I wondered if we’d find enough to talk about. Anything in common beyond the case I didn’t want to discuss and the seven hours last year that seemed to loom, silent and heavy, over our every interaction.
I should’ve known better.
“So I’m curious. Is ‘No rest for the wicked’ an actual thing, or do lawyers go on summer vacation?” she asked when we’d gotten our drinks and ordered food.
I let the prod slide since her voice was teasing. “Usually I go to my family’s place in the Hamptons. But not this year.”
“So you’re close with your family? Brothers or sisters?”
My chest tightened.
“What, did I say something wrong? I’ve been good.” She frowned. “For me, at least.”
“It’s not that.” I took a sip of soda before answering, hoping it’d sooth the rawness in my throat. “I had a brother. A year younger.”
“Had?” She was immediately alert.
I nodded. “Jamie died last summer. After I moved back to New York.”
I figured if I told it enough times, I could say the words without my heart pounding. Without my chest ripping.
But my heart always pounded. My chest always ripped.
I waited for the questions. She didn’t ask any. Instead, she reached out her hand and wove her fingers with mine. “I’m sorry, Nate.”
“It’s OK,” I muttered. “I’m past it.” I tried to pull my hand back but she wouldn’t let me.
Ava looked at me, eyes wide and brimming with compassion. “I don’t think people ever get past something like that.”
She was right. It wasn’t OK. It never would be. But she didn’t know why and I wasn’t about to tell her.
The waitress delivered our food and Ava pulled her hand from mine.
“I don’t know what that’s like,” Ava said softly when the waitress had retreated to the kitchen. “To lose a brother. But all families have their issues. My dad was into gambling. Poker mostly, but some other stuff too. Sports. Horse racing. He lost a lot of my parents’ money.”
Our eyes locked. “You didn’t know he had a problem?” I asked.
Ava shook her head and I saw the worry in her gaze before she dropped it to the food in front of her. “My younger brother covered it up and got Dad help. For more than two years my mom and I had no idea. It was a stupid move, but Dylan thought it would save our family. Mom and I just found out. It’ll be years, if ever, before they get their savings back.”
I was surprised she’d told me all this. But maybe it was part of who she was—unguarded, open. My opposite in more ways than I could count. “It’s brave. What your brother did.”
“And stupid.” She finally opened her chopsticks and took a bite of food, making an appreciative noise before swallowing. “I don’t like lies. Or secrets. Even if they’re for a good cause, they always hurt people in the end. But I guess the one good thing to come out of last year’s drama was Dylan and Lex. I never would have matched them up, they’re so different.” A faint smile played on her mouth like she was talking about people who meant a lot to her. “Lex is that friend who’s always been there for me. She’s smart, funny, and has your back. Dylan’s just … Dylan. But somehow it works.”
“Yeah.” I took in the girl in front of me. It was incomprehensible that no matter what drove us apart, we kept getting thrown back together. “I want you to know that last year, what you saw … that wasn’t me. I was going through some shit.”
“I get it, Nate, and you don’t need to explain.”
I watched her closely as I sipped my drink. “Do you regret coming home with me?”
“No,” she said simply, and a knot eased in my chest. “Don’t get me wrong, Nate. It was a fucked-up night, but it was what it was meant to be. One night,” she emphasized, tapping her chopsticks against her plate. “Real relationships are hard to come by. My last serious boyfriend was Tommy McMillan.”
“Was this before or after we …?”
“Before,” Ava confirmed. “But we broke it off on account of irreconcilable differences. Isn’t that what you lawyers call it?” She smiled but I was still fighting the urge to find Tommy McMillan and reconcile his face with my fist. “Anyway, it was dogs or cats that did us in,” she said.
“Now you’ve lost me.”
“In third grade we were both passionate about our favorite animals.”
I felt cheated. “That doesn’t count. You’re saying you’ve never been serious about someone.”
“It does count,” she insisted. “Think about it, Nate. When you’re eight years old, everything you love and hate is genuine. There’s no worrying about what your friends will think, whether he likes you, or if you’ll come on too strong.” Ava sighed wistfully. “Tommy gave me a ring made out of Disney Princess Band-Aids. We dated for half the school year. He was my longest relationship ever.”
“No one else even made the highlights reel?”
She shrugged. “Chris Marcus was—” she counted on her fingers “—one semester junior year of college. We used to shout at each other all night and wake Lex up,” she confided. “We broke up when he realized I wasn’t going to play doting girlfriend to his jock status.”
“Football?”
“Basketball.”
I filed that away. “Is that all?”
Ava considered, then shook her head. “Travis Waters was two months. He’d bring me flowers every week. Liam Torrence spoke four languages and came to San Diego on exchange. We dated three weeks until he had to go home.”
I watched the way she rhymed off guys as easily as days of the week. A possessiveness I had no right to feel made me ask, “What was I?”
Part of me didn’t want to know. In case I hadn’t even made an impression.
Ava picked up another piece of food and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly and swallowed before answering. “You, Nate Townsend, were my only one-night stand.”
After Jamie’s death I’d gone through a lot of girls. All casual. Mostly one night. Ava didn’t make a habit of sleeping around. Yet she’d chosen me.
Christ.
If I’d known she never did this, I’d have been, what—gentler?
Hell, the truth was I never would’ve taken her home. And that was something I couldn’t regret.
I wondered if Ava saw the thoughts and feelings parading through my eyes.
“What people don’t get,” Ava went on finally, “is that most relationships have an expiry on them. Usually it’s shorter than you think. People delude themselves into thinking every relationship is ‘the one.’ The one you’d give up anything for. The person you need, want, trust. Who needs, wants, and trusts you too. Who’s worth wading through all the shit for.”
A couple walked by holding hands. We watched them take a seat across from us, side by side. Sharing a menu.
“So you’re saying you believe in forever, but you’ve never been in love.” I didn’t understand her, but some part of me wanted to.
“You mean steals-your-breath, strips-you-bare, making-out-to-indie-music-because-nothing-mainstream-could-possibly-capture-what-you’re-feeling kind of love?” She twirled a strand of dark hair, nearly dry, around her finger absently. “No. But when I am, I’ll know.” A dreamy smile tugged gently at her lips.
I wished I had that kind of faith in anything. Hearing her describe feeling that way made me ache for it.
“What about you, Nate?”
Pain flashed behind my eyes. “Once. Got the short end of that stick.”
Ava was about to ask something else, but we were interrupted as the waiter brought the check. I glanced at it before sliding a black card into the folder and pressed her hand away when she moved to slide a twenty toward me. “Least I can do.”
“Thanks,” she said with a small smile. “So before, when I said this place was invisible, I was just being nice. How do you not know this is here?” she asked again as we pushed through the door, holding it for a mother and her child following us out. “
I thought you were a native New Yorker.”
I was starting to be able to discern her teasing from her criticism. I gestured to her borrowed shirt and pajama bottoms. “Well, I thought you were a designer.”
She rewarded me with a fist to the shoulder. “You’re preppy enough for both of us, Suit.”
The nickname used to irritate me, but I was getting used to it. The way she said it wasn’t just mocking. It could be chastising, friendly, flirty.
I mentally shook my head to clear it. “So what’s next?”
Despite the weird start to our evening and the serious conversation in the middle, I was having fun. More fun than I’d had in a long time.
“Well …” She hesitated, which only made me more curious. “There’s this theater I’ve been dying to go to. They play old movies.”
“I never got why you’d pay ten bucks to watch something made thirty years before you were born. Something without CGI or car chases.”
“Well, we didn’t have any theaters like that close to home,” she said defensively. “And those films aren’t just old, they’re classic.”
“Bullshit,” I stated.
Instead of shutting her down, my argumentative tone made her come alive. “What about vintage Chanel couture?” she pressed. “Or a 1965 Mustang. My brother’s car.”
“All right.” I shrugged a shoulder. “Your brother has impeccable taste.”
She grinned like she’d won. “You’d like him. You remind me of him sometimes, you know.”
Being a lawyer, I couldn’t help noticing details. Particularly when others didn’t want me to. I turned my head to look at her. “You think about me.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she backpedaled.
“But you do.”
Ava’s attention was pulled by something ahead of us and her eyes lit up. “Look! It’s a sign.”
“Yeah,” I said, wondering whether to let her off the hook so easily. “The sign says Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”
“Have you seen that movie?” she asked, steering us toward the line for tickets in front of the theater.
“Let me think. Any racing scenes? Explosions? Fights?”
She shook her head at each question, a small smile on her face. “You’ll love it. I guarantee it,” she insisted stubbornly.
“Well if it’s a guarantee, what do I get? If I hate it, I mean.”
“What do you want?” Ava tilted her face toward me. If she were anyone else, I’d have thought she was being provocative. But she looked completely guileless.
I dismissed a few possibilities out of hand. No. No. Definitely … Christ.
“OK, how’s this. In the future, you’ll smile and say, ‘Hi Nate,’ when you see me. Instead of growling like you want to rip my head off.”
She looked surprised. “You want me to say hi to you?”
“Yes.”
“This feels like high school.”
My mouth twitched. “Life’s a lot like high school sometimes.”
“I guess I could do that.” Ava bought the tickets before I had a chance to reach for my wallet. Then, like it was an afterthought, she wrapped her hand around mine and tugged me inside.
She insisted on sitting at the back. For a second, I had the crazy thought that maybe she wanted to make out. But instead she just wanted to look at all the other patrons, guessing at their stories.
There were twenty people in the theater. A teenager with what looked like her grandmother. A group of college girls. Two guys who might’ve been bikers.
“I bet at least one of them has an Audrey Hepburn tattoo,” she whispered to me.
I played along, nodding my chin toward one of the guys. “I think it’s him.” Bracing my hands on the arm rests, I pushed out of my seat. “Want me to go ask him?”
“Nate!” she shrieked, grabbing my arm. I let her pull me back down, then watched her shoulders shake as she laughed. “Damn, Suit, I can’t take you anywhere.”
When the movie started, Ava watched with big eyes, mouthing the words to her favorite scenes. She was completely charmed.
The girls started throwing popcorn in the front row thirty minutes in. Ava glanced over and caught me watching her. “No popcorn here. You’re safe,” she whispered, her face close enough that I could smell her. Ava smelled like my body wash.
Something was growing inside me. And it wasn’t fear of being collateral damage in a popcorn war.
After the credits rolled, she sighed with satisfaction and dropped her head on my shoulder. Her hair felt like satin against my neck. “You know, when I was nine I found this cat in the street after school. I brought it home and named it Cat, just like in the movie. By the time my mom got home from work it had a collar made out of construction paper. I’d taken one of her gold rings, covered it with tape, and wrote Cat on it as a nametag.”
“And that was the end of Tommy McMillan,” I deadpanned.
She laughed as we stood and made our way out of the auditorium, dodging what was left of the popcorn war. “Something like that. What about you? Any pets growing up?”
“Never.”
“Not even dogs? Families like yours always have dogs.”
I shot her a look. “What do you think we are, nineteenth-century British landowners?”
We stepped out of the theater and into the rain that had started. I raised the umbrella. She moved closer to me and I could smell my scent on her again.
“How did you like Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
I pushed down the wave of lust her smell had aroused to answer. “Decent for its time. You and Holly have a lot in common.”
She cocked her head. “Because I’m glamorous and petite?”
“Because you do things your way. Even if your way is absolutely insane.” Some of the admiration leaked out in my voice.
Ava looked surprised. “And that’s a good thing.”
I watched her out of the corner of my eye. Her reaction made me want to keep talking. “Yes. I mean, you say what you want. You don’t back down from a fight. And you’re not afraid to show people who you are, even if they can hurt you. It’s kind of incredible.”
We dodged some pedestrians going the other way, me holding the umbrella for her as she squeezed in front of me.
“Incredible for some non–Ivy League grad from SoCal from the wrong family.”
I pulled up. “No. Who the hell gave you that idea?”
Ava turned to face me, an arm’s length away. Lifted a shoulder self-consciously under the old T-shirt.
“Was it Josh?” My jaw tightened. She started to turn and I put my hand on her arm. “Hey, don’t walk away.”
“No! It wasn’t Josh,” Ava said without meeting my eyes.
I reached out and tilted her chin up, forcing her gaze to mine as protectiveness sprang up. Dammit, anyone who made this girl feel less than incredible would have to deal with me. “Listen to me, Ava Cameron. Any guy would be lucky to have a shot with you.” I meant it, but her gaze was searching, as if she didn’t believe me.
I hoped the sincerity showed in my face, because Ava wasn’t some jury I could win over. Some opposing council I could bully into seeing things my way. The words that would convince her didn’t yet exist.
So instead I stood, and watched, and waited.
“You’re not so bad yourself, Suit,” she murmured finally.
Ava was getting wet, drops glinting on her hair in the streetlight. I stepped closer so we were covered. Then breathed in her and the rain. Reveled in those green eyes, the pale, full mouth free of makeup.
Standing in front of me in those damned pajamas, she was so perfect it hurt. I felt the tug toward her, and her eyes widened like she felt it too. I grazed a thumb down her jawbone and her lips parted. Fuck. I wanted to taste her. To see if she was everything I remembered. Everything I’d dreamed about.
An endless minute. Just us and the rain and all the possibility in the world.
Then I remembered where we were. Who we were. So did she, stepp
ing out of my grasp and starting up the street. I had no choice but to follow or let her get soaked all over again.
“You have a generous definition of ‘not so bad,’” I told her, resuming our conversation. “I seem to recall losing it soon after meeting you last year.”
A mischievous glint lit her eye as she turned her face up to mine, the tension gone, the playfulness back. “We all have a little crazy in us.”
She grinned before running out from under the umbrella, shouting “Cat! Cat!” in her best Audrey Hepburn voice. The streets were nearly empty. No one looked over at the girl in pajamas running and shouting in the rain.
Her silly act made me chuckle, then laugh. But what warmed me more than anything was that she did it for my benefit. Ava made me feel like it was OK to be less than whole. And at the same time, I felt more complete than I’d been in a long time.
I jogged to catch up with her and held the umbrella over her head. “All right, Holly. Let’s get you out of the rain.”
We walked the last block home easily side by side. “Nothing from Lindy,” she said under her breath, checking her phone after I let us into the building. “Guess it’s back to your place.”
“Sure.” I tried not to sound as relieved as I felt. I wasn’t ready for this to end.
We stepped into the elevator and she hit the button for our floor. I caught her gaze in the mirrored wall. “If it gets out that I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s in track pants tonight, my reputation is ruined,” I said solemnly.
“Blackmail material for life,” she agreed. Then she leaned against the mirror facing me and crossed her arms in front of her. “Nate, I need to ask you something.”
I was on guard. Normally Ava would’ve asked it point blank, even if it was a word bomb. “OK.”
“And I need you to be honest. Even if the truth is ugly.”
“OK …”
She took a breath. “Last year. The morning after we slept together. You left without even saying goodbye. Why?”
I froze. The vulnerability in her expression tore at me. “Ava, I had to go. I got a call early in the morning. It was an emergency. I said that in my note.”
Her eyes clouded. “What note?”
Stripped (Travesty Book 2) Page 9
