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I laugh under my breath, lowering to the couch again and leaning back, fucking exhausted. I glance down at my Rolex. I’m sure I said to Ava shopping at Harrods was pain free. Then why the fuck does every muscle I have ache? And my head. I blow out my cheeks and can’t even find the will I need to sit up when Ava appears in a lovely blue summer dress that meets my standards. I nod, she smiles, and returns to the dressing room, appearing a few minutes later wearing a spotty dress with longer sleeves. Another nod. Her cheeks are getting pinker, her hair wilder each time I see her. She’s knackered too, for very different reasons. A few minutes later, she’s appearing again, and suddenly I find some energy. The fuck? I look at the short gray thing with all the disgust I feel.
“She’s like a clothes horse, isn’t she?” Zoe says dreamily.
I ignore Zoe and give Ava my full attention. “Get it off,” I hiss.
For some reason, this amuses Ava, but she backtracks straight back into the changing rooms without protest. I give Zoe my attention. “Seriously?”
“Oh, lighten up. You sound like a dinosaur.”
I recoil, my stunned eyes watching Zoe follow Ava. A dinosaur? My disgust multiplies, as do the daggers I’m firing in Zoe’s direction. She quickly disappears, dodging them, and I get up, going to the nearest mirror. I sniff, turning my head, feeling at my scruff. Checking my dark blond for grays.
Nothing.
Dinosaur? She’s talking out of her fucking arse.
I hear movement behind me and turn, seeing Ava standing stock-still staring at the rail of dresses. “What have we got then?” I wander over.
“Oh, she’s got some fabulous pieces,” Zoe tells me, shifting the line of dresses along and popping another on the end. “I’m very jealous. I’m just going to get this all wrapped and bagged for you.”
“Jesse,” Ava says, as I watch Zoe prance off with my card. “I’m really not comfortable with this.”
I sigh when I feel her take my hands. “Why?”
She nibbles her lip, looking past me to Zoe, clearly torn. She wants to accept but doesn’t think she should. She’s worried about what people will think. She’s worried about giving people—no names mentioned—ammunition to substantiate their claims that she’s after one thing. It’s still really fucking insulting, like they’re saying I have nothing but money to offer a young, beautiful woman like Ava.
No, you have lies too.
I blink. And devotion. And security. And safety.
“Please,” she begs, looking at me with wide, pleading eyes, squeezing my hands. “I don’t want you spending all of this money on me.”
“It’s not all that much.” I pout, certain I look as disappointed as I feel. Ava breathes out, her gaze dropping, but her hands remaining clenching mine. I stroke over the backs with my thumbs, wishing she could get past her issues. She can be as independent as she likes. Kind of. Doesn’t mean I can’t spoil her. Doesn’t mean I can’t treat her like she’s precious. Doesn’t mean I can’t look after her.
“Just buy me a dress for tonight,” she says quietly, her eyes climbing back up my body and landing on mine. “That would be acceptable to me.”
“Just one dress?” One measly dress? It can’t be like this forever. She’s got to get comfortable with my money, or every day will be a struggle. “Another five dresses and you’ve got a deal,” I say, considering the fix I’m in. I have to please Ava, as well as Zoe. I can’t take back my promise of extortionate commission, and I can’t fall out with Ava. So I’ll negotiate for now, show some flex.
“Two,” she retorts.
I roll my eyes to myself. Of course she’d counter. “Five. This wasn’t part of the deal.” She said she’d let me spoil her. The fact I have is beside the point. She doesn’t know I’ve spoiled her, and the deal was that she wouldletme.
“I don’t care how old you are. Keep your silly little age secret.”
“Okay, but it’s still five. I’ve got to make a phone call. You go and pick five dresses.” At least the ones we’re taking today. “Zoe has my card. My PIN is one nine seven four.”
Ava’s eyes bug. “I can’t believe you’ve just told me your PIN number.”
“No secrets, remember?” Am I a complete cunt? I quickly turn and walk away before Ava catches my flinch.
“Youarethirty-seven,” she calls, sounding happy. Happy that I’m not older? “Your PIN number. You were born in seventy-four. You didn’t lie at all, did you?”
Exactly thirty-eight years ago on Monday. One year closer to forty. And the one woman I love is still on the right side of thirty, by quite some years. How the fuck have I been on this planet for thirty-eight years? And how have I survived them? I honestly don’t know, but for the first time in a long time, I’m really fucking happy I did.
I look back at the woman who’s changed me—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worst—blowing her a kiss, before leaving her delighted form and putting myself out of eyeshot.
I dial John. “What are my chances of not coming over this—”
“Zero,” he grunts, and my shoulders drop. “A few of the cameras have gone down.”
