Chapter Five: Four Months Later
Ava
It’s been four months since I was forced to face the truth about my life with Connor. It hasn’t been easy, and it’s even more confusing for me to understand why I would have stayed in a relationship like that. The person I am today would never have stayed in a violent relationship. But maybe that isn’t true. Maybe the person I am today is like the person I was before I married Conner. Have I changed? I don’t know. Life is too short and it can end at any time. I know leaving isn’t always easy. Money can definitely make it seem impossible to leave, but now some cities and towns have safe houses for women who have suffered domestic violence. Fortunately, money wasn’t an issue for me, so why did I stay? Often, we think in terms of fight or flight, but there is a third reaction: freeze. Sometimes, in emergency situations we simply shut down and can’t react.
I’m thankful I haven’t had any more dreams or memories. I can only hope that the past will stay in the past and I can move on to a better future. I would like nothing more than to forget the past. So far, so good.
I still have no memory of the person I was before the accident, and I’m fine with that, too. I’m my own person and I like the person I am becoming. I’m confident, independent, and happy. Having a man in my life would be good, but being forever single doesn’t scare me. Being forever single doesn’t necessarily mean being forever lonely. I have friends and family who love me, so what more do I need?
Skylar and I are a great pair. We work well together, and we share the same dream: to be successful and to have a great time doing it. We don’t need to be rich, but we do need to be happy.
I dated Ben Michaels briefly before breaking it off with him. He just wasn’t my type. Actually, I didn’t have to break it off with him. It seems that if you just mention the word “marriage,” or obliquely refer to marriage, some guys really do get scared and leave on their own accord. It was almost comical how Skylar took care of the problem for me. I owe her for this one even if it was an accident on her part. She bought a few old wedding veils and dresses at a thrift store that we planned to make ghosts out of for Halloween. Ben was here and saw them lying on the table. He left abruptly and it was the last time we saw him.
The rooms at the bed and breakfast are staying booked up. We have only one or two vacancies on any given weekday night and seldom have vacancies on the weekend. Skylar and I do what Lou Ann suggested. We bake and cook on Sunday, and that helps us have some downtime through the week to do what we want to do.
Today, Skylar is out running errands and I’m running the tea room. We decided to have the tea room set up as a help-yourself mini-buffet. It’s easier for us and the guests seem to enjoy it. The bell over the door chimes, alerting me that someone is coming or leaving. I see a tall attractive man standing at the doorway, so I walk over to greet him.
“Hi, may I help you?”
He’s wearing a pair of white pants, a sky blue linen shirt, and a pair of tan Sperrys. He looks like he just stepped off of a boat.
“Hi, hope so.” I watch as he looks around the open foyer. “Is it always this quiet here?”
I can hear women softly talking and laughing, and teacups clanking. “It’s our tea time so it’s a little noisier than usual.”
He smiles, “Perfect. My name’s Xander Jamison and I’m looking to rent a room for a couple weeks, maybe even a month. Do you have something available?”
I notice his perfectly white smile. “Hi, I’m Ava Emerson. A room for two, I think we can accommodate that.”
“A room for one,” he corrects.
Oh, that’s even better. I immediately look at his ring finger and there isn’t a ring on it. He’s single, and he’s tall. Things are looking up. “Let me make sure we have a room for the next two weeks.”
“If you have something for a month, I’ll take it.”
“Would you like to see one of our rooms before committing to stay that long?”
“No, thank you. That won’t be necessary. I just need a clean room, some quiet, and access to wifi.”
“We can accommodate all of those requests. Are you on vacation?” I ask, not thinking. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s none of my business why you’re here. I just usually don’t get a request for a room rental longer than a few days at a time.”
He laughs. “It’s okay. I’m on a working vacation, you could say. I came here for a few days, but I thought I would stay longer. It seems like such a quaint town with a lot of history.”
“It is. I haven’t been here long, but I do love the area.” I look into the tea room. “If you want to help yourself to some tea and crumpets, I’ll check availability and get your bill made up for you.”
“Tea and crumpets, huh?”
I laugh. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be…,” he stops and looks at the sign over the room and finishes, “… in the Rose Petals Tea Room if you need me.”
“Okay, sounds good. I won’t be long.” I turn to leave and when I figure up the bill, I go back into the tea room.
Standing in the doorway, I see the tall, handsome Xander Jamison sitting at the window seat looking out into the rose garden. He has only a dainty teacup sitting in front of him. Apparently, he doesn’t like the food we serve during tea time: cucumber sandwiches and crumpets. I laugh to myself. I don’t get many masculine men having tea in my tea room. I turn around and walk into the kitchen to make him something more suitable to eat and drink.
When I walk back into the tea room, it’s empty of the other patrons. He’s looking around the room and smiles when he sees me walking towards him. He stands as I approach his table. I’m taken aback by his politeness. I can’t recall a time a man stood for me when I approached them. “Please sit down. I brought you something more suitable for lunch.” I set the plate of food down and he continues to stand. He’s now looking at the chicken salad sandwich, carrots and celery sticks, and the fresh fruit plate.
“I didn’t know what you wanted to drink.” I look at the bottle of Corona with lime, a mug of hot coffee, and the glass of milk still on the tray.
“Wow, you shouldn’t have.”
“I noticed you didn’t like the tea, or the crumpets.” I look down at the broken teacup.
He follows my eyes then picks up the teacup and the broken handle. “Sorry, my finger didn’t fit into the tiny handle.”
I look at him and we both bust out laughing. “I can see that. I’ll have to remember to order no-handle teacups for the men from now on.”
“Men don’t really have tea in here, do they?”
I clear my throat and say, “The smart married men do. You ever hear the saying, ‘Happy wife, happy life’? Drinking tea out of dainty teacups is a small thing that husbands can do to make their wives happy.”
He laughs loudly, baring an all-tooth smile. “I have heard that a time or two, and I’ll have to remember that. Still, these dainty teacups are easy to break. I once broke two expensive china teacups at my aunt’s house because the handles were too small.”
“Good thing these teacups aren’t all that expensive.” I look at the tray of drinks. “Which one of these drinks would you like?”
He searches the tray of beverages. “Would you think badly of me if I chose the beer this time of day?”
I want to laugh when I think of my glass of wine sitting on the kitchen counter. “No, not at all.”
“Ava, would you join me for lunch?”
I look around the empty tea room. I have a few tables to clean up, but I can do that later. “Sure, let me get my lunch from the kitchen.”
“Good, I hate to eat alone.”
“Me, too, I’ll be right back.” When I return from the kitchen, Xander is still sitting there; his food is untouched. He stands as I approach his table with my plate of food and glass of white wine. We talk about the history of Savannah and we also talk ab
out the bed and breakfast. He said he usually stays in hotels when he travels, but he thought he would try something different this time. I learn that he travels around the United States, and he works from home on his computer, or wherever he’s staying for the night. Home is where you lay your head, right?
When Skylar returns from running errands, Xander and I are still sitting at the table talking.
“Hi, am I interrupting?” she asks.
“No, not at all.” Xander stands and reaches his hand out for Skylar’s.
“Skylar, this is Xander Jamison. He’ll be staying with us for the next few weeks.”
Her eyes sparkle, and I swear I can see dollar signs in them. “Hi, nice to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine.”
She looks at him before she looks at me. “I have groceries to carry in, and I’ll clean up in here while you two finish your lunch.”
“We’re done. I’ll help you with the groceries.”
“I can also help,” Xander says, still standing.
Now I stand. “No, finish your beer, we can get everything. I can’t have our guests working and helping out. Thank you, anyway.”
“Are you sure?” He picks up his beer and downs what’s left in the bottle. “I’m finished here.”
Skylar and I laugh.
“Well, in that case, we could use the extra hand,” Skylar says.
I pick up my plate and he also picks up his plate and follows us through the door leading us to the huge kitchen. We set the dishes in the sink and go out the back door to Skylar’s car. He takes the heavier items and leaves the lighter items for Skylar and me to carry. Once everything is brought in, I show him his bill and he pays for the entire month. I then show him his room and hand him the room key. “Breakfast is served buffet style from seven to nine, and tea is served from one to three. Guests are welcome to use the seating areas in the house, the tea room, and the seating areas in the gardens and front porch anytime.”
“Is the extra key for the front door?”
“It is. I always forget about the extra key, but yes, it’s for both locks.”
“Do you and Skylar live on the grounds?”
“We do. We actually live in the house, so if there’s any problems we’ll be right here.”
“Very good. Thank you, Miss Ava. I certainly appreciate your hospitality.”
“You’re more than welcome, Xander. If you need anything, Skylar and I spend a lot of time in the kitchen or on the front porch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Skylar
Later that night I ask, “Who in the hell is that hunk of beefcake?”
“Shut up.” Ava laughs.
I also laugh. “All jokes aside, where the hell did he come from?”
“He walked in looking for a room for the month.”
“Is his girlfriend or wife staying here with him?”
“Nope, single occupancy.”
“Why is someone who looks that good, looking for a room by himself for that long?”
“I don’t know, and I didn’t ask.”
“Did you happen to notice he’s not wearing a ring?” Before she can say anything, I say, “Of course you did. You two had lunch together.”
“Just because he isn’t wearing a ring doesn’t make him single,” she says. “He was hungry and he didn’t like the tea or crumpets we served in the tea room.”
I’m teasing Ava because I love the smile of her face and she is so easy to joke with. “Since when do we have a full-service kitchen… and a bar?” I try to keep a straight face, but I can’t hold it any longer. I laugh and say, “He is totally into you.”
“Stop it. He was hungry and he needed a room. I was just able to provide both for him. He was nice, and he booked a room from us for an entire month.”
This is huge and it was good business on Ava’s part. Keep the customers happy and they’ll return. “Good job, but he was still into you. I don’t care what you say.”
Ava smiles and stands from the couch. “Good night, Skylar. Five o’clock comes pretty early in the morning.” She reaches down and picks up her book, Moving to New York, written by her new favorite author, Jami Alexander.
I also stand. “Yes, it does. See ya in the morning.”
In the morning we do our normal routine. We both shower and start the day with fresh hair and makeup. I’m not a morning person, and I never have been, but I do feel better when I am dressed and ready for the day earlier rather than later.
Once we’re dressed and ready, we turn the lights on in the house, and start preparing the coffee and breakfast for our guests. Usually the guests’ doors are closed tightly, but the room Ava issued to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome has an open door with his lights on. An early riser, just like Ava. I smile to myself and tend to filling the carafes of regular and decaffeinated coffee.
Just as the food is being placed on the table, our guests start to shuffle from their rooms into the formal dining room. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome is leading the pack. He smiles when he sees me, but he smiles brightly when he sees Ava.
Ava and I usually eat with the guests so we can recommend points of interest for them to visit in and around Savannah. Ava and I aren’t from the area, but we did a lot of research and rode many of the tour trolleys to learn about Savannah. The chafing dishes on the buffet ensure the food stays hot all through breakfast, and they allow Ava and me time to enjoy a meal with our guests. She and I sit at opposite ends of the 12-person dining room table. This way we can speak with everyone, and not just a few people sitting on one end of the rectangular table within hearing distance. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome sits nearest Ava. Of course he does.
One couple plans to visit the twenty-two historical squares that are located in Savannah. We recommend they take the trolley to the furthest square and work their way back. When Ava and I first opened the bed and breakfast, we noticed that many people would plan to explore the beautiful parks and the squares that Savannah is known for. That’s when we decided to offer picnic lunches at an additional fee for our guests. These lunches were a great idea and the picnic baskets range in size and price. While some people want something plain and simple, others want something fancier with imported wines and cheese. To each his own and we aim to please everyone.
Another couple plans to attend Mass at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.
Someone else has scheduled a ghost tour. Because Savannah is the oldest city in Georgia, it’s filled with stories of ghost hauntings and sightings. Ava and I share the story of when we repainted this old bed and breakfast when we first bought it.
“Ava and I both believe in ghosts, so when we repainted this old bed and breakfast, we left the outside colors the same. A white house with bluish-green shutters. It’s believed that the not-blue and not-green shutters help to keep the spirits out. Not wanting to take a chance if it works or not, we left the colors as they were originally painted. Oddly, the local independently owned store where we purchased the paint knew exactly the color of paint we needed. The name of the color is ‘Haint Blue.’”
That story gets many laughs everytime we tell it. People think we made it up, but it’s the God’s honest truth. In Savannah, “Haint Blue” is a real name for a paint color.
After breakfast, everyone leaves to begin exploring the beautiful city and to begin their day doing whatever it is they have planned. Xander, however, takes his laptop and sits on the porch swing on the wrap-around porch. Ava and I clean up while the two girls we hired start cleaning the guests’ rooms.
Just before noon, we’re able to sit outside in the rose garden and have a glass of sweet tea before we set up the tea room. Ava and I have a busy morning, but after the tea ends at three, the rest of the day is down time for the both of us.
“What are your plans for later?” I ask.
“I’m hoping to finish reading my book.”
“Are you stil
l reading the books written by Jami Alexander?”
“I am, I love all of her books. I tried to search for her biography using Google, but nothing comes up. It’s just a list of the books she’s written. Nothing is mentioned of where she was born and raised, nothing. Even her author photo is of her books, nothing personal is listed at all.”
“Um, Ava. You kind of sound a little stalkerish.” I laugh.
She pauses and takes a sip of her iced tea. “I’m just always interested in the authors of the books I read. I want to know something about the person who is capable of writing such enticing and gripping novels.”
I think for a minute and laugh. “What if it’s a guy and he’s using an alias?”
“Why would someone do that?”
“I’m not so sure I would read a romance book written by a male. I think it would be ingenious for a male to do that. Romance books written by a male would be a little different from those written by a female. He certainly would have a different perspective of things.”
“Wouldn’t he just use his sister’s photo, if he has a sister, and make up a fake biography?”
“Hi, am I interrupting?”
We both look up and Xander is removing his sunglasses. He’s standing there dressed in a white linen shirt and jeans. His hair is unruly, and his five o’clock shadow makes him look older than he is.
“No, not at all.” Ava smiles.
“I was heading out to get something to eat and wondered if I could bring you both something back for lunch?”
“It all depends on where you’re going,” I say, half teasing and half serious. Ava laughs although she looks embarrassed.
“I was heading out to Carla Jo Dean’s restaurant. According to this pamphlet, it’s one of the better places to eat.”
“And that pamphlet would be correct. Ava and I love the crab cakes and the dessert minis they have there.”
Ava stands, holding her book, and says, “You should have the buffet for lunch; that way you can get a variety of everything. She really is a great cook.”
“Thank you, I will. Can I bring you both something back?”
“Nothing for me, but thank you,” Ava says.
I also stand. “Nothing for me either, but thank you. We usually eat something here during the tea hours. Don’t want to stay for tea and crumpets?” I tease.
He laughs and says, “Not until you get teacups to fit man-sized hands.” I’m not sure what he’s talking about.
Ava says, “He accidentally broke the handle from a teacup yesterday.”
I remember seeing some superglue lying beside a teacup in the kitchen last night. “Happens all the time,” I lie.
Ava interrupts and says, “We need to set up for the tea, but I hope you enjoy your lunch.”
“Thank you. I’ll see you two later on today.”
Xander leaves and Ava and I set everything out for the tea. We have more people than normal and we restock the tea and food as needed. The tea room is soon becoming quite popular amongst the locals. Who doesn’t enjoy a flavored tea and something sweet in a beautiful rose décor room? One older woman once suggested we offer hats, feathered boas, and gloves to add to the tea experience. Ava and I haven’t done that yet, but if we ever go to an auction where these are available, I’m sure we’ll buy them and offer them for the ladies.
When everything is cleaned up, I leave during down time and go to my new favorite spot: Tybee Beach Pier and Pavilion. It’s located 15 miles east of Savannah, right on the Atlantic Ocean. Ava usually doesn’t want to leave, so she stays and oversees the bed and breakfast. I love Savannah and plan to see everything I can.
Chase calls me on the drive over to the beach. “How’s Ava doing?” he asks.
“I’m good, how are you?”
“I’m sorry, Skylar. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine and it’s okay. Ava’s doing well. You should call and talk to her.”
“I tried, but it went to voicemail. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay there with everyone.”
“I’m heading to the beach, and Ava was at the house when I left. She said she wanted to get some reading done.” I turn onto South Campbell and say, “You should come and visit for the weekend. The more I sightsee, the more I love it here.”
“I need to do that, maybe next weekend.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll tell Ava you called.”
“Have fun and don’t forget the sunscreen.”
“It’s already been applied. See ya.”
Xander Jamison
Once I’m in my car, I make the dreaded phone call to my business manager and friend, Wesley.
“Where in the hell have you been?”
“Calm down. I told you I was getting away for awhile.”
“And I told you I advised you not to.”
“Relax, I feel fine. I think the fresh air and the time away are doing me good. I feel great.”
“Where are you?”
“Why, so you can come and get me? Not gonna happen.”
“Look, I know you’re running away from the truth, and no matter how far you run, you can’t ignore what has already been confirmed.”
“Is that what you think? That I’m running away?” Am I running away? “If it is, then you’ve never been more wrong.” I look out the car window for a parking space near the city market. The long line outside of Carla Jo Dean’s restaurant tells me I may need to park down at the River Walk.
“Isn’t the news the reason why you left?”
No. I left so I could get some work done, and figure everything out. “I’ll be back shortly. I gotta go.”
“Dammit, Xander. Don’t you dare hang up on….”
“I’ll call you again later. See ya.” I hang up before he can get another word in. I really felt bad about leaving the way I did, but I had to. I didn’t have any other choice. I couldn’t listen to another word, and I have a deadline I need to make. People won’t be happy with me if I don’t perform, and God knows I needed to get away; I needed time to think, and to let the most recent news sink in.
I call Mom next. She won’t approve of my decision to leave, but she’ll understand it. I hope.
“Xander, are you all right?”
“Yes, Mother, I’m fine.”
“You know I hate when you call me that. It’s so impersonal.”
“Sorry, Mom. How are you?”
“I’m fine, but that’s not the important question. The important question is how are you?”
“I feel fine.”
“Good, now that you’ve sorted things out, it’s time for you to come home. We have things to discuss.”
“Mom, I’m not ready. I need more time to think.” She sighs. She’s not happy with me.
“Where are you?”
“Mom, please. I’ll be home soon. I just need to think.”
“Xander, I didn’t ask you that. I said, where are you?”
I can never lie to my mother. “I’m in Savannah.”
“Where in Savannah?”
“I’m staying at the Rose Garden Inn. Please don’t show up. I’m fine and I’ll be home as soon as I sort everything out.”
“Xander, don’t be silly. I have far more important things to do than to chase my adult son around Georgia. I know you’ll be home when you’re ready. But please, don’t wait too long.”
“I won’t, Mom. Thank you for understanding.”
“I don’t know if I understand, but I’ll give you some space. I love you, and call me if anything happens.”
“Thank you, and I love you, too.”
“And you’ll call me if something changes?” I can hear the worry in her voice.
“I will. I’ll call you first.”
“You can call me second. You know who to call first,” Mom says.
How can I forget? “Okay, I’ll call you second. I love you and I’ll talk
to you later.”
I park at River Walk and do a little sightseeing before having lunch. The cobblestone roads and the quaint shops make it an enjoyable walk up to the City Market where Carla Jo Dean’s restaurant is located. I think about the news I received before I left. Am I running away? Am I using work as an excuse to not deal with my real problems? I think about Ava and think that if nothing good comes from this trip, I at least met an incredible woman. At first I debate whether the line going into the restaurant is too long, but seeing that the line is diminishing quickly, I decide maybe the wait won’t be as bad as I think.
Ava
Having finished reading of Jami Alexander’s romances, I have been reading David Bruce’s William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet: A Retelling in Prose. It’s the classic play retold in modern English, with all of Shakespeare’s bawdy jokes clearly rendered. As I read, I think that if parents realized how bawdy Shakespeare’s jokes are, they would march with pitchforks and torches to the school library and demand that the book be taken off the library shelves.
While I sit out in the garden reading, and sipping on fresh squeezed lemonade, Xander appears with three bags. I set my book down and say, “Hey, I see you made it back.”
“That I did. You failed to mention that reservations might be a good idea. May I sit here?” He looks at the empty cast-iron chair across from me.
“Yes, please, sit down. Reservations? It’s a weekday, so why would you need reservations?”
He smiles, looking younger than he really is. “I don’t know, it may have something to do with Carla Jo Dean and her sisters’ monthly book signing.”
I cringe. “Sorry, I forgot about that. She and her sisters do have a book signing there once a month.”
“It’s okay.” He sets two bags down on the small iron bistro table and set the other one on the ground beside him. “The food was definitely worth the wait.”
“The food is pretty good, isn’t it?”
“It sure is. I picked something up for you and Skylar while I was there.” He hands me a bag, but his face is blank and serious.
“Thank you,” I say cautiously because his expression doesn’t reveal enthusiasm or excitement.
“The line starting from inside the restaurant leading outside to the sidewalk for the autographs told me her books were worth having. The food line was much shorter with seating inside, but the food was also definitely worth having.”
An uncontrolled smile forms across my face as I remove two of Carla Jo Dean’s cookbooks from the bag. I open one and see that it’s signed to Skylar. I close it and open the other one. It reads:
Ava,
Your friend is quite persistent. I hope you enjoy the cookbook. I am intrigued and plan to visit your quaint tea room at the Rose Garden Inn.
Yours truly, Carla Jo xo
“Oh! My! God! Thank you!” I stand up and Xander also stands. I think he may be frightened at my excitement. I try hard to keep it under control, but it’s difficult to do. I hug him and thank him again for such an awesome gift.
“It’s nothing, Ava, but you’re very welcome.”
I sit down and read the inscription again. “What does she mean that my friend is very persistent?”
“Well, I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently, they issue only three hundred wristbands at nine a.m., and you need a wristband to attend the two-hour-long book signing that begins at noon.”
“That’s true, they do. And you didn’t leave here until after eleven.” He smiles and it makes me laugh. “What did you do? How did you manage to get these books?”
“I guess it’s frowned upon to try to purchase wristbands from women once they have already been distributed by Carla Jo Dean’s staff and security.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“I did. I guess I don’t have enough money to purchase free wristbands. I also learned that women are serious about their cookbooks and about Carla Jo Dean.”
“They didn’t throw you out of the restaurant or the book signing, did they?”
“They wanted to.”
“I’m sure they did, what stopped them?”
“It seems Carla Jo has a soft spot for a crying man.”
“Stop it. You weren’t crying, were you?”
He looks at me and his eyes look like blue crystals. “No, I wasn’t.” He licks his lips and I can’t help but watch. “She had sympathy on me and let me have two books. Her sisters were already gone by this time, so I was able to get only her signature on each of the books for you and Skylar.”
“That’s an amazing story. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Skylar and I always wanted to go there for the book signing, but with the hours we work here, we’ve never been able to make it.”
“It worked out perfectly then. I was in the neighborhood, and she had some extra books on hand.”
“Thank you. I think this is the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me.” I have no memory so this is definitely the nicest thing that I can remember.
His smile fades. “If this is true, that’s very sad.” I remain silent. “Oh, I got you and Skylar something else.” Opening the other bag he reveals two to-go containers. “Crab cakes and dessert minis.”
“A man after my own heart. You didn’t have to.”
“I know, but I wanted to. After you making me lunch yesterday, and me repaying you by breaking your porcelain teacup, it’s the least I could do. Truce?”
No truce is needed, but I say, “Truce. Thank you again. Do you want to join me for some crab cakes and dessert?”
“I couldn’t eat another bite, but thanks. I have work to do and I best get busy since I blew the first half of the day wandering the beautiful streets of Savannah.” He stands with his gift bag and walks away.
“Have fun,” I tease. I don’t eat the food right away; instead, I wait for Skylar to come so we can eat it together. Reservations are steady and things are coming together for Skylar and for me. I think I have finally come to terms with the possibility that I may never get my memory back. I have no idea of the person I once was, but I like the person I am now. I think that’s all that matters. Still, it would be nice to recover all my memories from before I met Connor.
Mom and Chase call, and they both want to come for a visit this weekend. Mom said that Dad is busy so she’ll ride over with Chase if we have rooms available. I’ll always have a room for Chase and my mother. Skylar said she was going home this weekend to see her mom and brother. Mom and Chase can stay in the living quarters with me while she’s gone. Opening the bed and breakfast was my idea, and I don’t expect Skylar to give up her life to fulfill my dream, although I know she would and she would never complain about it.
On Sunday, right after breakfast, Mom, Chase, and I gather in the kitchen to prepare food for the week. Mom helps, while Chase watches. It’s a relaxed and fun time for all of us. Well, at least I think it’s fun for Chase. He samples the food and laughs a lot. Mom looks out the window and asks about the guy who is sitting under the oak moss tree. I look over her shoulder and see that Xander is on his computer working.
“That’s Xander Jamison.”
Chase stands and also looks out the window. “What kind of work does he do?”
“Computer work. I’m not sure exactly what he does.”
“He’s very good looking,” Mom says.
Yes, he is. “I haven’t noticed,” I lie.
Chase looks down at me and I ignore him. I walk back over to the oven to check the mini quiches that are in the oven. “What brings him to a bed and breakfast?” Mom asks.
“I have no idea. He paid for the room for four weeks with a credit card, and that’s all I cared about.” I do like him, and I like his company, but Mom and Chase don’t need to know that.
“Have you talked to him?” Mom asks.
“A little. He usually spends his time in the garden or
on the porch swing out front.”
“Let’s invite him in. Maybe we can get to know him more. You know, see if he’s married, stuff like that,” Mom says.
Before I can say anything, she’s out the door and walking in the direction of Xander. I watch out the window as he stands to greet her. Always a gentleman. They talk briefly before he closes up his computer and follows behind her towards the door. I quickly remove my apron and tighten my ponytail. I want to ask Chase how I look, but I don’t. I don’t want him to know that I care about my appearance now that Xander is coming in. Xander hasn’t met Mom or Chase yet. He didn’t join us for breakfast yesterday or today. Maybe he sleeps in on the weekends or something. He comes into the kitchen after Mom and immediately smiles when he sees me.
“So, I see you’ve met my mother.”
“She invited me in. I hope that’s okay?”
He looks uneasy and I wonder if Mom didn’t pressure him into joining us.
“It’s fine. This is what we do every Sunday, but usually it’s just me and Skylar.” I look over at Chase. “This is a close friend, Chase Murphy. Chase, this is Xander Jamison.”
They shake hands and I offer him a seat, while Mom removes the quiches from the oven. “Xander, we were going to try these quiches. Would you like one? Ava got this new recipe book with so many delicious recipes for us to try.” Xander looks at the counter and smiles when he sees the Carla Jo Dean cookbook he got for me. He doesn’t say where the cookbook came from, and I wouldn’t expect him to.
“I would love to sample Ava’s cooking, thank you.”
I get the coffee and Mom places the mini quiches on four plates for us, along with a cinnamon roll, and some of the French toast casserole we made for the upcoming week. We sit around the informal butcher block table and eat. It’s not as uncomfortable as I thought it might be.
“Ava, you’re quite the cook.”
“Thank you, Xander. I can’t take the credit, it’s Carla Jo Dean’s recipes.” We both smile and it’s our own little secret.
Chase talks to Xander, asking him where he’s from and what he does for a living. I’ve never asked him any of those questions. I wanted to, but I was worried that maybe I was prying. He rents a room and what would it be like if I started to ask him personal questions? Awkward, that’s how it would feel. He never asked much about me either, not personally anyway.
Chase and Mom leave and Skylar returns from her weekend away. “It’s hard work going home for the weekend.” I hold open the screen door for Skylar as she lugs her luggage up the porch steps. Lugs her luggage. I guess that’s how “luggage” got its name.
Skylar’s dad passed away when she was young and it was just her, her brother, and her mother. “Your mom had some things for you to do while you were there?”
“Just a few things. You know, paint the bedroom and wash the baseboards. Nothing too big.” She laughs. Skylar would do anything for her mother, even spend her weekend painting. “Do you know how much I hate washing baseboards?” she asks as if I don’t know.
“I know how much you hated painting them when we moved here.”
“Don’t remind me. I hate painting and I hate cleaning.”
I laugh. “Don’t we all. It’s not my favorite pastime either.”
Later in the week during tea time, Xander pops his head into the kitchen. “Hey, I hope you’re not busy.”
“No, not at all. C’mon in.” I’m standing at the refrigerator with the door wide open.
“He comes in and looks around the open space. “I was heading out to get some lunch, thought I might see if you and Skylar wanted me to bring you something back.”
I close the refrigerator door, holding all the ingredients I need to make a sandwich. “Skylar’s out for the afternoon, and I’m working the tea room. I was going to have a sandwich, but thanks for asking. I appreciate that.”
“No problem. I thought I would ask. See ya in a bit.” He turns to leave.
“Xander?”
He turns around and smiles. “Change your mind?”
“I have more than enough food, if you want to eat here with me.”
He looks at the all of the food I’m placing on the kitchen counter. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out or anything.”
I reach for the fresh Italian roll on the counter behind me. “Yeah, pretty sure I have more than enough food for the two of us.”
“Ava, if you’re sure. I was heading out….”
“Don’t be silly. There’s almost always enough food here to feed more than a few people. Grab a knife from the drawer; you can help me cut up the fresh vegetables.”
Xander cuts the tomatoes far better than I would have. His slices are thin, firm, and evenly sliced.
“Onions?” I ask.
“Sure.”
“Good, you can cut those up, too.” We both laugh. I like onions, but I don’t like cutting them. They make me cry and my nose runs. It’s a sight to see for sure. While he does that, I cut up the cheese, lettuce, and bread.
I check on the guests in the tea room before joining Xander back in the kitchen. He pours us both a glass of sweet tea and then we set our plates on the bistro table outside in the garden. “I hope this is okay? Seems like too beautiful of a day to waste it eating inside.”
“This is perfect. I love eating outside.”
In between bites, we talk briefly about his hometown of the Outer Banks, North Carolina, and about my hometown of Lake City, Florida. I’ve never been to the Outer Banks and I’m not surprised when he tells me he’s never heard of Lake City. It’s a small town in north Florida. Unless you live there, you have no idea where it is.
“You don’t sound country enough to come from a rural area. Especially a rural area from the South.”
“I was born and raised there, but my parents are from Ohio. They met when my dad was in the service and that’s where they made their home when he was discharged.”
“I’ll have to put Lake City on my bucket list of one of the places to visit before I kick the bucket.”
I was going to say something but I laugh instead. He said it so seriously that I thought he was serious at first. Maybe he is serious. When the laughter stops, I asked, “So what kind of business do you do?” I hope this isn’t too personal. I don’t know him and it looks like we may be spending a little time together in the next month.
“Graphic design, mostly. Thinking about starting up a blog.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting. What will you write about on your blog?”
“Books, health and wellness, vacation spots like Lake City, Florida.”
I smile with my mouth closed, and I try hard not to laugh or show my teeth since I just took a huge bite of my food. After I swallow, I say, “I’m almost positive that if you visited Lake City, you would not call it a vacation spot. It’s a great place and I love it there, but people drive through there to get to their vacation destination. Now, the Outer Banks, that’s a place to vacation.”
“It is,” he says. “It’s beautiful there with lots to do.”
He tells me about growing up there and how relaxing it is. I learn he loves to fish, and to just spend time outside.
After lunch, he offers to stay and help me clean up. When I insist I have everything under control, he takes his computer outside to the garden. When the afternoon tea is done and cleaned up, I sit on the porch swing and read.
The next morning, our day starts off as it always does. A delicious meal with our guests and polite conversation. Being an innkeeper is truly a wonderful job. I feel like I’m living vicariously through our guests. I can offer site-seeing spots for our guests to visit, and hear about their experience when they return. I’m also learning about some fishing spots for the men to visit while their wives shop. It’s not always easy trying to please everyone, but Skylar and I are doing our best.
A couple around 60 who have been staying with us are havi
ng their last breakfast before leaving today, and I can’t help but notice that they are amazing in how they treat each other. They are genuinely in love, they engage in real conversations about many topics, they make jokes that only they understand — it turns out that an EAR-DO is their name for what happens when a pet dog has one or both floppy ears flopped across its head — and they joke about things lots of people understand. It’s clear that they love each other, but it’s also clear that they have lots of interest in things other than just each other. This is a couple who can talk about more than work and family and television.
As the couple is getting ready to leave, Xander mentions how great they are, and how refreshing it is to see a couple getting along so well. He says, “I have known many men who complain about being married and losing their freedom; those men say that they would love to be single again. They complain that they work hard on their marriages and that being married is a lot more work than play. They complain that they have to work so hard on being married that they have no time to do anything other than that and work to make money.”
The woman asks him, “Are you married?”
Xander clears his throat before answering. “No. Never been lucky enough to find the right woman.”
“Well, do you know the expression, ‘Happy wife, happy life?’”
“I may have heard it a time or two.”
“Always remember this: That saying is nothing but what I call CUB: Complete Utter Bullshit.”
We all start laughing. That is not what I expected her to say.
The woman continues, “No one should give up their life in order to ‘work’ on their marriage. Of course, I’m not talking about small compromises.
“The saying is backwards. It should be, ‘Happy life, happy wife.’ A woman — and I know because I am a woman — falls in love with a man because she loves the kind of man he is. He is a man with passions and interests. A woman decides to marry the man because she loves the man he is then. People change, and their passions and interests change, but if a man changes after marriage into someone who thinks that he has to ignore all his passions and interests just so he can work on his marriage, he is going to stop being the man the woman fell in love with.”
Oh, that makes a lot of sense.
She continues, “And if the man is unhappy, how can he show her anything but unhappiness? The saying should be ‘Happy life, happy wife,’ my friend.
“The same thing applies to the woman. A man falls in love with a woman because he loves the kind of woman she is. She is a woman with passions and interests. She needs to have passions and interests, or she will stop being the woman he fell in love with. So another saying should be ‘Happy life, happy husband,’ my friend.
“But best of all would be this: ‘Happy lives, happy couple.’
“Marriages need time for play, and not just in the bedroom.”
Her husband nods; he is in total agreement.
I look around the table and everyone is listening to the woman. As the couple leaves, the other guests give them an ovation.
Xander was the first person to come down for breakfast this morning, and he stays the longest, drinking his coffee and enjoying and engaging in polite conversation. When the last person leaves, he says, “Ava, may I ask what are your plans this evening?”
Plans? I never have any plans since someone has to be here around the clock. “After the tea, I was going to try to get some reading done. Maybe sit outside under the moss tree.”
“Would you like to go sailing with me later?”
“Sailing? As in a boat?”
He laughs. “Yes, that’s the only kind of sailing I know.”
“You have a boat?” I ask.
“I do have a boat, but it’s not here. I’ve been renting one over by Tybee beach. I was hoping maybe we could have dinner on the boat, watch the dolphins, and maybe stay for the sunset.”
“She would love to. What time should she be ready?” Skylar asks.
“Is five p.m. a good time?” He’s looking at me although he’s answering Skylar.
“Perfect, she’ll be ready.”
I sit there with my mouth closed, not saying a word, but listening to Skylar and Xander making plans for me. A date with Xander. I think I like this idea, so why am I not saying anything? When I find my voice I ask, “Should I pack us a picnic dinner?”
I can feel all eyes are on me. “No, just bring yourself, and maybe a sweater. It can get chilly pretty quickly on the water.”
“Okay, then. My sweater and I will be ready at five.”
He stands and pushes his chair in. “Ava, I’ll see you later, and Skylar, thank you for everything.”
I watch as he walks away. “Anytime,” Skylar says.
“See you at five,” I finally say.
“Yes, you will, Ava,” he says as he walks out of the dining room. I hear the bell over the large entryway door and I know he has left the building.
During the afternoon tea time, a small delivery comes in under my name. It’s not the bulky, large deliveries we are accustomed to getting. This is smaller, more personal. I carry the not-too-large but heavy box over to the porch swing. Although I order almost everything online, I don’t recall ordering anything recently. Opening the box, I’m excited to see a new tea set, complete with a teapot, sugar and creamer, and six teacups and saucers, all with a dainty red rose design. Skylar joins me on the swing and also looks excited. “Oh, where did you order these from?” she asks as she lifts a beautiful cup and saucer from the box.
“I didn’t order them, I thought you did,” I look at her with a surprised look.
She doesn’t look at me but turns the teacup upside down to see who makes them and where they are from. “As much as I would love to take the credit for them, sadly, I can’t. Is there a card inside the box?”
I look through the box and there isn’t a card, but there are four oriental teacups without handles. I can’t help but smile when I realize the tea set is from Xander. I remember I told him I would have to order some teacups without handles for the men who have tea with their wives. Although it was mostly a joke, he thought it was a good idea.
“What’s so funny?” Skylar asks.
“These are from Xander.”
“How can you be certain?” she asks, not sure my guess is correct, or wondering why Xander would buy me a tea set.
I remind her of the story and she concurs. “Not just good looking, but he’s thoughtful, and he has great taste.”
I can’t help but agree. I planned on thanking Xander right away, but he’s still out for the day. After the noon tea, we wash the new tea set and I get ready for my date. Skylar French braids my hair, and I decide to wear a floral sundress and white sandals for my date. I also have a white sweater in case I need it for later. I have to admit, I’m looking forward to spending some time alone with Xander, and being away from the bed and breakfast. A little mascara and clear lip gloss, and I’m now ready.
The doorbell rings, which is very unusual for the inn. Most people looking for a room just walk in. I answer the door expecting to see a delivery guy, but I see Xander standing at the door holding a bouquet of stargazer lilies instead. I greet him with a smile. He is wearing white linen pants and matching shirt with pale blue stripes, and his signature tan Sperrys. He’s casual and sexy. He removes his sunglasses and returns my smile.
“Wow,” he says.
That’s the only response I need to get butterflies and a blush to my face. His hair is curly, unruly, and sexy. When I find my voice, I invite him in.
“Here, these are for you.” He hands me the pink and white flowers. “Thank you. They’re so beautiful,” I say honestly. I lift them to my nose and inhale.
“I guess the florist was right.”
“Right about what?”
“She said you can’t go wrong with lilies.”
Smiling, I say, “And she would be correct. You
’re a smart man to listen to her. Come back with me while I put them in water.” I lead the way into the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. Xander stands in the doorway and watches me. I want to look over at him, but I concentrate on filling the vase with water instead. I cut the stems and arrange them neatly in the vase. “I got a delivery today.”
“Fresh fruits and vegetables?” he teases. I think he’s teasing. He isn’t smiling so I can’t be sure.
I watch him. “I got this beautiful tea set for six handleless oriental teacups.” I wait for him to reply, but he doesn’t, he just watches me. He isn’t going to take credit for sending them. “Thank you, they’re absolutely beautiful.” Still no reply. Am I just assuming he sent them? “The men attending the afternoon teas with their wives also thank you.”
Now he laughs. “And that’s what gave me away.”
“It is. But, seriously, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I did. I felt bad about breaking your teacup.”
He looks remorseful and I feel bad. “I told you not to worry about it. It was something I picked up at a yard sale, and it’s not a big deal, but I do like the ones you sent better than the one you broke.”
“You’re welcome, Ava. I’m glad you liked them.”
I look at the stunning vase of flowers. “I have the perfect place for these. I pick up the vase and smile as I walk past Xander. He turns and walks behind me. I place the beautiful stargazer lilies on the center of the round table in the foyer. I rearrange a stack of my Jami Alexander books and a few other knickknacks neatly around the table. I stand back and admire the flowers. “Perfect.”
“You’re a romance reader?” Xander steps closer to the table and picks up the book on top of the stack.
“I am. This author is new to me, and I love everything she’s written so far.”
He reads the back of the book cover before he puts the book down and says, “Since when did a book with a drug addict classify as a romance book?”
“It’s romance with a twist. She writes about problems real people face, while somehow she manages to give everyone a happily ever after.”
“Only a woman could come up with something like that and make it happen.”
“Or someone who understands women.”
He steps back from the table and asks, “Are you ready?”
“I am. Let me tell Skylar we’re leaving, and let me get my beach bag. I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Xander
I wait patiently for Ava in the foyer. I scan the stack of twelve books on the table all written by the same author. I read the blurbs on the back of a few books. Of course, she’s right: The books are written about normal people with real problems. Down syndrome, poverty, illnesses, and even domestic violence survivors.
Nervously, I step away from the table and readjust my shirt collar. I fidget with the change in my pocket, as I replay everything in my head. Do I have everything? Did I plan this date to be special enough? I know very little about Ava, but I know enough to know that she is someone special. If I want to get to know more about her, I have to be someone she’ll want to spend some time with. How much of my life do I share? How much can I tell her before she runs away? Not much — that I know for sure. I can tell her things about my earlier years; that’ll be safe enough.
I hear footsteps coming down the hall, and I stand more confidently than I feel. When Ava appears, I swear she looks more stunning than the last time I saw her. I want to know more about her. I want to know who she is, where she came from. I also want to know her hobbies, her likes, and her dislikes.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to make sure I have everything.”
“No apologies needed. Not sure what you thought you’d need this evening, but it looks like you have more than enough.” I reach my hand out for her beach bag. “I’ll take that for you, it looks heavy.”
It looks like she wants to say something different, but she says, “Thank you,” instead.
I put the top down on the convertible and she stares out the window on the drive to the beach. She smiles, and she’s removed her hat and replaced it with sunglasses. She has dimples that I’ve never noticed before.
“You have dimples.”
She tries to hide her smile. “I do. They don’t show all the time.”
“Only when you smile.”
“And laugh,” she adds.
“They look good on you, you should wear them more often.”
She looks over at me as if it’s the first time she’s ever heard those words. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome, it’s the truth.” Savannah offers beautiful scenic routes and it’s easy to get lost in its beauty. I make a mental note to try to get her out as much as I can while I’m here. She’s always at the inn and either doesn’t have time or doesn’t make the time to enjoy what Savannah has to offer.
Once we set sail in the large rented boat, I notice her dimples are deeper than I originally noticed. She looks young and carefree. I’ve never seen this side of her before.
“So, you’ve never been sailing before?”
“If I have, I don’t remember.”
I’m a little confused by her comment. If you’ve been on a boat, wouldn’t you remember it? I don’t mention it. “I thought we could do some dolphin watching first, then have dinner.”
“Sounds perfect. Do you come out here often?”
“I try to go boating every chance I get. But, since I’m here and without a vessel, I’ve rented a boat only a few times. I’ve asked the people who work at the pier about dolphin watching, and they led me to this certain area.” I steer the boat in the direction I need to go. “There were dolphins the last time I was there, but since I’m trying to impress a pretty girl, we probably won’t see any.”
She laughs, revealing dimples, and a blush comes her cheeks. As soon as I turn into the cove; we see dolphin fins coming up out of the water.
“Look!” she says, pointing to the pod of about six dolphins.
Good, they’re here, and I think she’s impressed. I lower the sail and open a bottle of champagne. I don’t think she even noticed the pop and the cork. When I hand her the glass of champagne, she looks surprised.
“Oh, I love champagne, thank you.”
“Are you hungry? I thought we could have some fresh fruit while we watch the dolphins.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
I open the lid to the wooden picnic basket and remove the plastic wrap from the prepackaged pineapples and strawberries. I hear a soft giggle coming from behind me. Maybe the meal I planned will be more impressive than the appetizer. I hope so, anyway.
“They’re such nice mammals,” she says, looking at the dolphins.
I have to agree. “They are; it’s so calming to watch them.
She smiles at me as she picks up a slice of fresh pineapple, and turns to watch the dolphins. With her back to me, I watch Ava instead of the dolphins. I watch the way the loose strands of hair blow in the wind. I notice how straight her back is even when she’s relaxed. My guess is that she has had years of dance lessons. I also notice her manicured natural nails with nothing but clear polish on her fingers and toes. Such natural beauty; truly a rare and pleasant find. She is so classy, but she isn’t like other women all made up with unnecessary makeup and/or created out of plastic surgeries. Single solitaire diamond earrings grace her single pierced earlobes.
Once the dolphins have fed, they leave the area. It was nice while it lasted.
“Shall we eat?” I ask.
“It depends on what you brought for us to eat,” she teases.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked. I did find some cold cuts on an Italian roll that says on the packaging that it’s fresh until tomorrow.” I maintain a straight face so she can’t tell I’m teasing.
She crinkles her nose but says, “Sounds delicious.” The
crinkle on her nose doesn’t match her words. I reach inside the picnic basket and pull out a white linen cloth. I drape it over a makeshift table on the boat. Next, I pull out two containers of homemade clam chowder soup and some homemade bread for dipping. Her eyes get big but she remains quiet. I pull out two spinach salads, two entrées of pecan-crusted salmon with lemon glaze, with roasted potatoes. I decide to leave the dessert minis from Carla Jo Dean’s restaurant in the picnic basket.
“This doesn’t look or smell like cold cuts.”
“I didn’t say I bought them; I just said I found them.”
She thinks back on the conversation before she smiles. “You’re right. I misunderstood you.” She watches me set everything out. “So, should I assume from the porcelain dishes and silverware that you made this dinner yourself from scratch?”
“No, you should never assume anything. Especially from me.”
She looks confused. “Okay. It smells delicious, but I’m lost here.” She looks at the table and scoots closer to get a better look. “These are Carla Jo Dean’s dishes. I can tell them anywhere. Only her dishes have the ivy pattern around the edge.”
I smile. She’s pretty and smart.
She opens the picnic basket and looks inside. “Those are her dessert minis I love so much. If you ordered food to go, wouldn’t they put everything in to-go containers?”
Normally they would. “I guess she likes me.”
“She doesn’t even know you.” I can see the confusion on her face.
“I went in and ordered the dinners to go, she saw me, and I explained that I was trying to impress you. She said something about it being impossible to impress a girl with Styrofoam carry-out containers. So she offered me her restaurant’s dishes with the promise I would return them unbroken.”
“Well, Mr. Jamison. If I wasn’t impressed before, I certainly am now.”
“Well, thank you, Miss Emerson. Shall we eat?”
During dinner, we talk about more personal things than we ever have. I share with her that I have an identical twin brother named Andrew, and that my parents are still married to each other.
I ask her, “What about you? Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“No, I’m an only child. My past is somewhat… how should I put this… confusing.” She looks out towards the sunset.
I ask cautiously, “How’s that?” God, please don’t tell me you’re married with kids. That would totally suck.
She looks at me with empty eyes. “I don’t have any siblings. You’ve already met my mom, and she’s still married to my father. Chase and Skylar are my best friends, and you’ve already met both of them.”
Whew, no husband and kids. “Doesn’t sound too confusing to me.”
“I suffer from amnesia. I have no memory of anything prior to fifteen months ago.”
“You’re an amnesiac?”
“Since I suffer from amnesia, yes, that would make me an amnesiac.” She smiles and reveals those deep dimples.
“Sorry. I’m just trying to figure this out.”
“It’s okay. It’s a lot to take in.”
“How did that happen?”
“I was married and from what I’ve been told, we were going out to dinner to celebrate our second wedding anniversary.” She pauses as if she’s trying to remember. “There was a car accident, and Connor, my husband, was killed, and I was in a coma for several weeks.”
“Oh, Ava. I’m sorry for your loss. I had no idea.”
“Thank you, but it’s okay. Sadly, I don’t remember him, and I realize I may never get my memory back. I have to move on and make new memories.”
“Do you remember anything at all?”
“Some things have come to me in my dreams, but no, I haven’t remembered anything to make me believe I’m this magnificent chef, or some mathematician, or an international jewel thief, or anything like that.”
I love her sense of humor. “Wow. This is an incredible story. I honestly had no idea. I have a newfound respect for you.”
“Don’t,” she laughs. “The amnesia is probably an easy way out. Having to deal with the death of my husband, and missing him everyday, I imagine, that would be harder than not remembering him at all.”
“I don’t know about that. Was it weird for you when you finally went home after waking up from the coma?”
“It was. The clothes in the closet fit me, but they didn’t look like anything I would wear. The neighbors would see me and start talking to me, like I knew them.” She tells me about seeing Chase and Skylar for the first time and having no recollection of either of them. “Skylar had this box of memories she kept of the things we did together. When I looked through the box, and after she explained what everything meant, we immediately became friends, and Chase, well, that didn’t happen as quickly.” She laughs, and I don’t pursue why she and Chase didn’t become friendly right away.
She runs her hands up and down her arms. “Are you cold?”
“It’s getting a little chilly. I have a sweater in my bag.”
“I’ll get it for you. I have some coffee in a thermos, if you want some.”
“You brought coffee?”
I hand her the sweater and as much as I want to take the credit for the coffee, I can’t. The credit goes to Carla and her staff. “I do, with creamer and sugar.”
“Carla really did think of everything.”
I couldn’t have taken the credit even if I wanted to. “She did.”
While we watch the sunset, we have dessert and coffee. I try to focus on the beautiful sky, but I can watch only Ava. I knew she was someone special from the first time we met. I’m drawn to her, and I want to be the one to put happiness back into her isolated world.
Forgetting the Past Page 6
