Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157175 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Gingerly edging to the side of the bed, I wince as I stand, the muscle behind the healing cut on my leg pulling tight. I pull on a cream gown and head for the door. I want to know things, and I’m ready to ask. So he better be ready to tell.
Chapter 17
I’m making coffee again, creating as much noise as I can to fill the silence, when Ava marches into the kitchen. I’m taken aback by the determination written all over her face. Then she stops, her eyes sparkling a bit at the sight of my bare chest. As her gaze moves down, the sparkle fades and she points to my stomach. Or the two scars marring it. ‘What happened?’
I look down. I don’t know why. ‘Nothing.’ I shake my head and return my attention to Ava, not prepared to go there yet. Besides, I know she didn’t come stomping in here looking all resolute to talk about my scars. It’s the first time she’s seen them since the accident. ‘What’s up?’
After a little shake of her own head, she rights her softened body, standing tall and confident. ‘Tell me how we met. I want you to tell me everything.’
I cautiously lower my arse to a stool, torn between happiness that she’s asked, and dread from the pressure of having to answer. It was all so intense and a huge whirlwind of feelings and emotion; the thought of explaining it is suddenly very daunting. ‘I don’t know where to start, Ava,’ I admit as she joins me at the island. ‘I’m worried I won’t do our story justice.’
She breathes in a little, thinking, as her gaze flits across my face. ‘Then show me.’
I laugh under my breath, but it’s nervous. ‘I’m not sure you’re ready for that.’ I don’t want to freak her out when she’s in such a mind-warp. This isn’t like when we met. I can’t go steamrolling in like I did back then. She’s delicate now. Fragile. I feel like everything is hanging on my approach to this mess.
‘Ready for what?’
I clench my eyes closed, swallowing. ‘My ways.’
‘Your ways?’
‘Yes, my ways.’ I open my eyes and find hers. The mystification staring back at me only amplifies my worry.
She doesn’t know what to make of that. Or of me.
‘That’s what you call it,’ I tell her. ‘My ways.’ I go on when she cocks a questioning head. ‘I’m unreasonable.’ I shrug. ‘Apparently.’ A deep breath helps me to go on. ‘A control freak.’ Another lame shrug. ‘Apparently.’ This is hard already, and I’ve not even skimmed the fucking surface. ‘I’m possessive and controlling and . . .’ I press my lips together when her eyes widen a little. ‘Apparently,’ I add quietly.
‘You just said apparently an awful lot.’
‘Apparently,’ I mumble, looking away from her, struggling to express what she needs to know. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ I breathe, frustrated.
‘You swear a lot, too.’
I shoot my eyes to hers, finding a rather disapproving look. I could laugh, but I cough instead. ‘And you don’t, for the record. Hardly ever, in fact.’ I refuse to feel guilty for telling her a barefaced lie. This could be the end of her potty mouth.
‘I don’t?’
I shake my head. ‘Never.’
‘Oh.’ She falls into thought again for a few moments, swallowing repeatedly until she takes in so much air, I’m worried about what might come from her mouth that requires so much preparation. ‘I am ready,’ she declares.
I’m lost. ‘Ready for what?’
‘For you to show me.’ She bites down on her lip a little, gazing at me as I try to comprehend what she’s asking me to do.
‘I’m not sure, Ava.’
‘I am sure.’ She approaches me and lays her hands on my chest, forcing me to breathe deeply through the contact. ‘I have a huge, gaping hole in my head. It’s where you and the children should be, and it’s truly killing me that you’re not there.’ She shoves me a little, bringing her face close to mine. ‘You’re here, in my life, but you’re not up here.’ Releasing one hand, she taps the side of her temple softly, though she still winces a little. Her move is a reminder to both of us that she needs to take it easy. Her visible wounds haven’t healed yet, either. ‘And I just know that you should be. Seeing those photographs has only made that instinct stronger.’ Her voice cracks again, and I quickly take her hand back down from her head, holding it firmly in my grasp. ‘I need you to do whatever it takes.’
Her fierce determination through her broken words staggers me. Then I remember who I’m faced with. I might be a stranger to her, but this is still my wife. The strongest woman I’ve ever met. She has to be, or I wouldn’t be in her life, or she in mine. She tackled me before, took everything I had to throw at her.