“Are we?” I can’t help the smile that comes from her words.Weare having company.
Ava nods and looks over her shoulder at Nina, who immediately puts up her hands and turns back for the barn. Now these two are up to something. Just once would I like to be in on whatever the hell everyone is plotting.
When she turns back to me, the smile is gone and her eyes are somehow heavier—like her brain is wrapped in a weighted vest.
I take a step closer to her.
“What’s going on? Did you talk to your dad?” I ask, brushing a hand over her bare upper arm.
She shakes her head.
“I think it’s better to have that conversation in person,” she says.
“Is it Tammy? Is she angry with you about Ethan?”
She snorts. “Hell no. She’s angry with Ethan about me—” She pauses, shuts her eyes, and lets out a long breath.
And I suddenly want to run. Whatever she’s about to say is going to hurt like hell.
“It’s work,” she says.
I focus on getting oxygen to my lungs and to my brain.
“They want me to start Thursday.”
“Next Thursday?” I ask.
“This Thursday,” she says.
I don’t even need to ask what she wants. I can tell from the way she’s standing that she’s already made her choice. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her with that armor on, but the set of her jaw and her shoulders reminds me of the battles I fought to get through the layers and layers of bullshit she wrapped herself in.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she whispers softly, maybe hoping that I won’t hear it.
And there it is. I wonder if she can see the crack that just opened in my chest—put her hands on either side and peer inside of it.
“Tomorrow,” I repeat.
She steps forward, wraps her arms around my waist, and rests her head on my chest. There’s a voice in my head screaming at me to tell her no. Tell her she can’t leave. Tie her up and keep her here—because surely this is where she belongs.
“I smell like a goat,” she says into my chest.
“A sheep. But yes, you do,” I confirm, kissing the top of her head.
“I’m sorry, James.” I can feel wetness through my shirt and I know she’s crying.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Ava. This—whatever it is—has been the most amazing few weeks of my life, and I don’t have a single regret.”
It’s not a lie. This might hurt like hell—this feeling of being left—of being less than what’s needed to make her stay. It’s a feelingI’ve known my entire life thanks to my parents. But it doesn’t change what this was—is—to me.
Her shoulders shake, and I squeeze her tighter. I hold her until her tears give way to something else between us. Then I guide her toward the guest house and show her just how much I’ll miss her in the shower that I unknowingly built for the woman leaving tomorrow with most of my heart.
CINQUANTASEI
Ava
There are too many things here that I’m going to miss: the views, the food, the slow leisurely pace of life, James. But this—this—sitting around a table, dining al fresco with a group of family and friends while music plays softly to the tune of wine glasses clinking and people chatting and laughing—I will ache for this every night of my life.
James has barely stopped touching me since I told him about tomorrow. Maybe he thinks his touch will anchor me to him. Stop me from leaving him like his parents chose to do or like his grandmother did without a choice. The thought of his pain sends spiderwebbing cracks through me, and I’m worried the soft breeze will blow me away over the hills.
