8
There were definitelybenefits to living in a small town. One being, if you realized that you forgot your bag at the coffee shop you could go back and grab it and you’d only lose about ten minutes. In a big city that mistake could cost you hours in traffic.
Ava had gone to Read Between the Lines and only after she went to the counter to pay for Emma’s newest release His Wildest Desire, did she realize that she’d left her bag under the counter at the coffee shop in her hasty escape to try and run from the conversation that she and Viv were having about her dry spell.
The store owner insisted that she take the book and just pay for it the next time she came in. She wasn’t sure if his hospitality had been just another example of how the small town kept embracing her in a warm hug, both figuratively and literally, because they viewed her as a jilted bride, or if it was simply the run of the mill generosity that had nothing to do with her near-death experience. Which is what she was now calling her wedding.
Twice in her life she’d dodged a bullet. Once literally(ish) and once figuratively. She hadn’t actually dodged the literal(ish) time. She’d been shot and only survived because someone had taken the bullet for her. But she had dodged dying, so she counted it.
And the figurative time she felt like she would’ve died if she’d actually made it down the aisle. Or at least her soul would have. Being married to Ian would’ve been if not a death sentence, at the very least a life sentence of lovelessness.
Ava clutched her book as she headed back to Brewed Awakenings and she noted that the haziness which had been her constant companion the past few days showed up again. She was having a hard time reconciling the very real possibility that someone had deliberately drugged her. Well, technically, he’d been trying to drug Viv since her sister was the one carrying the drink, but still. If it turned out that was the case, she was glad it had been her and not the intended victim, her sister, that had drunk the spiked drink. She’d gladly go through a week of fog to save her sister from experiencing the same side effects she’d been suffering.
A sick feeling settled in her stomach at what would have happened to her or the other woman who had been targeted if polo shirt hadn’t been caught.
Ava’s phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans and she tucked the book under her arm and grabbed it. On the screen she saw that it was a text from the ball-less wonder. Viv must have changed Ian’s contact name in Ava’s phone. Her younger sister had been pulling that trick for as long as Ava could remember.
The message read: I know that you probably hate me, but I need to talk to you. Please call me.
Ava sighed. She knew that she’d have to talk to her ex at some point, if for nothing else, to have closure. She’d hired a company to go pack her things and have them shipped to her. As she was listing the items for them to retrieve, she realized that even after being together for twenty years, living with each other for the past ten, moving to ten different apartments in four different states, she and Ian didn’t really have anything that was joint property.
She had her clothes, books, and a lamp that was her mom’s. He had all of his stuff. They’d bought furniture “together” but in actuality she’d paid for half of whatever he picked out and had never liked it that much. The life they shared together had just been his life. And she was happy to have her own life now.
Still, even though she’d taken care of all of her belongings, they probably should speak and say a proper goodbye. That was what she’d tell a patient. She’d tell them to wait until they were ready, but then a conversation should be had.
But just like the conversation with Viv, it didn’t need to be today.
She shoved her phone back into her pocket as she turned the corner and walked face first into someone. Her reflexes caused her eyes to shut and her hands to fly up to either brace herself or try and protect herself. It all happened so fast she wasn’t sure which it was, but either way, the book that was tucked beneath her arm slipped and fell to the ground with a thunk.
She opened her eyes and saw that she’d face planted into a man’s chest and her hands were hanging onto him like a cat on a screen. “I’m so sorr—” Ava’s apology trailed off when she lifted her chin and gaze.
What she saw caused her heart to slam into her chest like a crash test dummy into a concrete wall. Everything around her disappeared when she looked up and saw tall, dark, and dangerous. Well, she actually saw the reflection of herself in tall, dark, and dangerous’s aviator glasses.
No. This couldn’t actually be happening.
She had to be imagining it, right?
Or she was mistaken, and this man was just what her brain remembered the man who’d risked his life for her looked like.
It wasn’t actually him. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
She was 99.9% sure it was him but since his eyes were covered, there was a .01% of doubt.
That doubt evaporated like dry ice in a sauna when the corners of tall, dark and dangerous’s mouth lifted in a grin showcasing a deep dimple on his left cheek and she knew. It was him. She would never forget his smile. Or more specifically, the way his smile made her feel.
Just like in the bodega, all those years ago, the sight caused butterflies to flutter low in her belly. Her palms grew damp and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She tried to take in a calming breath but her inhale was shakier than Shakira’s hips. Her cheeks heated and her heart raced like it was on the track at the Grand Prix.
Wait. How could that be?
Was this a side effect of the roofie?
Was she actually losing it?
Maybe the breakup with Ian had affected her more than she’d thought and she was having a nervous breakdown.
Was he real?
