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My God, that woman will be the death of me. “Fine,” I yell, smashing my finger repeatedly on the button to end the call. “Have it your way, Ava,” I mutter, putting my foot down.
I pull up outside her office, double park, and march to the door, trying to wrestle myself into shape. I push my way in, giving no thought to what I will say and how I will handle this. I scan the space, seeing a desk up ahead, the chair empty. But where is she?
“Can I help you, sir?” a lady at the first desk asks.
“Where’s Ava?” I growl, and she blanches, blinking rapidly. She looks brittle, but I’ll be damned if I can get a hold of myself and this burning rage. The woman, I’m assuming the same lady I bellowed at on the phone, stares at me blankly, mute. “Where?” I yell.
“She left a while ago, sir.”
I stalk back out, getting in my car and wheel-spinning down the street, calling Ava repeatedly. And with each one of my calls she ignores, my anger amplifies. She doesn’t get to do this again. I send her a string of messages, and each time I click send, I think of something else to add.
I have been going out of my fucking mind.
Thinking unthinkable things.
I thought something terrible had happened!
But no. You’ve just got cold feet again?
No. You don’t get to do this again. I won’t let you, and you’d better get used to that and start rethinking how you handle what’s happening between us.
Not surprisingly, she doesn’t respond, and also not surprisingly, that only serves to piss me off even more. I screech up outside her flat and dial again as I stalk toward her front door.
“Hello.”
I stop in the middle of the road, caught off guard. She answered? “Ava?”
“Jesse,” she says, sounding rather calm. That’s nice. Here I am, hanging off the edge of a fucking cliff, and she’s all composed. Good for her. For fuck’s sake. “I can’t see you again,” she says nonchalantly.
Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.“No,” I say, trying to cool the burn inside. “Ava, listen to me—”
She hangs up. She fucking hangs up, and it’s infuriating for more than one reason. Because she’s scared. She’s scared to talk to me, to see me, because if she does, she won’t be able to deny our perfection.
I reach her front door and smash my fist into it. “Ava,” I shout, hammering at the wood. “Ava!” I reverse my steps and look up at the window, dialing her again. “Pick up, pick up, pick up.” My hand goes into my hair, pulling at the mess of blond. It goes to voicemail, and I stare at my phone in astonishment. “Ava! Answer the fucking door!” Why is she doing this? It’s exhausting. Enraging. Confusing.
Through my fog of despair, I hear the roar of an engine, and I turn to see Sam swinging into a parking space behind my car. He gets out, Kate in tow, and approaches cautiously. I throw my hands into the air. “She’s driving me fucking nuts,” I yell, pointing up at the window. “Will someone please explain what the fuck is going through her head, because the last time I saw her things were pretty fucking amazing?”
Kate throws Sam a nervous look, moving in, bravely rubbing my arm. “Calm down.”
I roll my shoulder to shrug her off. “What has she said?” I ask, pinning Kate in place with expectant eyes. “When she got home on Sunday, what did she say?” I can see she’s torn. “Kate,” I push, feeling fraught, moving in to make sure she can see my desperation. “I need to see her. I know she’s scared, but if I could just see her”—and touch her— “I can show her there’s nothing to be scared of. Please.”
She visibly deflates. “Fine,” she says, pulling her keys out and heading for the door. I follow keenly, using the time it takes Kate to let me in to talk myself down. I don’t wait for a second to figure out if I’ve succeeded. As soon as my path to Ava is open, I’m through the door and charging up the stairs. I can smell her, and I follow that head-spinning scent to the lounge, bursting in. And there she is, standing in the middle of the room in some skimpy shorts and a vest. I relax for the first time in days. She looks unimaginably beautiful, even with that look of alarm splattered all over her face. And, most importantly, she’s in one piece.
Unlike my heart, which is currently in a thousand shards of trauma. She’s okay. I’m not. My relief is quickly diluted by anger.
“Where thefuckhave you been?” I yell, knocking her back a step. I can’t stop myself. She needs to know where I’m at. Panicked. Stressed. Frightened. I’m being pushed to the brink of ... what? Drink? “I’ve been pulling my fucking hair out!”
She says nothing, just stares at me for the longest time, somewhere between shock and disbelief. What the fuck did she expect? I hear Sam and Kate approach behind me, and Ava looks past me to her friend in disappointment.
“We’re just gonna pop down to The Cock for a drink,” Sam says, hauling Kate out of the way and out of my line of fire.
I take in air, controlled and calm, my head tilting back.Calm the fuck down, Ward. You’re not helping matters.She’s silent, waiting, and I drop my head to find her eyes. “Does someone need a reminder?”
Her mouth falls open. She’s surprised? Shocked? Good. “No,” she yells, pushing me out of the way and stomping to the kitchen. I follow, watching as she viciously swipes up a bottle of wine and tips half the bottle into a huge glass. “You’re a complete bastard!” She tosses me a look that would hurt if I wasn’t already in fucking agony. I still flinch, though. I’m a bastard? I’m not the one who’s left her frantic with fucking worry these past few days. Where the hell does she get off doing this? What’s her fucking point? “You’ve got what you wanted,” she yells, and I frown. “So have I. Let’s not fuck about.”
I recoil. Swearing, drinking. Is she hell-bent on having me sectioned? “Watch your fucking mouth,” I bellow. “What are you talking about? I haven’t got what I wanted.” Nowhere near.
“You want more?” she asks, necking some wine. My jaw ticks as I watch her downing it like water, reckless and irresponsible. “Well, I don’t,” she yells. “So stop hounding me, Jesse. And stop shouting at me!” She takes another massive swig of wine. She’s pushed me too far. She has a habit of doing this. It’s like she’s found my buttons and can’t resist fucking pressing them.
