Chapter Sixteen #2
I nod. “Yeah. I’d really like that. Maybe we could be friends? I admit, I don’t have that many.”
She grins. “Well, if you do have any alpha friends, send them my way. I’m not getting any younger. But yes, I’d like that very much.”
I see her safely into a ride share and then take a deep breath of cool air. I need to clear my head. It’s early enough; I think I’ll just walk until I get tired. Catch a cab or the subway from wherever that may be.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I snatch it out quickly. I groan when I see that it’s just Brad about an upcoming case. I knew it wouldn’t be Ava, but I’d still been hopeful.
As I walk, I consider what Adam said yesterday. How he’d wondered what could be holding Ava back. With my conversation with Marnie fresh on my mind, I have to wonder—is it because she thinks our morals are misaligned? Does she believe the campaigning bullshit?
Have I ever given her a reason not to?
I blow out a frustrated breath. Even if that’s the case, it doesn’t make it any easier to be shut out. If she’d have just talked to me, maybe we both would have realized some things.
I want more from her than I’ve allowed myself to admit. I want the nights where we fall asleep in each other’s arms and the relaxed mornings afterward. I want to fight over the Times crossword. I want to make love in the sunlight and then take a midday nap.
I don’t know how much longer I can keep waiting around for scraps.
Every time I get even a little too real, she bolts.
And yeah, I’m starting to get a sense that I might have given her a reason for that.
But does that change anything? She hasn’t bothered to ask me, so would she believe me if I explained?
And what if that isn’t it at all? What if she just genuinely doesn’t want more from me? What if she genuinely can’t open up to anyone? I don’t know her past; there could be deeply rooted trauma there. She won’t let me in enough to find out.
I growl in frustration.
I’m so tired of this.
I shove my hands in my pockets and just focus on moving my feet, heading toward the Brooklyn Bridge.
All around me there are scenes of normalcy, reminding me that life continues whether Ava and I get our shit together or not.
The smell of fresh bread from a shop on the corner.
The echo of a saxophone spilling out an open apartment window.
I pause at a crosswalk. The light flashes green for me to walk, but I remain rooted in place, watching the wind whip a plastic bag down the street.
My thoughts are full of her. How she looked yesterday in my shirt with her hair piled in a messy bun.
The softness of her lips against mine, the warmth of her skin beneath my palms—and then the coldness at the rink later when she’d shut me out.
The blaring of a horn makes me jump back onto the curb and realize the light turned green.
A yellow cab tears past, the driver leaning out just enough to flip me off and yell for me to fucking pay attention.
Cold street water splashes up onto my jeans.
I grimace and, out of habit, flip him off right back.
You’d almost think I was born here.
I turn down a quieter street lined with brownstones, some of the stoops dotted with giant bunnies and other Easter décor.
Kids’ chalk drawings scribble across the sidewalk: rainbows, crooked hearts, lopsided cats.
The sight tugs at me, and it makes me think of Jess and Ayden.
Maybe I need to go home for a visit. Get away from all of this for a bit.
I pull my phone out again, debating on calling Jess to chat, but I remember it’s Sunday night and she’s probably at church.
We aren’t a very religious family, but there aren’t many other opportunities for community in a small town.
My thumb hovers over Ava’s name in my contact list, and for a second I imagine calling.
Just telling her everything. All of the confusion, the wanting, and how she’s been under my skin since the first time we met.
But I don’t. Because what if she doesn’t answer? Or worse, what if she does and she tells me to leave her the fuck alone?
I shove the phone back in my pocket and keep walking.
I end up at the river without realizing how far I’ve gone.
The water’s black in the fading light, dotted with glints of orange and yellow where the lights from surrounding buildings hit.
I lean against the railing, the metal cool against my forearms, and stare out at the skyline.
Manhattan rises across the water. There are some tourists lingering on the bridge, snapping pictures for their scrapbooks and social media.
I’ve always wanted to do touristy things, but felt silly doing them alone. Ava’s a native. Would she be willing to do those things with me? I don’t know the answer. In some ways, I can tell you everything about Ava Kendrick. Other times, I don’t think I know her at all.
This should be easy. Two adults with off-the-charts chemistry taking the time to see if maybe, just maybe, they could fall in love.
Because ultimately, I think that’s what I want.
Real communication, real access to her life, the real her.
Not the ice queen or the viper. Not even my sweet cereus that only blooms for me at night.
I want it all. I want to date her. Hell, I’d probably marry her if she gave me half a chance.
A decision is forming. No more half-measures; I’m done waiting. I’ve left this in her court long enough.