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I stare at her, annoyed, powerless, scared. “I agree. Open the door.” We both lift a hand in turn and reach for the handle, but Ava retracts hers, and I frown. What now?
“I’m going out with Kate later,” she declares with a strong voice.
“What?” Don’t tell me she’s going to harness this power for as long as it takes for her to get every little thing she wants while I sacrifice every big thing I want?
“Last night, I told you that I was going out with Kate.”
“And?” She was pissy. She said all kinds of things she didn’t mean, all meant to rile me or hurt me. I assumed that was one of them. “Open the door.”
“You can’t stop me from seeing my friend,” she says. “If I’m going to marry you, it’s not so you can control my every move. I’m going out with Kate later and you’re going to let me...without a fuss.”
Control her? Yeah, fucking likely. And I would never stop her seeing her friend. I’m not a monster. But I had very detailed plans about how we’d spend this weekend together, and Ava going out on the town without me, drinking, didn’t feature in those plans. What the hell am I supposed to do? “You’re pushing your luck, lady,” I grumble, making her blink, before she turns away and sits herself down on a bench. I shake the door handle. “Ava, what are you doing? Open the fucking door.”
“I’m not opening that door until you start being more reasonable. If you want to marry me, you need to loosen up.”
“It’s not unreasonable to worry about you.”
“You don’t worry, Jesse,” she says, laughing, although it’s exasperated. “You torture yourself.”
I can’t dispute that. I do. And now she’s torturing me because I torture myself? Yes, that’s perfectly reasonable. “Open the door.”
“I’m going out with Kate later.”
Should I agree? I don’t have much fucking choice, do I? “Fine,” I hiss. This weekend is slowly going to shit. “But you’re not drinking,” I add, making surethat’sclear. “Open the fucking door.”
Her sigh is so loud and exaggerated, I highly expect the force of it to shatter the glass door. She wanders over like she has all the time in the world, like I’m not standing here about ready to burst with stress, and maybe a little anger now too. She’s taken advantage. I’m annoyed.
The second the door’s unlocked, I push my way in before she has a chance to recant and slap some more conditions on me, and claim her, getting her on the floor and smothering her entirely. “Please don’t do that to me again. Promise me.”
“It’s the only way I can get you to listen to me.”
“I’ll listen.” Is this what they call compromise? I don’t like it. “Just don’t put anything between us again.”
“You can’t be with me all of the time.”
“I know.” And doesn’t that suck gravely? “But it will be on my terms when I can’t be.” I need to have warning. Be prepared. Plan how I might kill the time. It’s not very reasonable to land it on me at the eleventh hour and expect me to be cool with it.
She laughs. “What about me?”
“I’ll listen,” I say, flipping her a quick half-hearted scowl before resuming my place in her neck. “You’re being very challenging, wife-to-be.”
She doesn’t retort, and it’s a novelty. She doesn’t even want to go out. She just wants to demonstrate independence. Call the shots. Show me how it’s apparently going to be. I’m not overreacting. Each and every time Ava has gone out without me, she’s got too drunk to look after herself. We’ve argued. This time won’t be any different. Plus, she’s vulnerable when she’s drunk. Exposed. An easy target. She should trust me, I know. Why can’t she see this from my perspective instead of using it as a tool against me, and for what?
I sit up and pull her onto my lap. “Why don’t you go to The Manor for a drink?” Problem solved.
Her face twists. It should be unattractive. Not on my Ava. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“So you can keep an eye on me?”
Why does she have to word things so they make me sound like a neurotic twat? No, it’s so I can take care of her. Simple. But clearly, she’s in no mood to listen. “It’s logical,” I say instead. “You can have a drink, I can make sure you’re safe, and then I can bring you home.” Be at her beck and call.
“No,” she says, shaking her head at the same time. “End of.”
I try jutting out my lip, being all adorable and irresistible. Doesn’t work. Ava is developing a bad habit of resisting me. “Impossible woman.” This isn’t the end of it. I’ll convince her, just watch me. I stand up, putting her on her feet and brushing her hair off her cheek. “I’m going to get a shower.” I hitch a brow. “You’ll come.”
Leaning back, she maintains her unwavering firmness. “I’ve had a shower.”
