Ava
I’m not sure what I expected to happen after they captured Al Khad, but for weeks afterward, I’ve existed in a bizarre state of limbo, waiting for something.
But nothing happens, and my life goes on as it did before that night.
The names and photographs of the servicemen killed in the raid were finally released, and none of them is John.
After a week of nonstop, round-the-clock coverage of the raid and the capture of the most wanted man on earth, even the news channels had to move on when there was nothing more they could say about it for now.
The United States government has refused to divulge where Al Khad is being held or what will happen next. Other than a ramped-up terror level and citizens on high alert against retaliatory attacks, nothing more is said about Al Khad.
I talk about the state of limbo with Jessica in one of our regular sessions. “Every time the phone rings with a number I don’t recognize, my heart stops because I think, is this it? Will this be him calling me?”
“So you still expect to hear from him?”
“Intellectually, no. But my phone number hasn’t changed. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that he could call me.”
“Do you hope for that, Ava? Do you want him to come back so you can be with him again?”
“No, I don’t hope for that the way I once did. More than anything, I want answers. If he’s still alive, I want to know where he’s been for all this time, why he never told me he might have to disappear for years, or why he would get involved with me in the first place if that was possible.”
I wipe tears that spill down my cheeks, infuriating me. I’ve cried more in the last few weeks than I have since I first told people about John. As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, Al Khad’s capture has been a setback for me.
Eric has noticed it, too, but he’s been nothing but supportive.
“Those are perfectly reasonable questions,” Jessica says gently. She’s always so incredibly nice to me, even if she still says things that are hard to hear. “Anyone would want those answers. You’re being far too hard on yourself if you think you’re unreasonable for wanting to know those things.”
“I’m worried about Eric.”
“How so?”
“This is really hard on him. He tries to hide it, but he’s afraid I’ll leave him the way his ex-fiancée did.”
“You’ll never do to him what she did,” Jessica says forcefully. When I first told her what Brittany had done to Eric, she’d been initially shocked speechless. “I hear a lot of awful things in this room, but that one is on a level all its own. He has to know that’s not going to happen with you.”
“I think he’s worried about other awful things happening.”
“Let me ask you this… If John were to call you right now and beg for your forgiveness, what would you do?”
“I… I don’t know. I’d be so glad to hear he was safe that I’d probably lose my shit.”
“After that… What then? Would you want him back?”
“I… No, I don’t think so. No. Definitely not.”
Jessica raises a brow. “You don’t think so? Definitely not?”
“It’s not going to happen, so what’s the point of looking at hypotheticals?”
“What if it does happen, Ava? You should probably have a plan in place for how you would deal with it.”
“It’s not going to happen. The only thing he could’ve been doing for this long was hunting down Al Khad. They got him, and still no John. There’s no point in playing the what-if game.”
She gives me a skeptical look but thankfully doesn’t pursue that line of questioning any further.
I leave, feeling out of sorts and angry, not at her but at John.
What would it be like, I wonder, to live a life in which the specter of John didn’t hang over every minute?
It’s been so long since I didn’t have to wonder where he is that the wondering has become like a part-time job.
I’m so bloody sick of it and sick of him and sick of the entire situation.
I’m tired of talking about it, which I’ve been doing a lot now that people know about him.
Camille begged me to tell my parents about him, which I did with extreme reluctance over Thanksgiving. My parents surprised me with their empathetic reaction.
“I knew something was wrong,” Mom said. “A mother knows these things.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t tell us sooner,” Dad said. “I wish we could’ve been more supportive.”
“You didn’t think to ask him about what he did in the military?” Mom asked tentatively.
“I was twenty-one years old and madly in love for the first time in my life. I didn’t know I should ask questions.”
I assured them there wasn’t anything they or anyone else could’ve done to make this situation easier on me. But I went back to the city and back to Eric the next day with my emotions further shredded by the confession I made to my parents.
After having a fun holiday with his father and siblings, Eric was in a great mood and helped to once again put me back together without even appearing to try.
Now we’re staring down our first Christmas together and got a huge tree for the loft that we decorated together.
We cohosted a Christmas party for our friends and family that was a huge success.
Miles came with Sky, who couldn’t look at him without beaming with happiness. Everyone at the office is talking about the change in him, and only I know that he’s found someone special. I love knowing something none of my coworkers know about the boss we all adore.
I asked him recently, over drinks after another long day on the publicity circuit, why he didn’t want anyone to know about his new relationship.
“I’ve been such a public face of the family group,” he said, sounding pained. “So many of them lost parents and siblings and children. People who can never be replaced.”
“Miles, no one who knows you will ever think that you’ve replaced Emmie. They know that’s not possible.”
“Still, I’m happy again in a way that isn’t possible for so many of them.”
“They wouldn’t begrudge you that, knowing how you’ve suffered right along with them.”
“Maybe not, but I’d still rather wait to go public with Sky until after the buzz about the lawsuit dies down.”
“That’s likely to take a while.”
“We’re not in any rush.”
I wonder if she feels the same way, or if she’s going along with what he wants.
On Christmas Eve, we’re invited to a party at Rob and Camille’s apartment, and I’m thrilled that they also invited Miles and Sky, who’ve unofficially joined our city rat pack. We do something as a group at least once every weekend, which leaves Eric and me a night to spend alone together.
I love being part of a couple again, and I particularly love sharing my life with Eric.
We’re all but living together in the loft, and he’s been making comments lately about me giving up my place and making it official.
But we haven’t actually made that decision yet, at least I haven’t.
Something is holding me back from fully committing to living with him.
Maybe it’s because the last time I moved in with a guy, it went so terribly wrong in the end.
Eric and I spend the afternoon wrapping presents and making love. At the last possible minute, we drag ourselves out of bed to shower and change for the party.
“Two hours max, and then we’re coming home,” he says as I pack up the appetizers I made earlier.
“What’s your rush?”
“Santa can’t come until we’re asleep,” he says with a wink. He’s wearing a red plaid shirt that would look tacky on anyone else. On him, it’s classy—or it is until he adds a tie with tiny Santas all over it.
“Did I know you’re a Christmas geek? That seems like something I should’ve been told before now.”
“Is my baby a secret Scrooge? Seems like something I should’ve been told before now.”
I adjust his tie and fix the knot before placing my hands on his chest. “Christmas has been tough for me the last few years. I’m hoping we can make some new memories this year.”
He hooks his arm around my waist and kisses me. “That’s the plan.”
We take an Uber to Rob and Camille’s and arrive at the same time as Miles and Sky. Everyone is in high spirits as we exchange joke gifts and drink spiked eggnog that goes down way too easy.
“Don’t get drunk,” Eric whispers in my ear about an hour into the party. “We have plans later.”
“What plans do we have?”
He kisses my nose. “I’ll tell you later, but lighten up on the nog.”
“Buzzkill.”
“We’ll see if you’re saying that later.” Against my ear, he says, “And P.S., that sweater is so sexy I can’t even look at you or I’ll embarrass myself.”
“This old thing?” I bought the white cashmere cowl-neck sweater on sale at Nordstrom, and this is the first time I’ve worn it.
His low growl makes me laugh. I do that a lot these days. For a time there, I had good reason to wonder if I’d ever laugh again, but with Eric, remaining dour is impossible. He’s so endlessly upbeat and optimistic and funny. I crook my finger at him.
“What’s up?” he asks, tipping his head closer so he can hear me over the hubbub.
“I just want you to know I love you, and I wanted to thank you.”
“For what?”
“Putting me back together this year.”
“Aw, sweetheart,” he says softly, “you did the same for me.” He brings our joined hands to his lips and kisses the back of mine. “Let’s get out of here.”
“It’s only been an hour.”
“I can’t wait anymore.”
“For what?”
“Come with me, and I’ll tell you.”
Perplexed by his mysteriousness and on fire with curiosity, I help him make our excuses. We take some major abuse from our friends and family about our early departure. When we’re outside, Eric puts his arm around me. “Let’s walk.”
I left the dishes I’d brought at Camille’s, so we’re traveling light on the way home. Though it’s cold, the air is refreshing. A light snow is falling, adding to the magical atmosphere.
“What’s not to love about Christmas in the city?” Eric asks, humming “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas.”
“I have to admit the festive windows, the greenery, the snow and the sense of expectation have been contagious.”
“I want this to be the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”
“It already is.”
He kisses my cheek and picks up the pace until I tell him to slow down because I can’t keep up with him. Shocking the living hell out of me, he swings me up into his arms and carries me the last block to his place, where he puts me in charge of doors and locks.
“Put me down before you pull something and ruin your holiday—and mine.”
“Not quite yet,” he says, carrying me into the loft and depositing me on the sofa.
He helps me out of my coat and tosses it with his over a nearby chair.
Then he gets down on his knees before me with the twinkling white lights on the tree providing the only light in the big room.
Taking my hands, he kisses each of them and then my lips.
“You’re the best thing to ever happen to me, Ava.
I’ve fallen so hard for you that you’re all I think about, even when I’m supposed to be thinking about other things.
There’s only you. Right when I’d given up on ever finding you, there you were at my brother’s wedding, so beautiful and sweet and everything I’d ever wanted. ”
Tears run unchecked down my face as I listen to him pour his heart out to me. I caress his face and hair and kiss him.
“I want this,” he says, “just this, you and me, forever. Will you marry me, Ava?”
“Yes.” I don’t hesitate, even for a second, to accept his heartfelt proposal. “I love you so much, and I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together.”
He leans his forehead on mine and releases a deep breath.
“You weren’t worried I’d say no, were you?”
“No, but I’m relieved you said yes.”
“You have nothing to worry about where I’m concerned. I’m all yours.”
We wrap our arms around each other and kiss like kissing is about to be outlawed. And when we finally come up for air, he gasps. “I forgot the most important part!” Reaching between the couch cushions, he produces a blue Tiffany box that he opens to reveal a stunning diamond ring.
I cover my mouth as more tears cascade down my face while I watch him slide the ring onto my left hand. “There. Now it’s official. I hope you like it. If you don’t—”
I kiss him. “I love it, and I love you. I can’t wait to be married to you.
” My sister and I will be married to brothers.
How fun is that? My parents will be thrilled.
They adore Eric. We can share our happy news in person tomorrow when we go to Purchase for dinner with my parents as well as Rob, Camille, Amy, Jules and Mr. Tilden.
Eric hugs me so tightly, I can barely breathe, but I don’t want him to ever let go. Then he joins me on the sofa, where we celebrate our engagement until the wee hours of the morning.
“Merry Christmas, sweet Ava,” he whispers before I finally give in to the pull of sleep.
“Merry Christmas, Eric.”
I fall asleep with a smile on my face, but I dream of a dark-haired, brooding soldier with intense blue eyes who chases me through a maze with no beginning, no end and no way out.