Total pages in book: 204
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 193115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 966(@200wpm)___ 772(@250wpm)___ 644(@300wpm)
I let her be, give her time to let it all out. It’s all I can do in this moment. That and hope. Hope with everything I have that this isn’t a goodbye embrace. Because it’s amazing. Having her in my arms is amazing. Comforting her when she’s sad. Holding her when she needs to be held. Purpose. I reach up and massage the back of her head, sighing deeply.
The jerks of her body lessen slowly. “How long have you been here?” she eventually asks.
“Long enough,” I reply, holding her tighter, preparing myself to ask the question I’d like to avoid. “What’s all this about a monumental fuck-up? I hope to God you weren’t referring to me.”
“I was.”
“You were?” Unexpected annoyance drifts into my tone. I’m putting it down to surprise. I’m surprised she’s being so brutally honest with me. I should follow her lead. Open up. Yet everything is telling me it’s too soon. She’s swaying back and forth without knowing all the details, without really knowing me, leaving me concluding that the age difference must be one of her issues, along with this fierce intensity. Because it really is quite frightening. “Will you come home with me?” We’ll talk. I’ll remind her. Take her back to the places we went to only an hour ago.
“No.”
I sag, fucking knackered by the walls she keeps adding more fucking bricks to. “Please, Ava.”
“Why?”
Why? Isn’t it fucking obvious? I release her a bit, but not too much. “It feels right. You belong with me.” The words just come, with no hope of being held back. I’m being honest. It’s a step in the right direction. Although her monster frown is a little worrying.
“So who does Sarah belong with?”
“Sarah? What’s she got to do with anything?”
“Girlfriend,” she says, and I gape at her, completely stunned. Girlfriend? What the . . . Oh no. She thinks . . . Sarah? Good God, how did she come to that conclusion?
“Oh, please don’t tell me you’ve been ignoring my calls and running away because you thought . . .” I force myself to release her, aware that my hold is tightening by the second. “You thought me and Sarah were . . . Oh, fucking hell, no.”
“Yes,” she yells, and I move away, stunned. Sarah? “She’s not?” she asks, her beautiful face a picture of confusion and . . . relief. There’s relief. Jesus, how did I allow her to believe that? How did I not see?
No woman will accept you as long as we’re together.
Fuck.
Frustration grabs me, and my hands go to my head, gripping it, stopping the mammoth headache from taking hold. “Ava, whatever made you think that?”
She’s on the verge of laughter. I have no idea why. This is the least funny thing ever. I’ve been going out of my mind trying to figure out how she could brush me off so easily. My age. The sparks. I considered it all. But Sarah? “Oh, let me see.” The smile she hits me with is pretty fucking insulting, to be honest. Like I’m stupid. “Maybe it was the kiss in the hallway of The Manor. Or when she came looking for you in the bedroom.” She looks up briefly, as if mentally recalling every valid reason. “Or it could be her frosty reception to me. Or perhaps it’s the fact that she’s with you every time I see you.”
I unwittingly flinch, remembering each and every one of those times. There was nothing in any of them. Maybe that’s male ignorance on my part. I have no clue how women’s minds work. But I’m learning. Fuck me, what a nightmare.
“Who is she?” she asks, furious.
She doesn’t want to or need to know. But, bloody hell, let’s set the record straight on something. I take her hands and hunker down a bit so I’m close. And clear. Very, very clear. “Ava, she’s a little friendly.” Mostly with me. She’s also a mega-bitch from hell when she wants to be. But that’s Sarah. Always has been. I’m used to it, but I’ve had a very swift reality check. Ava doesn’t know Sarah like I know Sarah. I need to remember that.
“Friendly? That woman is not friendly.”
“She’s a friend.” I feel at her cheek, ignoring her look of ire. Enough about Sarah. She’s not an issue anymore. Now the issue is Ava and me and how we move forward. “Now we’ve clarified Sarah’s position in my life, can we talk about yours?”
She frowns. “What do you mean?”
I’m glad she’s asked. “I mean in my bed, beneath me.” I can’t help my smirk. I’m so fucking happy. All that unnecessary stress was for nothing?
I pull her into me and sigh when she snuggles deep. “At The Manor?” she asks, and I balk at thin air before me. At this time of night? Jesus, no. It’ll be heaving.