“It was okay,” I said, sliding onto a barstool. She was elbows-deep in a cheesecake mixture. I stole a fingerful. “We sent the audit documents to Davidson early—wanted it off our plate. Margaret wanted nothing to do with it, and Harrison is in the dark still.”
“Well that’s… something.” She hummed as she prepped a pan. “Damien’s running a bit behind.”
“Yeah, he texted me.”
Ava glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile. “I must say, I’m glad he found you.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re different than the others. I see the way he looks—”
“Did he… have many girlfriends before me?” The words escaped before I could catch them. Reckless curiosity pushed against walls I’d been desperately trying to keep intact—demanding an answer before I leapt.
The question spoken before I could swallow it. Stupid. Of course he’d had women. He was rich, handsome, kind. Women probably threw themselves at him.
Ava froze. The spatula clattered into the pan. “Ugh…” she managed, clearly searching for footing.
My brows pulled tight. “Ava?”
“Yes—sorry,” she said quickly, scraping batter into a ring mold. “He’s had partners before, but…” Her voice faltered. “I wouldn’t necessarily call them girlfriends. Not like you.”
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “Please don’t tell me Damien was a fuckboy.”
Her head whipped around. “No! Nothing like that,” she said—too fast.
My pulse quickened—cold and quick. “So… one-night stands?”
“No,” she murmured. “Not quite.”
“Situationships?” The bitterness surprised even me.
She hesitated. “No.Not that either.”
Frustration flared. “Then what were they?”
Ava winced. “It isn’t really my place to explain.”
I leaned back like she’d shoved me.
Not girlfriends.
Not hookups.
Not flings.
Not situationships.
Then what the hell were they?
And why couldn’t she say?
The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating.
He hid his identity for weeks.
The thought landed like a stone dropped into still water.
He let me fall for a man who didn’t exist. And I forgave him. I chose to trust him again.
