“Hey, Ava.” She sighs and takes a few seconds to blow her nose. I can tell she’s been crying. “I think you already heard the news about Tony.”
“Yeah, Emily told me,” I blurt out and then have a mini panic attack because I don’t know if she has spoken to Emily yet.
“What happened to him is so sad. He was such a kind soul andso young…he didn’t deserve to go like that. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I’ll be closing the bar this week, possibly next week, too. It just doesn’t feel right to entertain people while we’re mourning. His mom was a very good friend of mine. I saw Tony grow up and become a wonderful man.” She heaves out another weighted sigh. “I’ll be helping her with everything she might need. I’ll let you know when the funeral is; maybe you’ll want to come.”
“Thanks for letting me know. Of course, I want to come. Tony has become a very good friend in the short time I’ve known him.” My voice breaks, and I bite my lip, sniffling, a fresh curtain of tears blurring my vision. “Please let me know if you need any help.”
“There’s no need, we’ll handle it. I’ll let you know about the funeral. Bye, Ava.”
“’Kay, Marnie. Bye.”
A mournful sob leaves me as I press my trembling hand to the center of my heaving chest. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, but it only makes it worse because in the darkness, I see the rogue tearing into Tony again and again in vivid detail, his helpless body torn to pieces on the blood-soaked ground. I was so wrapped up in Logan I pushed Tony’s horrible death into a corner of my mind and then labeled it ‘Later.’ It was deliberate, of course. I just couldn’t deal with it, so I thought that maybe if I kept it there, it wouldn’t hurt as much…later, but now I feel as if my lungs are collapsing and my already shattered heart is being stomped all over by an elephant.
The dam breaks, and I start ugly crying again for the umpteenth time today. I thought I had a broken heart before the transplant, but it’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling right now.
“What the fuck? Who was that? Why are you crying again?” Chloe asks, alarmed, from beside me.
“My f-friend T-tony. H-he’s…he’s dead.”
She hugs me tightly. “Holy shit, Ave, I’m so sorry.” She tightens her hold, placing a kiss atop my head. After I calm down, she pulls back and looks into my eyes. “We’ll hole up in my room and order everything they have on the menu for room service. We’ll pig out and do a movie marathon. How does that sound?”
I wipe at my tear-streaked cheeks and offer her a half-smile that I bet looks more like a grimace. “Like heaven.”
29
Ava
Two days later, hunched over the bathroom counter and looking into the mirror, which I’m sure cost more than the entire sum of furniture in my small apartment, I line my waterline with a waterproof black kohl and then do the sharpest wing I can manage with my puffy eyes. Even with the thick layer of makeup, I still look like I’ve been crying for two days straight. Well, at least I tried.
Chloe convinced me to go to the band’s show tonight, and we were supposed to get ready together, but Knox came into the room asking if he could speak to her privately an hour ago, and judging by the loud moans and grunts that I’m currently trying to drown with the blasting music in my earbuds, their talk escalated to fucking. I can’t blame them, though. Chloe spentevery second since we left my apartment holed up with me in one of the many bedrooms of the royal penthouse suite.
“Harder, Knox. Please!” Chloe’s desperate whimper travels through the thin wall.
“So greedy today, kitten,” Knox rasps.
After a few minutes, Chloe’s voice booms again, “Yes. Yes! Oh, aaah, I-I’m gonna come.”
Aaand I’m going to throw myself off the balcony if I have to hear them fucking one more time. But sure enough, after a few minutes, they start again. You would think Knox wouldn’t spend so much energy before a show since he usually plays the drums like he’s possessed. This is, for sure, one of those moments I wish my hearing wasn’t supernatural. I really didn’t want to find out how my best friend sounds during an orgasm. I can’t unhear it now. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy she’s getting some. I just don’t want to witness it on such a personal level.
With a light dusting of powder on my nose, I finish my makeup, take off my robe, and get out into the bedroom to look through the clothes Chloe packed for me and see if I can find something decent to wear. Knowing her, she probably packed a few outfits in the eventuality that I would decide to go to the concert after all.
When I step over the threshold, I slam into a wall of cinnamon and something spicy. I whip my head toward the luxurious teal armchair in the corner near the door to lock, involuntarily, with hazel eyes.
Mierda.
I was so distracted by trying to drown my best friend’s sex noises with music that I didn’t notice Jude coming into my room. I take out my earbuds. “What are you doing here?” I hiss, heat crawling up my neck and blazing in my cheeks with the realization that I’m only wearing a lacy thong and a push-up bra. At least I don’t have on my period panties like that night Loganundressed me and put me to bed. It seems like all that happened a lifetime ago.
Jude gives me a lopsided grin, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes. “I wanted to see you, Ava.” He’s as breathtaking as ever, decked in all black, the tattoos on his corded forearms catching my eye as he leans forward in the armchair, resting his elbows on his knees. “And what a sight.” Licking at his lower lip, his eyes travel over my body in a slow perusal from my toes all the way to my breasts and stay there.
I arch an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you remembered my name. I thought for a second there you were going to call me gorgeous,” I say dryly, duck into the bathroom, and hastily put the bathrobe back on.
His footsteps reach my ears before he appears at the bathroom door. “Hardy har har.” He leans on the door frame with a grin that’s all teeth. “You do look gorgeous,” he purrs, his voice as smooth as I remember, though this time, my body doesn’t react in any way to it. There’s no spark…nada.
I roll my eyes and push past him into the bedroom, plopping down on the pristine white bed with the silky eight-hundred-thread sheets. “What are you doing here, Jude?” I ask him again, my tone calmer now that the shock of him being in the same room with me has worn off. I knew I would have to face him eventually, it’s his band’s penthouse and concert after all. I just hoped I would manage to keep avoiding him.
He sits next to me and tilts his head. “I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I am for that night on the bus,” Jude says, lifting a shoulder, his kaleidoscope gaze turning serious.
“I got the flowers and the card you sent, so I got the message.”
