Chapter 2
Skylar
I’ve reread the same line at least ten times already, and I still have no idea what it says. Which is a problem because I’m supposed to be figuring out if there are any legal loopholes to get my client off with community service instead of jail time.
I can’t focus on anything other than how tired Ava looked yesterday and this morning.
I’m glad her mom could help her out, so she didn’t miss work, but was anyone there to help her with dinner or bedtime?
I curse under my breath. I should have ordered dinner for her so she didn’t have to worry about cooking or dishes. I should have just gone over there like I wanted to, but I didn’t want to impose on her.
She’s so stubbornly independent. When Ava was going through her divorce, she was adamant about doing things on her own. Other than me giving a recommendation for this job, she’s done everything by herself, and I couldn’t be prouder of her.
But she doesn’t rest. She barely takes any time for herself, even when the kids are with their dad. I’m lucky if I can get her to come out with me for a quick dinner once every three months.
Luckily, she doesn’t mind if I come hang out at her apartment and chat with her while she buzzes around and cleans or organizes. Sometimes, she even lets me help. Stubborn, perfectionist woman.
Ava Greenfell—with her freckled skin and hazel eyes, lush lips, and tinkling laugh—is the last person I should be fixating on. But how am I supposed to stop?
I take off my blue-light glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I’m so fucked up over a girl who’s not even into women.
My bleeding heart has been pining after her since I realized I was gay at fifteen.
She was the first girl I ever had a crush on, and I knew I’d either have to live with my feelings or risk losing her if I told her.
Having her as a friend and tucking my feelings into a box is better than not having her in my life at all.
Even if it fucking kills me when she walks around in her little sleep shorts and crop top with her chestnut hair messy and wild and her face makeup free.
She confided in me one night almost two years ago that she has a hard time loving her body because of the stretch marks and the way it’s changed with pregnancy.
She told me her ex-husband would make backhanded comments about how she looks different now and how she should find some time to go to the gym.
He may not be the worst man in the world, but he’s not great, either.
I wanted to tell her her body is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But I couldn’t say it.
So instead, I told her she should be proud she carried two kids and was able to feed them from her own body. She should view her stretch marks as a tale of her strength, a map which tells the story of growing her kids and helping them flourish, not something to be ashamed of.
Watching her confidence grow and seeing her become more comfortable in her own skin is like watching a flower bloom after a harsh winter. I’m honored she’s let me be part of her journey.
I push myself away from my desk, smooth the wrinkles on my pencil skirt, and walk out of my cubicle. I need to see her, even just for a minute. Even if I don’t get to talk to her.
When I round the corner to the executive offices and hear her musical laughter, my belly swoops, and my heart flutters. I love that sound. If I could record it and set it as my ringtone, I would.
But when I see who’s making her laugh, my stomach drops for a different reason.
One of the law interns, David, is leaning over her desk, giving her a dazzling smile, and she’s giving him one right back.
Ava smiles with her whole face; her eyes crinkle in the corners, and a slight dimple peeks out on one side.
I knew this day would come. I knew she’d start dating, and I’d have to watch her move on with someone else, just like I had to watch her go all googly-eyed over Shea. I had to listen to her gush and swoon over him, knowing she’d never talk about me that way.
Can’t blame a girl for hoping I’d have just a little more time.
I approach slowly, hearing the tail end of his sentence.
“—Saturday? We could get some drinks, maybe try the new sushi place over on University?”
When Ava sees me approach, her eyes brighten, and her smile widens before she turns her attention back to David. “Sorry, David. I already have plans this weekend, and my kids are home next weekend.”
David’s brows furrow as he glances over at me, then back to Ava. “Can’t you just get a babysitter next weekend?”
Oof. One thing about Ava: she takes her time with her kids seriously. She only gets a babysitter if she absolutely has to, and she’d never get one for a first date.
Poor David.
It’s only because I know Ava so well I can see the switch from a genuine smile to a fake one.
“I could, but I won’t. I want to spend the weekend with my kids.”
David sighs, clearly a little frustrated. “Well, what about the next weekend you don’t have the kids?”
“I’ll have to check my schedule and get back to you. Skylar and I have lunch plans, so I have to go. Have a good day, David.” Ava stands and grabs her purse, ending the conversation.
“You too, Ava. Skylar.” He nods at me before he heads down the hall to the intern cubicles.
When he’s gone, I raise an eyebrow at Ava. “We have lunch plans?”
Ava nods once, her short hair bouncing with the movement. “Yep. I’m feeling Moochies.”
I grin, of course she is. She’s a sucker for their mac and cheese. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”
With sandwiches and sides in hand, we make our way to one of the worn yellow booths next to a window overlooking the busy Salt Lake City street.
Ava pulls disinfecting wipes from her bag, wiping the booth before she sits down.
Then she grabs hand sanitizer and rubs it over her hands before offering it to me.
I take some, letting it dry before I open my sandwich.
“So, David?” I ask, even though I’m not sure I want to know.
Ava groans. “I don’t know. He’s nice and conventionally attractive, but he’s not what I’m looking for.
I don’t want another workaholic man who’ll ask me to quit my job or—God forbid—pop out more babies.
Plus, I’m pretty sure he’s Mormon, and I’m not interested in backtracking my deconstruction.
Not to mention he’s only twenty-four. It feels icky even if it’s only four years. ”
“Then you need to nip it in the bud before he starts getting more persistent,” I clip, a little harsher than I intend.
Ava must take it as my typical “no bullshit” attitude because she laughs. “You’re right. Like I said before, he’s not what I’m looking for.” Her eyes meet mine, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear there’s a flash of heat in them.
As quick as it was there, it’s gone, and she’s back to munching on her mac and cheese and not looking at me. The only indication what I saw actually happened is the slight tint to her cheeks.
Clearing my throat, I scoop up a spoonful of my own pasta before asking, “Are we still on for Saturday?”
Ava nods, but it’s not as enthusiastic as I hoped. “It can’t come soon enough.”
“Zoe still keeping you up?”
She sighs. “Yeah. I think she has anxiety about throwing up, even though the worst of it has passed. Every movement in her tummy makes her nervous, so she’s been waking me up every other hour to tell me she’s going to throw up but never does.”
My lips tilt down in a frown. She should be resting this weekend, not having me drag her out for karaoke.
“Change of plans, Aves. We’re not going out this weekend.”
“What? Why? I was looking forward to hanging out with you!”
Her outraged tone makes me smile. “We’ll still hang out, but you need rest. We’ll order food, make some drinks, and watch a trashy reality TV show.”
Ava’s shoulders slump. “You know me so well. That sounds perfect, thank you. I’m sorry I’m such a killjoy.”
“Aves, you’re not a killjoy. You’re a tired single mom, and I’m more than happy to hang out with you—whatever that looks like.”
Ava thanks me again before we dig back into our lunches, and the conversation shifts. By the end of lunch, I’m only slightly less worried about her than I was this morning, but when I get back to my desk I still can’t focus.
All I can think about is how fucked I am over my best friend.