by Pamela Ann
He finally reached my side before he stepped a hairsbreadth away, his lips touching the back of my ear, imprinting it with his love. “I was so bloody miserable when I left earlier. For hours, I racked my brain to find answers, and I couldn’t. But at the end of the day, the truth surfaced, telling me I was the only one who’d made love to you. It’s me you chose, not him, Ava.”
He gathered air into his lungs, emphasizing the shakiness of his breath. “It’s such heartache to be away from you this long. Our argument earlier on—whatever you said—I forgive you, but you must end this, Ava. You must break the news to him, or this will never be resolved.”
“Break it to him?” I gasped, baffled as I spun to face him. “As in officially kaput?”
Didn’t he see this wasn’t going anywhere? Why couldn’t he just give this up and leave it be like he had with the rest of the women he had slept with. Sure, he loved me, but love … love could be replaced. Well, it could, couldn’t it? Why else would the divorce rate be so nauseatingly high?
“What else is there?” He looked entirely broken, even a little withdrawn, but he still kept on fighting, unwavering from his eternal vows of love he had declared earlier today.
It gutted me to see him this way, as if the light had gone out of his eyes; however, I was almost assured he’d fully recover given the next woman who was appeasing to his eyes and his needs in the bedroom.
As for me, playtime was over. I had known the moment Ashton had appeared I had to do what I had to do. I should’ve cut ties before this, before it had gotten deeper than I had expected.
“Reiss, you’ve mistaken me—I can’t.” My voice broke as I stared at him, frowning while at the same time smiling as I tried to fight between what I thought was for the best and what my senses thought were satisfying. “Ashton … how do I explain it? It’s complex. You see, he and I…”
The air to my lungs momentarily halted because his face held that look that said he was afraid of what I was about to say next. The look that told me he felt helpless stopping me from breaking his heart. He stood there, immobilized, as I was about to butcher his heart and eviscerate his dreams of the future along with his proposal of marriage. I saw it all—the reflection of fear in his emerald eyes as it mirrored my very own.
“He and I are compatible in ways that you and I aren’t. Besides, we have things in common—similar interests and beliefs. I have nothing with you, Reiss. There’s nothing there for us. Don’t you see that?” I persisted, hoping he’d hate me more. “Let it go. You have to let me go.”
He took a sharp intake of breath like he was being cut alive. His body language told me he was already broken, his mind had already understood, but his heart kept on beating, fighting for survival.
“Ava, I promise you I’ll be smart. I’ll make a huge amount of money so you won’t be embarrassed of me. Don’t end it—I beg you …” Hot tears fell down his face before his arms swallowed me, hugging me for dear life. “Please … don’t leave me, Ava. I love you. I love you so bloody much that I’m willing to be someone who would be worthy of you. Let me prove it to you, just don’t end things with me.”
“I’m sorry …” Hell was where I was going when I died because Heaven didn’t welcome selfish, despicable beings like me. “But that’s never going to happen.”
He halfway yanked me off his body, searching my face for answers. “Why not? You don’t even bloody love the bloke, or you wouldn’t be seeking me almost every night for the past eight weeks or so. Have you forgotten that you gave yourself to me? Have you forgotten that you gave me your virginity?” He was almost yelling at me. “Did that mean nothing at all?”
This is it, I bleakly acknowledged as I stood on the precipice, knowing that, whatever I was going to say next, I could never take it back.
Hardening my will and resolve, I kept to my decision, lying to myself and to his face. “It’s just sex; it’s nothing personal.”
That truly got him. He was beyond offended and appalled at what I had just declared.
“Not personal? Seriously?” He gripped my arms, shaking me lightly as his eyes thundered before me. “What are you, a whore? Might as well open your legs then and let me shag you for the last time. I’ll show you how I shag a disrespectful, lying cunt!”
My palm connected to his cheek in a swift movement. “Don’t you dare call me a whore!” I gritted out, reddening as I shook with anger from his harsh choice of words. “You’re nothing but a low-class guy whose one ambition in life is to use your charms to get someone with money. Well, your luck ran out with me, so you better find another victim to use and abuse because it surely isn’t me any longer. You’re a pathetic, disrespectful bastard.” I loathed him like I had never hated anyone in my life. “You fucking disgust me!”
My drastic reaction ignited the beast in him. For a second, I thought he was truly going to deliver what he had said a mere moment before. Our eyes battled as my mind imagined him taking me anywhere he wanted, plowing deeply into me as he punished me. When his eyes dropped to my lips, I was immediately transported back to the very first time we had kissed, where he had seemed tempted yet reluctant to execute the need to kiss me. He had been breathing raggedly, as had I.
Our argument dulled in the back of my head as the acute sensation between my thighs took precedence over common sense. He was going to kiss me. I knew it in every fiber of me that he was going to devour me alive, and I would enjoy every single step of his hungry possession. His gaze indicated how much he wanted me before it flickered to my own and then dropped lower to my cleavage. Then his licentious eyes travelled back to my lips in the slowest, most agonizing moment of my life. He then dropped his lids before pressing his lips together, as if committing to a prayer before spinning on his heels and walking away from me.
Aghast at his unexpected reaction, I was rattled inside because I really wanted him to kiss me even if it was for the last time.
“Where the hell are you going?” I demanded, following him as a gnawing feeling began to make a hole inside my body.
“Away.” He sighed, barely stopping in his tracks. “Anywhere but here.” He paused before breathing in deeply, resuming his purpose. “I have to be away from you. I’d rather die than be anywhere near you again.”
But it had been mere seconds ago he had appeared to be tempted to kiss me, mere hours ago when he had vowed to love me forever. Moreover, it wasn’t that long ago he had given me a ring, proposing in a manner so sweet it had almost broken my resolve. After all of that, he was the one walking away instead of the other way around. How had I ended up being in this position?
Little did I know that this was the pivotal point of my existence, that whatever was shaped here tonight was going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Naïve though I was, I hadn’t realized the kind of pain and damage I had caused.
For this monstrous mishap, I’d dearly pay with my blood, my soul, and my tarnished heart.
Chapter 139
Ava
present
Shocked and immobilized, I stared for however long into the space Craig had just stood inches from me, gazing down with unadulterated animosity boring out of his eyes. The enmity had been so profound I felt it chafe my skin, to which he had passionately set on fire not so long ago.
How had this happened? How was it possible I hadn’t seen this without my rose-tinted glasses on? How foolish was it of me not to believe what my gut had been telling me all along? I had known there was something that didn’t add up to what he was trying to portray. The evidence had been there. The signs were glaring had I looked into it more deeply without having his charms disarm me along with my wits and common sense.
There were hints—snide remarks here and there, ugly facial expressions whenever I spoke of the past and clues like the timber of his voice at times that caught me off guard because they reminded me so much of the Reiss I once cared for. Then there was the flagrant indication of how I had reacted whenever Reiss had been around—irrational with my ski
n constantly prickling from the very sight of him and the lack of decency because I couldn’t contain my sexual desires. My age, it seemed, was never of question where he was concerned; I still lusted after him like no other.
I should have known since it was the only viable reason why I’d crossed the line, committing the ultimate matrimonial betrayal. Ashton meant so much to me, and there was only one man on this planet who could make me lose my mind, as if it wasn’t made for thinking. I had been his for the taking the moment those distinct, bright green eyes had seized me.
Pure, utter embarrassment and contempt plagued my existence as I recounted the scenarios, from the moment our eyes had connected in the bar to the time I had last seen him, blissful as he walked out of here, purposely scrambling my life once more.
I felt shame at how easily persuaded I had been to commit the biggest sin a woman could ever make to her husband. More appallingly, I had neglectfully opened up about how tormented I had been in my marriage and the suffering I had endured after the guilt had settled into my soul with no intentions of letting me go and being fully free of Reiss’s ghost.
Well, he was a ghost no longer. He was truly well and alive and doing quite well for himself financially.
I recalled his look of smugness when he had delivered his revenge, his eyes ice cold as he had let me drown into with no intention of saving me. He must have found it comical in such a twisted sense when I approached him and somehow managed to trust him as I spilled all those details about my life. Craig or Reiss, or whatever his name was, was most likely having a good toast, applauding how efficaciously he had served my due sentence—guilt and being shamed, treating me like a whore like he ought to have done a decade ago.
Dealing with the consequences was inevitable. The question that hounded me was, where did I start with it? It had to start with Ashton, should it not? I had betrayed him on all accounts.
I was afraid of what this could mean, but as much as the burden of my actions had contributed to the demise of my self-respect, I couldn’t ignore the fact that things had truly not been the same with Ashton. Our marriage had been past rocky to the point that I had survived my pain into indifference. And as much as it pained me to admit it, Reiss had revitalized something inside of me.
As awful as it was to believe, he had showed me my old, passionate self that had been lost and gone ages ago. How had I forgotten what it was like to feel like everything was on fire in my body? How had I existed in such a mundane lifestyle, reassuring myself that the sadness that took over me was part of growing up and an essential process to endure a marriage? Maybe it was knowing other women in society tolerated such depressing emotional and mental state that made me easily accept my fate.
My fate had indeed changed, though. Moreover, it had shown me another path. A path that assured me it wasn’t too late to make a journey. A journey to change what had gotten me so unhappy and had stripped me of what made me who I was. And since I had brought this upon myself, there was no other way except to embrace it, even if the thought of living a life without depending on Ashton or anyone else frightened me a little. Maybe it was high time I took charge of my life and embraced the true woman within me that had been buried for far too long. A rebirth of sorts.
I could’ve spent the entire time twiddling my fingers and staring into space as I recalled him over and over in my mind; however, I knew I wasn’t fully equipped to do that yet—emotionally or mentally—. As a result, I promised to save my forlorn heartache for when I was ready to open the proverbial chest that held all of my demons. As of this instant, though, I could only tackle my compromising position of being a wife, being Mrs. Ashton Westwood.
Less than twenty-four hours later…
“I beg your pardon?” Ashton screeched into the phone, hurting my ear. “Divorce, Ava? Has your brain been seized by aliens, or have you gone into one of those psychics you are so fond of visiting which has caused some detrimental way for you to think, that somehow damaged your brain in the process as you both meditated? Or maybe she hypnotized you and made you extremely senseless.”
Aliens…
Psychics?
Meditations?
Hypnosis?
Right, the plot thickens. As he obviously concluded, I had gone mad. What other rational explanation was there when a divorce was mentioned from the known, sweet wife of his who didn’t usually bother with the intricate details that entailed making a decision? To him, all I did was practically spoil myself with whatever was my heart’s content.
He had repeatedly said it was his job to make the money, and it was my purpose to splurge and do as I pleased. This wouldn’t have sufficed for the old Ava, but the broken spirited one had welcomed this change, happily obliging because I was living in the haze of my despair.
Through the years of being married to him, I had severely lost my sense of arguing, even though I knew I was not in the wrong. It wasn’t his fault; it was mine because I had let it happen. The grief I had held onto from losing Reiss had immobilized the greater part of me; thus making Ashton deal with most of my complicated affairs to the menial things like credit card bills or whatever else that required me to go out of my way. I had fully neglected in doing quite a few basic things. It was as if I had given up any sense of will and power and merely handed it to him to decide whatever he wanted to do. I supposed this was why he sounded so shocked and offended at the thought of divorce. No one could truly blame him. After all, in the eyes of the world, we were happy. We were… most of the time, before the whole baby dilemma had come into the picture.
The happiness we shared wasn’t the breathless, crazy lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other kind. The pleasure we both participated in was when we indulged in similar interests, such as art and travelling or endlessly discussing how cocoa cultivated in different soils and climate influences the quality of a refined chocolate. Our marriage was based on profound respect and mutual interests—a far cry from the nonsensical, sex-fueled relationship I had once had with Reiss.
Maybe that was why, at the time, I had been adamant that it wouldn’t work with Reiss, because it wasn’t what I was used to seeing from the adults around me growing up. Passion mostly wasn’t part of what made a good marriage work—or so I was told by my Aunt Lottie, one who had endured her husband’s infidelity because, first and foremost, he was a damn good husband who had never neglected his wife and children. She had said that, at the end of the day, passion ebbed, but having a good husband was a hard find.
Her words, even though I had only been about twelve then, had never been forgotten. That was why I had always liked the prospect of marrying Ashton, because he was a sensible man. A man who had always loved and cared for me. Most of all, he was driven to succeed, never complaining about how much responsibility he was taking on when marrying me.
Reflecting on the basis of my marriage and how things could’ve been made me really see what had happened to us. Ashton deserved someone who could fully be his. Not someone like me, whose tormented past had never fully recovered after Reiss had walked away from me. Top that with the news of the accident, and I had been a heaping mess of inconsolable misery.
Ashton’s presence remained in my life, unwavering from his promise that he and I would be joined as a husband and wife when I turned eighteen. It wasn’t a grand master plan, yet it had been already spoken of between our families upon our persistence that it was what we had wanted when we were around fourteen years old. Ashton, even if he loved me to the ends of the earth, as much as I hated to admit it, wouldn’t be enough to make me happy. Though, for the past decade, I had deceived myself into believing it was possible.
“Ashton …” I knew well enough there was no subtle way of handling the talk of divorce when it sprung out of nowhere, shocking your husband as if I had shot him. Seeing how I had practically ruined both of our lives, there was still hope for us to find our own fated paths. This—he and I—had truly come and gone. “You have to admit that these past couple of years hav
en’t been filled with happiness or laughter. We don’t even communicate as much as we used to. There’s this massive gap between us. It has continually divided us until we no longer spoke of anything with relevance.” Images of my old life with him in New York played through my mind, sealing my belief that this route was for the best.
“Fuck, Ava, you can’t just bloody well drop this bombshell over the phone! You’re simply being illogical about everything.” He released a long breath, as if he was stressed out about this conundrum. “I’m flying out to London; expect me very soon. You and I need to go over this, and I trust that you will not leave anything out, Ava.”
After quick goodbyes, I sat back on the couch, gripping the lapels of my robe as I thought of a good structure of retelling my story without sounding too eager or desperate to be with another man that wasn’t my husband. Ashton, like most males, despised it when “their woman” was attracted to someone else, especially someone they felt was inferior to them.
Even though I had been open to him about what had occurred with Reiss back then, he definitely hadn’t liked it much when I would randomly referenced him out of the blue. At times, though these instances were few and far between, he would give me that cutting look that made me shut my mouth. He had admitted at one point that he was jealous of my relentless dedication in keeping my ex-lover’s memory alive.
Deflated, I somehow found myself at the mini bar, taking out a chilled water bottle and hoping the crisp taste on my tongue would help jolt me back from this unsettling feeling that had uncurled in my stomach the second Reiss/Craig had walked out the door.
