Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Instead of jumping right into her problem, she gave herself a moment. “What have you done with T. Rex?”
Fernsby didn’t smile. Although that might have been a slight smirk on his lips. “Please, Miss Harrington, don’t trouble yourself about Lord Rexford.” She didn’t believe Fernsby had ever called the mini dachshund T. Rex. “He is safely ensconced in the car with perfect temperature control, water, and a bit of food. Not too much.” He wagged a finger. “His owners,” he said with a hint of admonition for Cammie and Dane, “insist on feeding him too many treats.” She suspected—but couldn’t be sure—that Fernsby snuck the dog treats when no one was looking.
He pointed to the champagne flute in front of Ava. “We took the liberty of ordering your favorite libation. I understand you need it.”
Ava took a drink before she could say anything, and the sweetness of the champagne wet her parched throat, the bubbles threatening to go to her head. Though maybe that was a good thing.
Obviously having read Ava’s thoughts written on her face, Gabby said, “I know you weren’t expecting Fernsby. But trust me on this one. He is a wise man. Dane and Cammie might never have seen the light and gotten together if it hadn’t been for him.”
Fernsby added in the drollest of voices, “Having dealt admirably—” He preened as he said the word. “—with Mr. Harrington’s lackadaisical approach to romance—and look how well that turned out—I believe I’m well equipped to provide any necessary advice here. You may not believe this, but I know a thing or two about love.”
Love? Fernsby? She couldn’t believe the man had ever been in love in his entire life, not even as a hormone-ridden teenager. In fact, he might actually have been hatched just as he was. Dane had always speculated that Fernsby was anywhere between the ages of forty and sixty. Ava secretly thought he was far more ancient.
But she put all that aside. “I’m desperate. I need advice.”
She would even take it from Fernsby.
* * *
Fernsby felt himself going a little misty-eyed at the memory of his lost love. But no, it wasn’t appropriate here.
Oh, the woes of young love and all the mistakes we make, he thought. It was obviously up to him to fix Ava’s troubles—he, the inestimable Fernsby. This was yet another job he had been made for.
“One more sip of your champagne, my dear. You need the fortification.” If it was up to him, he’d have ordered bourbon. The shock of it would have brought forth every detail trapped inside her.
Perhaps it was his own failed romance that gave him the ability to fix everything—and he did mean everything—for everyone else. Of course, it had taken him twelve years—twelve years, for God’s sake—to get Dane to realize he was madly in love with Camille. But the timing had to be perfect. They had to be best friends. One couldn’t rush these things. And Ava, by the beleaguered look on her face and those longing glances he’d seen with his eagle eye at yesterday’s wedding, was ripe for his help.
He put his hand on her shoulder, like a comforting uncle. Fernsby prided himself on playing whatever role his charges needed.
“Start from the beginning, my dear,” he said. “And leave nothing out.”
* * *
Ava put her elbows on the table and her hands over her face. There was just something about Fernsby that had her blurting it all out. Fast, almost without a breath. “We had a bad breakup fifteen years ago. I never talked about it back when it all happened. And now I just had sex with Ransom in my office.” She splayed her fingers so she could see Gabby’s reaction. “Twice.”
Her sister’s jaw dropped. Fernsby leaned over, tapped her chin, and Gabby closed her mouth. Giving her head a shake, Gabby said, “You actually had sex in your office?” With two fingers to each temple, she puffed out a long breath. “I’m not sure my brain can even compute that.”
Ava hardly recognized herself either, as though the time she’d spent with Ransom had opened up a new emotional chasm inside that she’d forgotten was there after all the years of keeping it tightly closed. Before this afternoon, she would never have said anything like this to anyone, not even Gabby. And never in a million, trillion years would she have said it to Fernsby. Yet that’s where she was now—in a place where she’d say whatever had to be said because she needed answers. Badly.
She’d asked herself why it hurt so much. And out of the chasm came the answer—that maybe she’d closed herself off to love when she was much younger, even before Ransom, when her parents were alive and she’d never been able to get them to notice her. To love her.