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“Together?” Her eyebrows raise in question.
I bust out laughing and she flinches. “No, but it’s nice to know what you really think of me.” My tone is sarcastic, and if I’m honest with myself, I’m hurt.
“But, that morning, I heard you and Clay . . .” She drops her head, looking at her lap.
That morning! In my condo!
“Wait. I thought you left?” I sit up and turn to face her.
“I did. But as I got in the elevator, I felt stupid for jumping to conclusions over a text, so I went back to talk to you. I heard you tell Clay that you had asked her to marry you.” She looks so sad.
Running my hand over my face, I let out a deep sigh. “Ava, Juliet and I made a stupid pact back when we were twenty. You know the one, if neither of us is married at thirty we would get married. Last summer when she brought it up again, I seriously entertained the idea. Clay didn’t know.”
Her eyes widen and she crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you were planning to marry her?” she asks biting down on her bottom lip.
“No. I never would have gone through with it, but I understood why she brought it up. Both of us were in a really dark place. Her ex hurt her badly, and after the divorce, she kind of changed, decided that finding someone new to love wasn’t worth the risk. Whereas I was looking for something, anything that could drag me out of my downward spiral. Ava, I love her, but not like that. Not at all. She’s my family.”
“She’s divorced?” Her hands grip the couch next to her legs.
“Yes.”
She gets up and starts pacing around the room. Back and forth, I watch her and think how this conversation is pretty similar to the one I had with Clay. As I was making plans to head to New York to drop off the book, he came over, and with a six-pack, we hashed it out. I still can’t believe he hit me, but it’s nice to know it wasn’t because he thought I wasn’t good enough for her, but more along the lines of, “You’re going to ruin her life by not allowing her to find someone who truly loves her.” He was right, and I knew it all along. I just hadn’t pulled my head out of my ass yet to tell her. I left her wondering for way too long.
Juliet’s a smart girl. She’s pretty, genuine, and has a lot to offer someone—someone else. She does agree with me, and maybe by me finding someone to love, it’ll give her more courage to try again. That guy was a dick, but not all of us are.
Stopping right in front of me, Ava looks me in the eyes and asks, “You two never . . .”
“No. Never have been, never will. I did kiss her once when I was fourteen, but that was more out of a curiosity of kissing than a desire to kiss her.”
“How long have you known her?”
“Since I was thirteen.” I’ll never forget that day. It’s bittersweet really.
“What?” She’s still confused.
“I told you, after my grandfather died, I moved in with Clay and his family. She’s his sister. I thought you knew that.”
Her jaw drops open and then snaps shut.
“His sister. Ash, how would I have known that?” Her voice is slightly raised.
“Because I’ve talked about that time of my life with you and told you they became my family. Juliet and Clay are all I have now. Well, and Bryce too.” Bryce was an unexpected, but very welcome, addition.
“Who’s Bryce?”
“Her son.”
“Oh. You never mentioned he had a sister. What was I supposed to think? At the blue grass concert she called you, at the benefit she was with you, her text after the morning of your show is what woke me, you admit to Clay you proposed, you were mad when I asked about her in my hallway, and there are so many photos of the two of you together online and half the time she’s listed as your girlfriend.”
Shit.That’s a lot, and I had no idea.
Other than my profession, I never tried to hide anything from her. In fact, I’ve been more open with her than I have with anyone, ever. It never even occurred to me that she might think differently about my relationship with Juliet than what it actually is. Yes, the media always liked to romanticize her and I, but they all know she’s Clay’s sister. She’s been around from day one.
“What do you mean I got mad at you in the hallway?” Leaning forward, I reach for her leg, but she steps back and my hand drops. I don’t like the space or the tension between us—at all.
“You did. I asked you about her and you scowled at me.”
Getting up off the couch, I move to stand in front of her. “I wasn’t angry at you. I was irritated because I was trying to figure out why you walked out, what had happened tous, and you brought her up. At the time, to me, she was an irrelevant topic of conversation and I didn’t understand why you were bringing her up.”
