Page 187 of This Woman Forever

My eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling of Dior. “Weird. I was literally just thinking about him,” I say, watching Ava being directed down a rail of leisure wear.

“I’m assuming they’ve done some homework and they’ll come back with a serious offer.”

My stomach flips, and I start to fidget in the chair. It doesn’t hurt to talk. And we talked. Priceless. What’s the point in meeting again?

“Do you want me to set something up?”

“No,” I blurt without much thought, leaving John silent. “I mean, I need to think.” For the first time, the whole situation feels real. Serious. I look at Ava’s stomach as she’s directed toward the display of handbags. Babies. Life as we know will change forever. But life as I knew it already changed forever the moment Ava walked into my office.

“Okay,” John eventually says. “Should I leave it with you?”

Ava looks over to me, her head tilting in question. I must look as uneasy as I feel. I pull myself together and sit up straighter, looking at the handbag the assistant has just collected off the display and is showing Ava. I give the bag a thumbs up. Ava looks at it and dismisses it. “Yeah, leave it with me. How’s Sarah getting on?”

“Like a duck to water, springs to mind. In the office and in the rooms.”

I laugh sardonically. I bet. Fuck, I am not looking forward to breaking that news to Ava. Wouldn’t have to if I sell The Manor.

“Have you heard from Steve Cook?” he asks.

“No.” He’s got until tomorrow to bring me something. “Listen, John, we’re back tomorrow and there’s still been no news on Van der Haus or my stolen car. Ava’s going to want to go back to work.” I’m a realist. “Can?—”

“I’ll drive her,” he says, and I deflate, relieved. He hears me. “And the new security system is up and running.”

“Good,” I say quietly. “Thanks.”

“Safe journey home.”

I get up and wander over to Ava, ignoring the toothy, red-lipped beam of the assistant as I approach. “I like it,” I say, as Ava holds up a cream sweater. “We’ll take it.”

“Of course.” The assistant takes it from Ava’s hand, her attention now on me. Still smiling.

Ava gives her a sideway glare. “There’s no point, I won’t fit into it soon.”

“Then we’ll take the next size up too,” I say, prompting the assistant to flick through the hangers and pull out the sweater in the next size up.

“We also have this design in black,” she says.

“We’ll take black too.”

“Jesse,” Ava moans.

“What?” I laugh. “You said you’d let me spoil you.”

Her forehead becomes a mass of lines. “I never said that.”

“It was to that effect.” I look through the hangers. “They have the trousers to match,” I say, holding up some lovely wide-legged pants. “And they have a stretchy waist.” I grin over the top of the hanger, and Ava’s hand instinctively goes to her stomach. It’s beautiful.

“The matching pants too, sir?” The assistant takes the hanger, her hand laying over mine, her smile getting wider by the second.

I snatch it away. “Yeah.” She’s walking a thin line. My wife’s possessiveness is wild lately.

“I’ll get it all wrapped.” She pouts, backing away, her eyes taking a not-so subtle jaunt down my frame before she pivots and saunters off. Ava’s eyes are narrowed slits on the assistant’s back as she distractedly looks through another rail.

“We’ll take that too,” I say, reaching for the linen shirt Ava’s paused on. “Come, sit,” I say, walking her to the chair, rather than to the counter where she’s closer to the assistant. “Your ankles are getting puffy.”

“Fuck off,” she snaps, and I laugh, crowding her in the chair, my arms braced on each arm, my face close.

“You need to stop swearing in front of the children.”

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