Chapter 31: Ava - Reckless Love

Later that night, the personal chef, who’s had very little to do since my whole family was in the accident, has just left Stephen’s house when the door opens again with Stephen’s arrival. I also just sent the nurse home.

“Smells amazing,” Stephen says from the front entry. “Did you order in?”

“In a way,” I say, not even fazed that he knows I wouldn’t have cooked.

“Your chef?” he asks as he comes into the kitchen.

“We are paying him,” I say while I dig out plates from the cupboard.

“You don’t need him anymore,” he says, kissing my temple. “You got me.”

Except Stephen’s been treating me like glass. Pecks of affection here and there, and I get that I’m injured. It’s just that I hate how closely intimacy and injury are tied together. Or I think they are. He’s treating me so carefully because I’m injured and not because of some other reason that I haven’t uncovered or wanted to consider. Maybe he’s just waiting to let me down easy.

If I was able to stay awake later than Landon, I might be able to get some answers about the weird vibe I keep getting.

From the kitchen, I try to deliver the still-hot dishes to the table, but as soon as Stephen clocks what I’m doing, he takes them from me and slides them onto the table before returning to take the plates and cutlery from me.

“I’m not helpless,” I say.

“I never said you were,” Stephen says. “Just thought you might be exhausted with all those meetings you had today, even though I suggested you don’t do that.”

“Suggested? That’s what this morning was?”

“Strongly suggested,” he says, a hint of teasing in his gaze. “Still getting used to this work ethic you have going on.”

“I always wanted to be successful,” I say, bristling a little.

“I know,” he says, his tone gentle and kind. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

He doesn’t say anything while he sets the table then pulls out my chair for me to sit before sitting himself. He smooths down my hair, and we stare at each other. “You’re letting yourself care deeply, and you’re letting other people see how much you care too.”

“You’re telling me I’ve grown up without telling me I’ve grown up.”

“You can label it whatever you want, Ava. I’m not touching that one.”

“Food!” Landon calls as the bathroom door springs open and he runs down the hall. “Stephen, guess what happened today! Jenny brought perfumes to smell.” Landon slides into his seat at the table.

“Did she?” Stephen says, shooting me an amused glance. “Did you like them?”

“There were two,” Landon says. “One of them smelled like you.”

“A perfume that smells like me?” He lets out a little chuckle, and his expression turns curious. “Not sure that’ll be a winner.”

“The perfume is actually a cologne,” I say, “and it’s testing very well.”

“It smells like me?” He searches my face, and I can’t read what emotion is there.

“It does. Quite a coincidence, huh?”

“Hmm,” Stephen agrees, piling rice onto his plate. “I saw the doctor made a house call today too.”

“You and your secret spy doorbell camera.”

“Not exactly a secret if you know about it,” Stephen says. “Helps keep you honest.”

I bristle. “I’ve never been dishonest with you.” One of my greatest points of pride is how real Stephen and I were with each other.

“No, I suppose going against my suggestion was more defiant than dishonest,” he says, and although his comment is pointed, his tone is light.

“‘Suggestion’ being the operative word there,” I say. “You didn’t say I couldn’t have people here. You suggested that I shouldn’t go to the office.” I pass Landon the rice. “And you were right about that, so I’ll give you your flowers. Two meetings knocked me out for about two hours afterwards.”

“We had a good nap,” Landon concurs.

“Is this Pakistani food?” Stephen asks after he takes a bite. “Korma?”

“Our chef, Ahmed’s, family was originally from Pakistan a couple generations ago. These dishes are a favorite for him and us. Comfort food.”

“Korma is my favorite,” Landon agrees, taking a big scoop of the rice and sauce.

“What did the doctor say?” Stephen asks between bites.

“Landon is cleared to go back to school half days starting next week. No gym class. Has to have some additional precautions at recess. So I’ll need to go in with him the first day and make sure those are understood by everyone. I can return to work in whatever length of time I can tolerate. But today proved I’m probably not quite ready yet.”

“I can take him,” Stephen offers. “I can take both of you if you want.”

I stir my food around my plate and give a little shrug. “I’ll talk to Landon about it later. I was thinking I might just drive him on my own.”

“Because he’d be more comfortable or you would?” he asks.

“I want Mom to come,” Landon says. “When I go back to school, I want Mom there.”

“We can talk about it at bedtime,” I tell Landon. He’s at his most honest just before he falls asleep, and I don’t want him to say yes to Stephen coming for the wrong reasons. Stephen has a job and a life. Staying in the apartment was the agreement, not looking after us. He’s already doing so much that I’m reluctant to lean too heavily on him.

Especially because I don’t know what’s going to happen when Raul wakes up.

“Can we play Jenga or Kerplunk after dinner?” Landon asks Stephen. “Mom thinks they are both too noisy, but I like them.”

“Sure,” Stephen says. “Your mom probably has a book on the go. I saw your Aunt Ember stopped by yesterday with a bag.”

“You’re such a stalker,” I tease. “Do you just sit and stare at the camera?”

“No,” Stephen says with a chuckle. “When the camera detects motion, it takes a picture. I get an alert that includes the picture, so I know if your best friend is dropping off a load of romance books or if something more sinister is happening.”

“Raul had the maids throw all mine out at the house,” I say, remembering when I came home to find them gone.

“He did what?” Stephen says.

“Unrealistic expectations.”

“Sounds like a man who doesn’t know how to rise to them. I never fucking cared. Usually benefitted me in the end.” His lips tip into a hint of a smile.

“What does that mean?” Landon asks. “What does benefitted mean?”

“Can I tell him?” Stephen asks me.

“I don’t know what you’re going to tell him, but sure.”

“A long, long time ago, your mom and I used to date. Whenever she’d finish one of her books, she was usually extra nice to me.”

I purse my lips to hold in a laugh, and I give my head a little shake before meeting Stephen’s playful gaze. His comment reminds me of the times I read moments from books out loud, and he went all in on bringing those scenes to life. Each time I remember something, I become surer I was an idiot to want anything else more than what I had with him and that part of me knew what I had, which is why I kept going back. That realization isn’t enough, though, because I wasn’t very good at showing him, or, god, telling him. Did I ever tell him?

“How was she extra nice?” Landon asks, taking another bite and not appearing to get the undercurrent of this conversation at all, which is a relief.

“She’d give me special treats,” Stephen says, and I swat his leg under the table.

“Like a frosted cookie?” Landon asks.

“Sometimes there was frosting involved,” Stephen says.

“Okay,” I say, passing Landon more of the korma. “You need to get your strength up if you’re going back to school soon. More rice too?”

Stephen squeezes my thigh under the table while he continues to eat, and I wrap my hand around his large bicep, leaning into his shoulder. My heart thrums with happiness.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” he murmurs against my ear.

And I don’t know if he means the inside jokes, the food, the closeness, or something else, but “nice” doesn’t cover what being in this house with him, with Landon, feels like. Being here with him is home.

But since I’m not ready to say that yet—even if I should—I look up at him with my chin on his arm, and I agree. “It’s the best.”

* * *

While I’m putting Landon to bed, I ask him about his return to school, and he’s adamant that he wants Stephen to drive us. He’s convinced that he’s safest in a car if Stephen is at the wheel. That certainty is great for right now when Stephen can drive us, but when I start having to be the primary driver again, I’m hoping it’s not an anxious struggle for both of us.

For the first night since I left the hospital, I don’t fall asleep while putting Landon down. That power nap in the afternoon must have given me the energy I need to go the distance tonight.

When I leave the room, I find the apartment empty. I peer out the front window to see Stephen’s car is still in the driveway, which means he must have gone to his own apartment. He probably figured, since I haven’t been able to make it past Landon’s bedtime, that he was safe to disappear to his own space.

With a little bit of trepidation, like I might be doing something wrong, I inch through the hallway that divides the two apartments, and when I hear a female voice filtering through Stephen’s closed apartment door, I freeze.

My heart kicks and then races in my chest, and my palms break out in a sweat. He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he? Oh, god. What if he’s just been nice to me because of the car accident, and he has no intention of us going any further than that? He hasn’t said, and now that I think of it, I haven’t exactly told him my intentions either. I just assumed we were on the same page.

I divorce Raul. We get to be together.

Maybe I should leave the hallway, but I’ve never been that kind of person. As much as I hate to admit it, I get my meddling nature from my mother. With my ear pressed to the door, I try to figure out who’s speaking.

“You’re accusing me of being deceptive?” she says. “You’re literally shacked up in our parents’ apartment with someone else’s wife. Has she even filed for divorce yet, or is she just going to use you and discard you when someone wealthier shows up again?”

That’s his sister throwing shitty shade in my direction. Oh no she does not. I knock on the door loudly, and then I open it, not even waiting for an invitation.

“Oh,” I say with extra brightness. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Stephen shoots me a look that tells me he can read me like a book. “No?” he says drily. “Listening in the hallway got a little old, did it?”

“She was listening?” Vanessa sputters. “I didn’t… Shit. I didn’t mean… I’m just mad at my brother.”

“I heard you talking about things you don’t know anything about,” I say, batting my eyes at her. “You were so young when Stephen left, I can totally understand why you’d have misread all that.”

Vanessa gives me an assessing look, and then she turns to Stephen again. “Whatever your friends are telling you, they’re wrong.”

“This discussion isn’t over,” Stephen says, his tone icy.

“If the cameras are faulty that night, that’s got nothing to do with me.”

“I guess we’ll see,” he says.

And now I really do think I’ve stumbled into a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear. “I can go back to my apartment,” I say.

“No,” Vanessa says. “I’m going to my apartment.” She opens Stephen’s back door and then slams it behind her.

“Sorry,” I say. “I came over to tell you that Landon would like you to drive him if you’re not busy, and then…”

“You heard Vanessa’s comments, and you’ve never had trouble defending yourself.”

Except I did for a while. But somehow, someway, I’ve found those parts of myself again.

“You don’t believe the things she said, do you?” I ask, my voice gentle as I step closer.

“Not really,” he says, his voice gruff.

His admission hits me like a wave, threatening to knock me off my feet. I wanted a “no,” and “not really” isn’t even close. “I called Caitlin today, and I asked her to file for divorce.”

“You told me the threats he’s made, Ava,” Stephen says, and his hand hesitates between us for a beat before tucking the loose strands around my face behind my ear. “I know how much your company means to you, how much Landon means to you.”

“She said I can’t serve him with the divorce paperwork until he’s awake. But I’m going to. As soon as he’s awake. We never had much of a marriage in the first place, and I don’t want it anymore.” I suck in a deep breath. “I don’t think I ever really wanted it at all.” That’s actually hard to admit—that I let myself get backed into a corner. That I gave up myself under the guise of getting what I wanted. No matter how sad and despondent I was, I realize the deal I made was one that never should have been done. Having Stephen back is proof that there’s so much more to a full, happy life. “I’m done being afraid, but I’m not done fighting. Not even close.”

“I used to love that about you.” His palm cups my neck. “That fight. That fire.”

“You were always so patient with me,” I say.

“Until I wasn’t.”

“Everything that’s happened is my fault.”

“I don’t know,” he says, searching my face. “I packed up my hurt feelings, and I left the country. Not much of a chance to resolve anything, to change our minds.”

We’re so close now that his minty breath feathers across my cheek, and his distinct scent, one I’ve probably spent more time and money than I’d like to admit recreating, wafts around us. I let out a shuddery breath.

“If you could have anything in the world right now,” I whisper, “what would it be?”

“You.” His voice is rough. “It’s always been you.”

“Then take me,” I say, pressing against him.

His breath becomes shallow. He searches my face. I don’t know if he’s fighting with himself or trying to determine if I mean it, but we’re close enough that I can feel how turned on he is, how much he wants me, how much what I said just tipped him closer to the edge.

“I’ll beg if you want me to,” I murmur.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, and with a little groan, his hand tightens on my neck, and his lips descend on mine. The kiss is hungry, tongue and teeth and panting breaths that make my lungs hurt, but I don’t even care. God, I love kissing him. I rise on my toes, trying to get closer, deeper, keep the connection longer.

He lifts me into his arms, and I hook my ankles at the small of his back as he presses me against the wall. My ribs ache, and I barely stifle a gasp. Every part of me wants this, and if he stops now, I might cry. The pain is worth it for the pleasure I know will come. But then he shifts slightly, and a sharp stab shoots through my ribs, and I can’t stop the whimper from escaping.

Immediately, his kiss slows, and he presses his forehead against mine, holding me still for a moment. “Fuck, Ava,” he rasps. “I’m better than this.”

“I’m not,” I say, kissing his neck.

He gives the tiniest little thrust and then buries his face in my neck, breathing hard. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about, and I’ve been avoiding it.”

Tension streaks through my limbs, and I shift, urging him to lower me. “Should I be worried?” I ask. Maybe this is where he tells me that the chemistry is still there, but we’re not right for each other, not even now.

“I don’t know how you’re going to feel about what I have to say.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it takes him a minute to look at me.

“I just need you to say it.”

“When Landon was injured, I don’t know if they told you this, but he has a rare blood type.”

“They didn’t, but okay,” I say. “What does that mean?” The conversation has swerved in an unexpected direction.

“His blood type matches mine, Ava. I was his blood donor.” He stares at me with intensity, as though he expects me to understand something I don’t. “I think it means we need to order another DNA test. I think the first one might have been forged.”