Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Trevor
Her head is perched against the couch cushion. Her flowery scent permeates my nose. Her sock-covered feet lay across my lap, and every once in a while, she’ll moan appreciatively as I massage them.
When she stops talking, I give her foot a tight squeeze. “Go on, read more.”
She closes the diary. “My throat’s getting dry.”
I move her feet and hop off the couch. “I’ll grab you a bottle of water.”
The past several days have been pretty fucking incredible.
At my request, she’s been reading diary entries to me every night.
I really like her voice. I really like a lot of things about her.
And although I’m still not exactly up for everyone telling me who I used to be, I find it fascinating to learn who Ava was.
Getting to know her again through the pages of her diary is enlightening.
Fun, even. And super sexy. Because her voice is, well… sexy.
Something changed on Friday when I slipped into her bed. Well, our bed since I’ve slept there for the past three nights. The next day, we had breakfast together, she went off to work, and I started working on my online certification stuff.
That’s how my days have gone ever since.
Breakfast with Ava. Recertification courses in the morning.
Learning what I can about the coffee house in the afternoons.
Late lunches at Goodwin’s. Walks through the park.
Even later dinners at the apartment. Listening to diary entries.
And the date. Jesus, how she looked when she bowled.
Her perfect ass as she tossed the ball down the lane.
Her sultry smile when she’d knock down a few pins and look back at me, giddy.
I think I had a perpetual boner that entire night.
All that, and it doesn’t even include the sex. The lots and lots of sex.
Like I said… pretty fucking incredible.
The best part: she isn’t trying to make me into something I’m not.
Not anymore anyway. I’m learning bits and pieces about the guy I used to be, but other than her reading me the diary, she doesn’t talk to me about our past. Maybe that’s why these few days have been so nice.
They’ve been easy. There’s been no pressure.
And because of that, I can feel myself changing in small ways.
Ways that make her smile. Ways that coax that sexy dimple in her left cheek into making an appearance.
For instance, the first night she read to me, I learned I used to give her foot rubs since her feet get tired after being on them in the shop all day.
The second night, I discovered peonies are her favorite flower, so today I went over to Gigi’s flower shop and got her two dozen of them.
Tonight, I found out she prefers baths over showers, and I vow to draw her one before the night is out.
I’ve come to realize Ava is not a hard woman to please. And for some inexplicable reason, over the past seventy-two hours, it’s become my mission to please her.
I hand her the bottle of water and reclaim my seat, pulling her feet back into my lap.
“There’s only one more,” she says after draining half the bottle.
“Really?” I ask. “But we were just about to get married. That was over ten years ago.”
She sets down the bottle and picks up the diary. “I stopped writing in it after we got married.”
I cock my head. “You weren’t inspired to write anymore?” Then I smirk. “Or were we busy having so much sex, you were just too exhausted?”
She rolls her eyes.
“Okay, fine.” I motion to the book then start another foot massage. “Read.”
“Dear Diary,” she reads. “This will be my last entry. You’ve been my trusted friend and most reliable confidant since I was thirteen, and for that, I thank you.
But I got married yesterday. To my love, my life, my soulmate.
And all these big feelings that I’ve been writing about for years, I’m now entrusting to him. They are for his ears. His heart.
“Because Trevor’s heart is so big. I knew it the day we met, long before he took my virginity and I called Regan to tell her every single detail.
She was crying. I was crying. I hope he never reads this.
He’d probably be mad that I shared such an intimate experience with my best friend.
But honestly, it deserved to be shared. Keeping something like that to myself is like finding the cure for cancer and not telling anyone.
“And yesterday, when I walked down the aisle toward him, I could swear his heart actually left his body, reached out for me, wrapped me up like a thick, warm blanket, and pulled me toward him.
“I didn’t have a father to walk me down the aisle. I didn’t even have a mother sitting in the front pew. And none of that mattered. Because he had become my family all those years ago in geometry class. And then his family became my family.
“Everyone always watches the bride at weddings. But, Diary, I really hope there were people who watched the groom yesterday. If they did, they’d know why I married him.
All his hopes, dreams, fantasies, desires, and wishes were all right there in his eyes.
They say some people wear their hearts on their sleeves.
If that’s true, Trevor’s was on his sleeve, his tie, his lapel, his belt, his pants, and his shoes.
And every bit of that heart was directed at me: the simple, shy girl who was still growing into her nose at the age of thirteen.
“Somehow, he saw past the nose. The shyness. The fact that I really wasn’t any different from any other girl at school. There was nothing special about me. Until him. He’s what made me special. Every time I’m with him, he makes me feel important. Do you know what a rare quality that is?
“I gave him my first kiss. My virginity. My heart. And now I’m giving him my life as I pledged to forever be by his side, even when we’re not physically together.
I’m also going to give him all these big feelings that I’ve given you over the years.
He deserves that. He deserves that and so much more.
“So, goodbye, dear Diary. Thank you for being here when I’ve needed you.
Someday I’m sure I’ll read the entire thing and either laugh at my overly emotional entries, or cry at our amazing love story.
Maybe it’ll be a little of both. Either way, it’s nice to know I have a record of things so I’m sure to never forget.
“Signing off now and forever, Mrs. Ava Criss.”
She closes the diary, quietly sets it on the table, and looks at me. She always looks at me the same way after she’s read it to me—like she’s not sure how I’m going to react.
Right now, I’m just processing. All of her entries are full of emotion, but this one… Jesus. I’m not sure I can even fathom how one person can love another as much as she claimed to love him. Me.
I gently lift her feet off my lap and slide off the couch then hover over her as she reclines back. I sweep a finger from the center of her brow down to the tip of her nose, then I kiss it. “I really like this nose.”
The dimple appears, and I bask in silent victory. Damn, I love her smile.
I take it one step further. “I’d really like to take you and your nose to bed, Mrs. Criss.”
Her chest heaves. Yeah, she likes it when I call her that.
And maybe, just maybe, I’m getting to the point where I like it too.