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“Because I was freaking out about you freaking out. When you called me, I was at the doctor because—” My mouth dries. The words congealing on the tip of my tongue as my anxiety chokes me. “—because I was late. Like really fucking late, and I’m never late.”
He looks at me blankly, like I’m talking out of my ass. He’s so fucking clueless.
“God, Damon, I thought I was pregnant. Is that clear enough?”
“You thought?” he breathes, looking overwhelmed.
“Yes, I thought I was pregnant because why else would I be late, right? And we fuck a lot. Like a lot. A-and then I took a test, but it was all funny. It wasn’t negative or positive, so I called Lacie and she said that I needed to go to the doctor. Of course, I did, because that’s what any grown-ass woman would do if the home test was all weird and shit. But I was freaking out because it’s too soon and…God, you don’t even trust me.”
“How am I meant to trust you if you can’t be up-front with me about things,” he murmurs, looking into his glass.
“I was feeling awful and I panicked. And I didn’t lie—I rescheduled my meeting with Robert after I left you because you looked worried, and I didn’t want to put another thing on you.” It’s the truth. After I left him, I couldn’t bear the thought of having to sit with Robert and try to pretend that I was okay when I was anything but.
Damon reaches for my hand, but I’m just so tired of today and the way he was so quick to jump to conclusions without talking to me first.
My Damon bubble is popped, and I’m feeling a million things because I’ve trusted him in spite of everything he did to me. The blackmail. The bullying. The coercion.
I trusted him in spite of it all.
“I already had an appointment booked with my doctor for after the meeting with Robert, so I met with Lacie earlier and she went with me. It just happened that I got to the bar first and Hayden was there. He saw me and he came and talked to me. Did he try to sound me out? Absolutely, but I told him I’m not interested. Or at least, I wasn’t then.”
“Ava…” He tries to reach out again, but instead I grab my purse from the floor.
“Maybe if you weren’t so ruthless and conniving, then you wouldn’t have trust issues. You know? If you didn’t go around fucking people over, you wouldn’t be so damn paranoid about being fucked over.”
“Maybe if you weren’t so damn afraid of stating your feelings, then I wouldn’t have to wonder what the fuck we’re doing here!”
I don’t bother replying. Instead, I walk away, leaving him with his wine and his distrust. I can’t deal with this right now. The thoughts in my head are all a jumble of stay and go, love him and leave him, be better, do better, do more, work harder, prove myself. Nothing is straightforward or simple. Every worry has a worry of its own. And all I really need right now is to talk to Mom and hear her tell me it’ll be okay like she used to. Before Damon. Before anything was truly chaotic or messed up.
“Go on, run away, Ava. Go! It’s what you do, isn’t it? You fuck off when things don’t go your way.”
“Fuck you, Damon. And fuck your love. And all your shit!”
I slam the door to his apartment and get in the elevator as soon as it arrives.
I’m done.
I’m back in his dark office looking out at the city. Alone.
Chapter 22
Ava
I don’t bother going into the office for the rest of the week. For two days I hide in my apartment and pretend the last few months haven’t all come crashing down like my four years with Marsh.
Go on, run away, Ava!
I’m not running away, and I don’t have issues with my feelings. Being careful isn’t a crime. Maybe I should’ve been more careful.
Definitely should’ve been more careful, I sigh, throwing the negative test in the bin.
There’s still no show from Aunt Flow, and I’m waiting to get the blood test result from my doctor. She said she would call, but I’ve heard nothing from her yet.
Maybe it’s a good sign?
I’m not sure how I feel about either outcome. Baby or no baby. Pregnant or not. It all seems unimportant when Damon isn’t here. I’m trying not to make myself sick with anxiety while at the same time I’m trying to convince myself that the breather between us is a good thing.
Clarity. Space. And loneliness.
