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“So why the fuck is she here? In fucking pieces?” Lacie shouts right in my face.
“I did something, and I need to explain to her why. I need her to know that it’s for her. It’s all for her…”
“What?” She looks at me utterly confused.
“Ava wanted Monroe, so I bought it for her.”
Chapter 26
Ava
“Damon’s downstairs.” Lacie sits on the edge of her bed, watching me as I stand in front of the long mirror on her wardrobe.
It’s no surprise—I knew he’d eventually come here. I thought it would take him longer, but then what do I know, right? At this point I’m asking myself if I know anything about Damon at all. The only thing I’m sure of is that I have his baby inside me.
It’s weird because I don’t feel as different as I thought I would feel. I don’t look different. I just know that there’s another human growing inside me. And it’s got a heart. Too small to hear or see, but it’s got one. It’s alive.
I pull the pajama top down and turn to her. “Okay.”
“He wants to see you.” Standing, she wanders to me. Her eyes flit everywhere like she’s hiding something. “You need to hear him out.”
“No. I don’t.”
“You do, Ava. You really do.” I can tell from the way she’s looking at me that she’s already spoken to him. She has that piteous pout to her lips she gets when she feels sorry for you. “Call him or talk to him through the door…I don’t know…just listen to what he says, and then you can make a decision you are less likely to regret.”
“The only thing I regret is…” Loving him. I can’t actually bring myself to say the words out loud. The thought is another dagger through my already bleeding heart. “The only thing I regret is letting him near me.”
“Babe…” Her arms wrap around me. Lacie is the closest thing to family I have left. Everyone else is gone. “Sometimes we have to do things that hurt us. But they’re the right thing because in the long haul…”
I look up at her, and she looks so sad, so very sad, and it’s got nothing to do with me.
“I’ll tell him to go away.” Lacie smiles weakly at me before walking away. “Food will be here soon.”
Following her out, I listen to her tell Damon that I’m too tired to talk today. That it’s been a long day for everyone, and the best thing is to sleep on things. She fields him as though she’s protecting one of her clients.
Not long after she’s gone into the shower, the food arrives and with it, a note.
The blocky all-uppercase scrawl is somewhat messy, like it’s been rushed. The paper has that faint woody amber scent that makes my pores come to life, and every part of me craves Damon’s warmth. And all I can do is stare and stare at my name written boldly and underlined like it’s the most important thing on that page.
“You’re not feeling sick, are you?” Lacie asks, taking the food from me, and I follow her into her kitchen. Her eyes flicker to the hand on my chest. “Are you going to read it?” She nods at the note I’m holding to my heart like it’s a salve to my pain. “You should.”
“He lied to me.”
“But you knew he was a liar when you let him in.”
“I thought…”
“You didn’t think—you wanted what Damon could give you, and you took it. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She sighs, handing me a plate with a slice of pizza, fries, and a burger. “Eat what you can.”
She grabs her own plate and heads for the couch. We sit in silence, neither one of us eating or really watching the show.
“I fucked Callum.”
Wait. “What?”
“I fucked Callum Warner.”
“Shit.” It’s all I can say to that without sounding judgmental.
