Regan pushed off the wall. “You look nice.”
Ava glanced down at her own work clothes, the flour that dusted her pants, felt the wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail and snorted. “Oh, I’m sure. I’m sweaty and dirty and exhausted.”
“I mean it,” Regan said. “A sight for sore eyes, isn’t that what they say?”
Ava tipped her head. “And are your eyes sore?”
“From not seeing you. Yeah. They are.” There was a beat, two, and then they both burst into laughter. “Oh God, that was so cheesy.”
“The cheesiest line anybody’s ever used on me, hands down.”
They continued to laugh for a moment, and when it died down, Regan met her gaze. God, those blue eyes of hers. Ava had forgotten how much she loved them.
“I owe you an apology,” Regan said softly. “A big one.”
Ava pressed her lips together to hide her surprise, not sure if she was successful. She let Regan talk.
“I amsosorry.” Regan glanced down at her feet, then off into the distance. “I should have believed you. Or at least given you the benefit of the doubt. I let the past color the present for me, even after you swore you knew what had happened. I should have listened to you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t.” She searched for Ava’s eyes, then held her gaze and swallowed hard enough for Ava to hear it.
Ava glanced off to her left. “It’s a bummer that it took Liza telling you what I already had to get you to believe me.” That hurt. She couldn’t pretend it didn’t.
“I know.” Regan nodded and, if Ava was being honest, looked miserable. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”
“After everything we’d gone through…” Ava looked off down the alley and shook her head. “I mean, I know my track record isn’t spotless, but,” she refocused her gaze on Regan, “after all we’d gone through.”
“I know,” Regan said, nodding. She glanced down at her shoes and said it again. “I know.” Another beat went by, both of them silent, Ava absorbing and Regan likely waiting her out before giving in and asking, “What can I do? Is there anything I can do to fix it? Just tell me. I’ll do it.” She cleared her throat, and Ava wondered if she was on the verge of tears. “Anything. I’ll do it. I miss you so much.”
There were so many things Ava wanted to say in that moment.She wanted to shout. She wanted to show Regan her anger and her hurt and her disappointment. She wanted to shove her in the shoulder and ask her what the fuck she’d been thinking, how she could think—after all the time and all the kissing and all the sex—that she’d actually steal her idea, that she’d do something like that to her. She wanted to scream and cry and rage.
“Take me to dinner.” That’s what she said instead, and she blinked once, twice, actually surprised by her own words.
Regan flinched in surprise as well, her eyes going wide. “Really? Dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Regan nodded. A lot. “Okay. I can do that. I’d love to do that. I’d be happy to do that. Dinner. Yes.”
“Good.” Ava blew out an unexpected breath of relief. “Good. Now walk me to the subway, and then text me tomorrow with a day and time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Regan was trying hard to hide her smile. Ava could tell. But she did a commendable job as they fell into step together. And as thrilled Ava was that Regan had taken steps and shown up unannounced, she wasn’t about to let her off the hook that easily.
They walked in silence.
It was called “the city that never sleeps” for a reason, and there were still quite a lot of people out on the streets. Driving, walking, shouting, honking horns. Definitely fewer than during the day, but it wasn’t like they were walking along in their own little quiet world. Even if it felt like it.
Their hands brushed once as they walked, and it took a lot of effort for Ava to resist grabbing Regan’s, feeling the warmth of it, entwining their fingers. Her brain chose that moment to toss her an image, a memory of those same fingers inside her, sliding slowly in and out, then picking up speed.
She cleared her throat.
“It’s good to see your face again,” Regan said quietly. She still sported the ghost of a smile as she glanced up at Ava. They’d reached the stairs down into the subway.
Ava smiled back at her, then turned to head down the stairs. “Text me.” She tossed the words over her shoulder, not looking back.
“I will.” Regan’s voice was enthusiastic. Happy. And when Ava, against her better judgment, did turn and glance back up from the bottom of the steps, Regan was smiling like she’d just won the lottery.
* * *
“Honey, what are you doing?” Ava’s mom’s voice was gentle, almost tender, and a hint of worry tinted the edges of it.
