“Desmond, remember when you said back in the car that you didn’t think I was bitter? Well, I am, Desmond.”
I’d been trying to keep Desmond out of this. Holding him at arm’s length wasn’t working anymore. He just worked his way through my defenses, showing me again and again that he cared about me. I didn’t want him to care for me. But he was here. He wanted to be here, and that look of worry on his face was real. The protective arms around me were real. I couldn’t block him out any longer.
I lifted my head off his chest, touching my hand to hischeek. “You know why? After she died, I was going through her things, and I found bills from the doctor about multiple visits to a cardiologist. I found out that she’d had a heart problem all along that she never confided in me about. Me, her only child. Her only family. I’d never even known she had a heart issue, let alone that she’d been taking treatment for it. I could’ve helped her, Desmond. I could’ve moved in with her and kept an eye on her. But she’d treated me like she treated her friends—loved me, but always kept me at a distance, never wanting to worry me.”
When I chanced a look at him, he looked fierce, and it only encouraged me to go on. I wanted someone to get angry on my behalf. I wanted someone to tell me that I was justified in being bitter and that being bitter was the only way to be when your mom died without being honest with you.
“After I found out, I’ve never visited Mom’s grave, Desmond. I’m holding her death against her. I’m angry with her, even after she died. What kind of a person does that make me?”
The tears threatened to fall, but I forced myself to finish what I had to say. I couldn’t live through this a second time.
“She’s buried in St. Raymond’s Cemetery in the Throggs Neck neighborhood of the Bronx, and I haven’t taken flowers to her grave, Des. It’s almost been eleven months since her death, and I still haven’t forgiven her for leaving me like this. I’m not a good person if I can be angry with her now. When she can’t defend herself. You left me abruptly, and now, she left too. I don’t know how to deal with losing the people who matter the most. I’m mad and bitter. That’s me. That’s the Ava Hale you see today.”
My throat ran dry at the reminder of those days. Of thehurt and pain that had come with not being able to be by Mom’s side when she was suffering.
Desmond drew me closer, looking angrier than ever. “Well, I’ll be damned if I stand by when someone else hurts you again,” he said. “Kyle isn’t getting anywhere close to you, Ava. I’ll make sure of that.”
The door to the men’s restroom across from ours fell shut, and I jumped.
“You should go,” I said, wiping my cheeks dry and gesturing to the door. “Before someone walks in.”
He didn’t move. He stared at me, his jaw working. “Come with me,” he said finally.
“I’m not walking out of this restroom with you.” I shook my head.
“Let’s go out for dinner and talk this out,” he said. “Just the two of us. I know of places where we can speak in private. Without a chance of running into anyone who might know us.”
I glanced up at him and shook my head. “I can’t be seen?—”
“With me,” he said, his voice rough. He stepped back, staring at me like he was at a loss. “I want to understand, but with you”—he sounded hopeless—“I just fail every time, Ava.”
“Desmond, if word got out that we’d been seeing each other far more often than was appropriate, I’d?—”
I’d be the one who lost my job. I’d lose any chance of getting my mom’s restaurant back. I’d be the laughingstock of all the employees at Luxe Hotels when I was eventually let go without references.
But none of that really mattered.
“Desmond, being around you brings back too many feelings,” I whispered.
He gave me a burning gaze before he stepped up to me. I backed up to the wall just as Desmond’s hands went on either side of the wall behind me.
“Ava,” he muttered, bending in closer, “promise me something.”
“What?” I asked a little defiantly.
He was closer than he’d ever been, his lips mere inches from my face.
“Promise me you’ll not freak out and overanalyze this situation.”
All the sounds around me dulled, and I could only feel his touch and hear his breathing. I was only a woman, standing in front of a man, who was smiling at her like he really liked her.
I recognized his look. It was one I’d seen often in the past.
He’s going to kiss me.
“I can’t make promises I can’t keep,” I whispered as his head came down close to mine.
He was leaning in, and before my brain could come up with excuses, before my logical part could take over, I was leaning in myself.
