you, Jesse.

I smile sadly. He never got to experience the thrill. “Me too, Jake.”

I don’t hear from my brother for the rest of the journey. But I hear him.

Don’t waste a moment.

I’mglad to see Clive back at his spot behind his desk. Not so glad that I’m once again carrying Ava into Lusso because she’s in no fit state to walk. His shock is clear, and I definitely sense disappointment. Yes, she’s in a shocking state. Yes, I’m disappointed too. Clive and I share the same values.

He grabs something off the counter and comes at me, holding whatever he’s picked up out. It takes a moment for the penny to drop. Keys. Keys for Ava’s nice, new, sparkly car. Not that she deserves it.

“It was delivered earlier,” he says. “Very nice indeed.”

“Thanks, Clive.” I hold my hand out under Ava’s legs, accepting them. He offers to help, but I politely decline. I get Ava inside the elevator and look down her body as the doors slide closed. “Fucking dress is ridiculous.”

“I can walk.” She springs to life in my arms, wriggling like a manic worm.

I seriously doubt she can, but I’m done arguing. Exhausted. So I place her on her feet and watch her, hands braced ready to catch her, as she pulls at her dress. She can pull to her heart’s content. It will never cover enough of her.

As soon as the elevator opens, she takes measured, careful strides to the door, me following. “So stubborn,” I mumble. “Defiant. Difficult.” She ignores me, going into her bag and pulling out the keys, guiding the right one to the lock. I exhale heavily as she fiddles and faffs, trying to get it in. We’ll be here all fucking night. “Let me.” I brace myself for her rejection, taking her hand and helping. I get no thanks. And now she’ll go upstairs and put herself in the wrong bed.

I follow one of her heels as it gets kicked across the floor, then the other, before she paces away, taking the stairs as I throw my keys on the side table and put the ones for her new car in the drawer. Her body sways as I go after her, putting myself a few steps behind, palms up ready to stop her falling. It’s a miracle, but she makes it to the top upright. And as predicted, she turns right instead of left and goes to the last bedroom. The one farthest away from the master suite. From me. “You never disappoint, darling,” I say sardonically, following. The door slams in my face, forcing me to take a minute and a few deep breaths. No more arguing.

Letting myself into the guest room on an exhale of exasperation, I find she’s spread-eagled on the bed, unconscious again. I walk to the edge and stand over her, shaking my head. I’ve been here, drunk, sparko, fully dressed—mostly not—many times. It didn’t feel good on me. It doesn’t feel good on my wife. But she’s home, and my heart is beating calmly rather than limping along in dull thuds. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring but she’s here, and it’s a start.

I begin to get her out of her dress, negotiating her limp, unresponsive form, peeling the nonexistent material from her body. “Let’s get rid of that.”

“Aaarrre youuuuu g... g... going to cuuuut it tooo piec... iec... ieces?”

I laugh in disbelief at the state of her. “No.” I’m done annihilating things today. “I might not be talking to you, lady.” I heave and grunt as I wrestle her to the side of the bed, getting my arms under her back and legs. “But I want to be not talking to you in our bed.” Where I’ve not slept for five fucking nights all alone.

She slumps into my shoulder on a sleepy, drunken sigh, her legs dangling as I walk her back to the master suite. I place her down and watch, half amused, half staggered, when she flops down, conked out. I get out of my blood-stained shirt. “We’re having a serious conversation on acceptable levels of retaliation,” I say to her useless form. “There will be no shouting either.” I kick my shoes off and reach down to pull off my socks. “We need a holiday.” Slipping my hand into my pocket, I pull my phone out and place it on the bedside table. “No arguments on that either.” Getting out of my trousers, I crawl up the bed, my nose wrinkling at the stench of wine. “Come here.” I tug her close, feeling her body pushing closer to me. Instinct. And to have her back in my arms, whether she’s talking to me or not, feels like the best kind of reprieve.

I look down at her head. “Ava?”

She mumbles a croaky, “What?”

“You make me crazy, lady.”

“Crazy in love?”

I smile mildly, planting my face in her hair and breathing her into me. Breathing life into me. “That too.” I don’t know how a woman can make me crazy but calm me at the same time. Honestly, I just don’t know. “So fucking crazy in love.” I feel her become heavy again, leaning on me. “Let’s not do this week again,” I whisper. “Promise me.”

Of course, she doesn’t reply, and when my phone rings, I scramble to shut it up, answering on a hushed. “Hello?”

“Still alive?” Sam asks.

“Yeah.”

“And Ava?”

“Alive, although I’m sure she’s going to feel dead in the morning.” Her hangover isn’t going to be pretty. “Where are you?”

“At The Manor.”

Do I ask if Kate’s with him?

“Alone,” he adds, as if reading my mind.

“Oh.” So he’s getting on with his life, is he? I’ve heard it before. “Listen, mate, I think Dan’s just fucking with her head.” Ava’s brother strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t like losing.

“Yeah, and I’m done with her fucking with mine.” Hence, he’s at The Manor alone. But will he play? I check my phone when another call comes in. “John’s calling me. Mind if I take it?”

“Sure, talk tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I hang up and answer. “John?”

“Where are you?”

“With Ava.”

There’s a slight, surprised pause. “We need to talk.”

My back naturally straightens, and I check Ava. If she was awake, she’d hear every word down the line. But she’s not. “About...”

“Having Sarah back at The Manor.”

I blow out my cheeks. “John, so much has happened.”

“And she’s not entirely to blame.”

I raise my eyebrows but don’t counter. Because he’s right. Ava still doesn’t know all of me. All of who I am. If she did, I wouldn’t be so fucking worried about what Sarah will spill. “I’m not sure I can make that happen, John.”

“I can’t find shit, Jesse.”

“What are you looking for?” Like I’d be able to tell him.

“Contracts, medical records. I’ve had all the paperwork out.”

“There must have been a system.”

“If there was, only Sarah knew it. Ava’s not unreasonable. Will you just talk to her?”

I look down at my wife. Not unreasonable? I don’t know if I can agree. “I’ll come over on Sunday. We’ll talk.” Now is not the time to talk to Ava about Sarah. Neither is tomorrow. Or... ever.

“Okay.”

I chew my lip a little. “How is she?”

“A shell.”

I’m wincing all over the place tonight. A shell because her purpose has been taken away, and I’m the only one who can give it back to her. Problem is, I’m not sure Sarah has the strength to only accept what I’m willing to give and not try to take more. I can’t risk her succeeding in her attempts to break me and Ava. Or has she finally learned her lesson? Finally accepted there never was and never can be anything between us? And what really confuses me is the fact that John is looking past his understandable anger at me to call about getting Sarah reinstated at The Manor. Can or should I even consider that? “I’ll see you Sunday.”

He cuts the call and I drop my phone to the bed.

“Who was that?” Ava mumbles, pushing her face into my chest.

“John.”

“Is he mad at me?”

“He’s mad with both of us, baby.”

“Me too,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for kissing another man.”

“And I’m sorry for fucking you like you were just another lady of The Manor.”

“I’m the Lady of The Manor,” she slurs. “And you’re the Lord.”

I can’t smile. I want to be her Lord. Not the Lord.