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Chapter one
Ava
Some people hate the traffic in Atlanta. I don’t mind it.
The two places I do my best thinking are in the car or in the shower. Today it’s a bit of both. I didn’t intend to take the day off when I woke up, but once the water started cascading over my neck and shoulders, it was like a wake-up call.
I’ve been in this Groundhog Day sort of mode for about two years. I would wake up, go to work, come back, have dinner, and a night of working across the table from my boyfriend/fiancé—depending on the time period—we’d occasionally get away or get out, but then it was the same the next day and the next.
I don’t have a problem with repetition. I depend on it in most situations. It keeps the anxiety at bay. However, I just feel like there should still be more chemistry, more things we enjoy together. As I was washing my hair, I felt this wave roll over me. I’m settling.
I. Am. Settling.
Who is that fair to? It’s not fair to him. It sure as hell isn’t fair to me. I hurry my shower along, so I can set my out-of-office notification for the day on my phone and email, then drive to Vince’s house before he can leave for work. What I feel the worst about is that he won’t see this coming.
Vincent Reece and I met in college. We ran into each other, literally. I was a cheerleader for the football team. During one of our home games, I was in the middle of a cheer, facing away from the action, I didn’t hear the play behind me until it was too late. Vince and the opponent he was tackling took me out.
I was knocked down, but not out. Both guys felt like shit. Vince helped me up, made sure I was steady on my feet, gave me a wink, and headed back to the huddle. Friends of friends connected the two of us at the after-party that night. We sat in the corner for about two hours drinking beers from red Solo cups, talking into each other’s ears.
I ended up going back to his house off-campus that night. He wasn’t my first, but I kind of wish he would have been. At twenty, we wanted all the same things, then and in the future. He got down on one knee while we were still in our caps and gowns. I didn’t think, I simply said yes.
He and I found jobs in the greater Atlanta area and made the move together. Vince came down a few months before I did. He’s the head athletic trainer at a Division II school and I have been working my way up at a public relations firm. I love the entertainment industry. When I was little, I wanted to be an actress. I would put on mini performances whenever I could. I would be the princess in the tower. I would be the girl taking the hand of a gentleman getting out of a horse-drawn carriage. I would be in the soap-opera-style love triangle with the bad boy.
I wanted it all.
The one thing holding me back was me.
My self-doubt and image anxiety had me let that dream go for the path I’m on now. I can still be around all those creative people, be involved in all those stories, but I can guide them from my side of the table. I have a knack for knowing what the public wants to see and what will grab them. I also have what some have called an alarming passion for making sure all my contracts are airtight and ironclad with all the bells and whistles, all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed. I think I’ve heard some call me the closer when I wasn’t supposed to be listening.
When Vince and I got to Atlanta, I was still in the process of getting to where I was destined to be, he dove right in and was top in the conference instantly. I knew it would take me longer. He just assumed I was happy with where I started. I was in the beginning, then I wanted more. There is nothing wrong ever with wanting more. One day I bit the bullet and asked to manage a new client on my own. My boss and the firm were, and continue to be, amazing about advocating for yourself and giving their employees a shot. I took my shot and hit the bull’s-eye.
Many people use advertising and public relations interchangeably. That’s not quite true. Public relations is about relationship building through all different kinds of mediums. Each client is different. Their personalities drive the approach. What works well for one, may not work well for the other. You have to really listen to what is said and not said.
For once, I’m applying that to my own life.
I don’t know what I’m going to say or do, I just know the conversation, no matter how hard it might be, needs to happen and happen now.
I use my key to enter the front door. The alarm is still on, so I press in the code to shut it off quickly. The house is quiet except for the sounds coming from the kitchen in the back of the house. The sizzling of the bacon and the pop on the toaster lead me directly to him. I place my purse and keys in the chair just out of his view.
“You want jam on your toast, babe?”
Babe? He never calls me babe. How did he know I was coming?
Just as I enter his line of sight, Vince looks up, only he’s not looking at me, he’s looking behind me. I turn around and there, frozen in the middle of the hallway to the master bedroom, is his assistant trainer, Melissa. She’s got a towel wrapped around her wet hair and she’s wearing only her lace bra and his boxers with the waistband rolled over.
“Oh shit,” are the words that roll out of her mouth. Vince is standing there with his mouth open, not saying a damn word.
“What the hell is going on here?” I ask.
Vince sets the griddle pan on the back burner, turns off the heat, and walks over to me casually like I just asked him how’s your day.
“Ava—”
I cut him off, “If you even think about trying to spin this right now, the bitch with the excellent right hook will come out in me so quick you won’t even have time to duck.”
“Maybe I should go,” Melissa says.
“You think? No, wait, you know what. Don’t go. Please stay. You’re going to need this.” I toss the house key I just used to get in the house to her. “I think we’re done here.”
