by Frankie Love
“Well, we haven’t actually exchanged photos. So, I guess I won’t be disappointed when I see him.” I step out of the dressing room the same time Janet, Cecily and Sophia do.
They all cock their heads at me in concern.
“Wait, isn’t that like a requirement on those online sites?” Cecily asks. Cecily met her husband online and she’s right. That is a requirement.
“We didn’t actually meet online on a dating site. I mean, he just emailed me out of the blue. And we started talking.”
“How did he know to email you?” Sophia presses.
Not feeling like I have anything to hide, I’m straight up. I am not in the habit of lying to my sister, and I’m not going to start now. Besides, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I needed to try a different approach to my life, be more open minded and accepting.
So, I am choosing to be accepting of HOG.
And I hope sometime soon he will be brave enough to reveal who he really is.
And if he’s the pizza delivery guy, so be it. Hearts don’t lie... and right now, mine is burning strong.
“He says he met me before, but I don’t know his name.” As I’m explaining the last part Mom rejoins us, and Sophia quickly gets her up to speed.
“Oh, Ava, darling, you’re falling in love with a stranger?” she asks, her eyes full of pity.
“Love?” I shake my head. “We’re just friends, just getting to know one another.”
That’s what I tell them, but deep down I feel like my heart is knit with his in ways I would never have guessed. I wake up wanting to see if he has emailed, I go to sleep with his sweet words on my lips.
Sophia frowns. “You always do this, Ava Grace.”
“Do what?”
“Go for the least available, most detached man possible. Samson was a low point, but this stranger who, for all you know, is a ninety-five-year-old man in Daytona? This is really sad.”
“He’s not living in Daytona. I don’t know anyone who lives in Daytona. I've never even been to Daytona. I mean I did go there once but that was just because I got lost on my way back from a 'Love Yourself, You Deserve It' seminar, and I stopped off to have waffles because, well, you know—I deserved them. Wait, why are we talking about Daytona?”
Sophia looks at me as if I am pathetic and just plain old crazy. “Maybe you should find out who this person is before you start making life decisions based on him.”
I swallow, feeling her sharp reprimand and knowing she is exactly right.
Also, suddenly dying for a waffle.
Chapter Eleven
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
Want to exchange photos?
AG
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
How about we exchange some other things first? There is still so much I want to know about you.
Favorite song?
Favorite food?
Favorite place?
Favorite person?
I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’ve been hurt before. This time, I want to get things right.
HOG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
I get that. It’s just not totally fair. You know who I am.
Still, I’ll play nice. Mostly because I’m a nice person, lol.
Favorite song? Hands down, Jon Bon Jovi, Living on a Prayer. I want this song played at my wedding one day as I walk down the aisle with my husband. Some may think JBJ is cheesy AF—but I unabashedly think he’s the greatest. He married his high school sweetheart for goodness sakes! And he’s like fifty and can still rock leather pants. That’s damn cool.
Favorite food? My grandpa Bill’s chili. He died about five years ago, but he made award-winning chili. I have his recipe and make it every year on his birthday. But if I were to go out to eat in Denver, my favorite place is an Italian restaurant called, Little Mia Mia.
Favorite place? This might sound seriously weird... but I love ice-skating. Sometimes I go on a weekday morning when the rink is empty, and I skate for an hour, probably embarrassingly bad—but I don’t care. I feel like an ice princess, making circles and figure eights. Also, it’s a workout. So, there’s that.
Favorite person? While you’re inching up my list, Grandpa Bill has a special place in my heart—he believed in me in ways no one else ever has. He was the person who taught me how to make my first piece of jewelry.
We’d go to his shop and he taught me how to use a soldering tool. In his will, he left me enough money to start my business. He was a widower for most of my life, and I never met my grandma, but his love for me taught me that what real love means. When he died, he was buried wearing one of my rings.
So, you must answer those questions too, and then answer these for me:
What are you doing for Christmas? (It’s in a few days you know.)
What is your address? (I want to send you your Christmas gift.)
Do you have plans for New Year’s Eve? I don’t. We could meet when the ball drops...
AG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
It’s Christmas Eve and I haven’t heard from you in days. Did I do something wrong?
Maybe asking for your address is too personal, but telling you all about my hopes and dreams is personal too.
Hope you have a good Christmas.
AG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
Well. It’s NYE. You haven’t written me for two weeks.
I know we don’t owe one another anything, but I don’t understand you. My sister told me to block your email because I opened up to you and then you just dropped me. And the truth is, it hurts. A lot. People always say I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I always chose to take it as a compliment. But now I just feel like a fool.
AG
From: heartofgold
To: avagracewentworth
AG,
Sorry I didn’t write for so long. I didn’t intend to hurt you. You are not a fool. You are funny and tender and too fucking good for me.
I should admit I didn’t know what to say when you asked for my address. I wasn’t ready to go there yet.
And I’m still not.
But I don’t want to lose you. Can we try again, backing up to a place that doesn’t make me run?
Favorite song? Let It Be by The Beatles. Speaking of people, we’ve loved and lost: my mom died when I was young. She sang that song when she washed the dishes, swept the floor, chopped vegetables for dinner. It was her mantra. I wish I could make it my own, but I am nowhere near as easy going as she was. My thoughts get the best of me. It’s near impossible to turn off the noise. That is something I admire in you. You come across as someone who is always present.
Favorite food? Hands down, my homemade mac and cheese. It’s the one thing I can cook and cook well. Comfort food at its finest.
Favorite place? The mountains. No question.
Favorite person? You. The only problem is, I know I may have fucked things up beyond repair.
Have I?
I wish we’d been together when the ball dropped at midnight on NYE. I would have kissed you.
HOG
From: avagracewentworth
To: heartofgold
HOG,
I’m not going to lie. Seeing your reply in my inbox gave me butterflies. I wanted to kiss you on NYE too, but I should be honest, I always go for unavailable men. Men who refuse to commit. To me.
I’m not doing that anymore.
Things are over between us.
I need a man who understands that my heart is fragile. That it has been broken so many times before.
I get the impression that this is a game to you.
But it’s more than a game to me.
It’s my life, and I’m sorry, but you can n
o longer be in it.
Ava Grace
Chapter Twelve
When I receive the final email, I know I’ve fucked things up. Badly.
I started talking to her through email so she could learn to trust me... but now she’s just going to be pissed. She’ll be angry that I played her for a fool. That I slept with her, and left her, and then decided to pretend I was someone else to get to her.
Except I’m not pretending. When I write to her, the person I present is the person I truly am.
I thought if I went cold turkey, let her have her holidays to herself, maybe I would get over her or she would get over me.
But dammit, all it did was cause me to sleep like shit for two weeks straight, and wish I were in a place to commit to her. Forever.
Because that is what Ava Grace deserves.
And now the emails are over.
If I write her again, I’m going to need to tell her the truth. And if I tell her the truth then she’ll never see me as someone she can trust.
New game plan: When I’m in town for the Bachelor party, I will win her over.
And just hope she isn’t still heartbroken over HeartofGold and has space in her heart for me.
The party is everything I hate. Loud shitty music, douchey guys in collared shirts and ties gyrating against half dressed women, shots of crappy liquor—fucking kamikazes and buttery nipples—being passed around. And strippers that look like they need to go home and have a warm glass of milk and bedtime story.
“This is epic,” Taylor shouts over the pop music blaring at the dance club post strip tease. “You guys fucking rock!” Taylor’s tie is wrapped around his forehead, his shirtsleeves are rolled up, a rum and coke in hand as he jumps to the music.
His buddies all give him fist bumps, hovering and grinding against the women on the dance floor.
I grin at my kid brother, thinking that if anyone dared throw me a party like this I’d just straight-up leave. Sure, I hate this vibe—but I love him. But staying doesn’t require me to stay on the dance floor.
I move to the bar, order a whiskey neat, and take a drink, look around the club, shaking my head at the antics that are so far from my day-to-day life.
Scanning the room, I do a double take. A party has just arrived. A woman in all white, a tiny white mini-dress, a veil on her head, a sash across her body reading BRIDE. Sophia is here.
And so is her entire party.
A group of women in tiny dresses, big hair, sloppy drunk, and smiling ear-to-ear lead her to the dance floor. I watch the herd cross the room, all eyes on them, and then I see Taylor realize his bride-to-be is here. A loud drunk laugh that tells me everyone is having fun erupts as the two parties merge into one wild, dancing mob.
I laugh, shaking my head as Sophia wraps her drunken arms around Taylor and gives him a kiss.
Behind me, I hear someone say, “Cute, right?”
I know that voice. I turn to face her, Ava Grace. Her eyes look heavy as she takes me in. I swallow her up. She is in heels, showing off her amazing calves, she wears a sparkly dress, shiny and gold just like her laugh. Her breasts are pressed together, drawing the eye of every man in the room, her curvy hips are accentuated by the form-fitting dress, reminding everyone that she is a woman, as if there were any doubt. She looks like pixie dust. Magic.
“Look at you,” I say slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel like I know this girl inside and out, and all I want to do this weekend is find the time to lay it all out for her. Tell her the truth. That I am the man she has fallen for.
“Look at you,” she says, brow raised. “So, do you want the speech now, or later?” she asks.
My brows furrow. Speech? Does she know who I am?
“Uh, now,” I tell her.
She folds her arms. And then unfolds them. Raises a finger, pointing at me. Fiery and sassy and so damn cute.
“I don’t appreciate the way you told your brother about our night together. Now my sister knows, and the entire wedding party knows. We’re adults here. What kind of dude tells their brother about their hook-ups?”
My eyes widen in surprise. I was not expecting this. “Tell Taylor what?” I’m trying to catch up.
“You told him that we spent the night together.” She crosses her arms, fuming. Damn, I think, this girl has got some ammo.
I think back to the day I saw Taylor after my night with Ava Grace. Our talk at the coffee shop. “It wasn’t like that. He asked where I stayed the night, it came up.” I watch Ava’s eyes consider me with skepticism. “I didn’t give him details if that’s what you are wondering.”
Ava drops her arms as if she believes me, just like that. She sits down at the bar ordering a vodka soda, and I swivel my bar stool beside her. “Honest?” she asks.
“Honest. The last thing I fucking want to do is screw anything up for anyone here. I want my brother to be happy, he deserves some happiness.”
“Oh yeah?” Ava smirks. “Seems like Taylor has a pretty cushy life, does he really need you looking after him?”
“Maybe not. But he’s still my little brother. And life was hard when we were young. Our parents died, and shit, we were in foster homes and stayed with relatives for a bit, but I have always been his family.”
“That’s a pretty heavy confession for a club called Studio 69.” Ava smiles at me, warmly.
I shake my head. “My bad. Sorry.”
“I’m sorry that your parents died.” Ava sips her drink, then surprises me. “A guy I recently dated told me his mom died when he was young too, it just breaks my heart to think of anyone losing their parents when they are young. It just really puts things into perspective.”
I raise a glass, unable to speak, knowing she is talking about me; about Heart of Gold.
She clinks her glass with mine. “To cherishing every moment.”
“Every moment,” I repeat.
She laughs, shaking her head. “Sorry about getting so pissed over Taylor. Maybe it was more me being hurt knowing that after we had an amazing night it was enough for you.”
“It wasn’t enough for me.” I’m trying to figure out how to explain the HOG situation, but before I can, Sophia and Taylor crash into us.
“Ohmigod, you guys are so freakin’ cute!” Sophia squeals. “Are you gonna hook up again? Because you have to, Samson. She needs some fun so bad.”
Ava slaps her sister’s arm. “Shush,” she whisper-yells.
“What?” Sophia slurs, clearly smashed. She would never be so enthusiastic about me having a potential fling with Ava Grace otherwise. Taylor’s arm is snaked around her waist and she wags a finger at me. “My poor sis has had the worst week. She was in love with a man and then he dumped her. Splat. Kablooey. Bang bang bang. Except not. They never banged, did you sweetie?” she says to Ava. “Never banged once, and what is worse—she doesn’t even know him.”
I look over at Ava, her eyes are filled with tears. “Stop it, Sophia, please.”
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Sophia drunkenly moans. “Taylor fix something. I messed it up.”
“I’ll help by pulling you away from this situation,” Taylor says, and Sophia acquiesces. She blows kisses to Ava, who smiles back bleakly.
“Well, that was awkward.”
“What was? Your drunk sister? Or the reality that she and Taylor are making out twenty feet away?”
Ava waves her hand in the air. “No, that you heard all that. The entire pathetic truth.”
“What is pathetic about it?”
She laughs sharply. “What is pathetic is that I fell, once again, for a man who is unavailable. I trusted him too, you know that? I trusted a stranger and he broke my heart. If I ever see him, you know what I’ll do?” she asks me.
“What?” I ask. “What will you do?”
“I’ll punch him in the face and kick him in the balls. It’s a shitty thing to win a girl over only to walk away.”
I run my hand over my beard. “And what if this guy apologized,
came clean, tried again?”
Ava Grace picks up her vodka, shaking her head. “No way. I am done with forgiving. All it does is leave me hurt. There are no more second chances. He had his chance and he blew it.”
I swallow, my entire fucking game plan is screwed.
So, maybe I don’t tell her the truth. Maybe I just try to take what I’ve learned over the last month and remain open. Not closed up. Maybe I try to earn her love, but this time without any barriers.
“Did I blow it too?” I ask, smiling softly at this woman who is honest and genuine and incapable of holding back.
She frowns, her face so fucking sad in that moment and I want to wrap my arms around her and hold her close and tell her she is perfect. That she makes me laugh and that Bon Jovi is terrible taste in music but that I don’t care, because aren’t we all just living on a prayer?
“My heart can’t handle another man taking me for granted.”
“Then let me take you out, not for granted —but on a date,” I tell her.
“Are you just looking to get in my pants, Samson? Because—”
“No,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I am asking you out on a date.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next night Samson picks me up, at seven o’clock on the dot.
I asked my sister to get the inside scoop before the date—obviously—and she found out that Samson was just here for one more night.
She made me swear that I wouldn’t get all crazy for a man who wasn’t available, and I crossed my heart.
But last night at the club Samson looked different, sounded different too than I remember. Like he was more present, more genuinely interested. I don’t know much about him, but I guess tonight I am going to find out.
