Page 98 of This Woman Forever

“I said the owner was unobtainable at that moment in time, because he was.”

“Where was he?”

“Barricaded in his office drinking and fucking his way out of a happy ever after.”

I inhale, the sting real. “You didn’t tell me?” That was weeks ago.

“Because you’ve been trying to get back on track since, and I didn’t want to hurt that little brain of yours more.”

I huff. Cheeky fucker. My brain is fine. Not pickled. It’s my reproductive system that’s the problem. “What do you think?”

“I think you should talk to them.”

I cough over my surprise. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He smiles and it’s not a smile you see on John much. Mild. Knowing. “You’ve outgrown The Manor, Jesse. It no longer serves a purpose for you.”

“But Carmichael.” I round the bar and lower to a stool, my legs struggling to hold me up.

“What about him?”

“Well, it was his life.”

“And he’s dead, Jesse.” He shrugs his colossal shoulders. “You’re not dead.”

“But what would you do if there was no manor?”

“Me?” He smiles, and it’s precious. “I’d have a fucking life beyond worrying about you, motherfucker.”

I laugh, but my throat closes up too. Shit. Are we actually having this conversation? “So we talk to them?”

“Sure,” he says, easy as that. “Hear what they have to say. It can’t hurt.”

“Can’t it?” I ask, feeling a stab of pain in my gut. Oddly, The Manor ruined my life. It also saved it, and the deep attachment, no matter how much I have resented it lately, will be hard to let go of.

John stands, and my eyes lift to accommodate him. “I’m not going to mention Jake or Rosie again,” he says quietly. “You know my position. You know I think you should share that part of your life with your wife.” A tilt of his head, and I look away. “It’s your call, but I think you’re making a mistake.” His hand lands on my shoulder and rubs. “Let me know what you decide to do about Owen Cutler.” He nods at the card on the bar before he leaves, and I pick it up and stare at it as I sit in silence alone.

No Manor.

The glass turns slowly in my grasp on the bar, the water crystal clear as I keep my focus on it, watching the small ripples. Could I really let it go? Give it up?

Jesus, no, what am I thinking? I laugh out loud, shaking my head and that crazy thought away. My mobile brings me back down to earth, and I smile when I see who’s calling me, even if I’m more than surprised. “Ava?”

“The gates won’t open,” she cries, and my heart instantly drops into my stomach at the sound of her distress. What gates? Where the hell is she?

“Hey, calm down,” I order, getting up from the stool, my feet moving without me telling them to, instinct taking me out of the bar. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the gates,” she yells, hysterical. “I’ve been pressing the button, but no one’s opening them.”

She’s here?

I’m out on the steps of The Manor looking down the driveway before I know it, even though the gates aren’t visible from here. “Ava, stop it.” I feel in my pocket for my keys. “You’re worrying me.” My mind starts to race with reasons for her distress. Has Van Der Haus shown up? Coral, Freja, Sarah? My heart misses a beat. The woman I saw this morning? I take the steps down to the gravel in a few panicked leaps. Was it really her? Fucking hell.

“I need you,” she whispers on a ragged breath, forcing me to a stunned stop. “Jesse,” she sobs. “I need you.”

Panic chokes me, my legs breaking out into a sprint to my car as I fumble with the fob. “Pull down the sun visor, baby,” I say, breathless with worry. “There’re two buttons.” I get the door open and fall behind the wheel. “One for the gates to Lusso, the other for The Manor gates.” Slamming the Aston into gear, I pull off, tossing my phone on the passenger seat when it connects to Bluetooth. “Ava?” I say when I get no reply. “Ava, talk to me?” I can hear noises, banging and... sobbing. Jesus Christ. “Ava?” The steering wheel in one hand, my other raking through my hair, I race toward the gates. “Ava, please, talk to me.” A stressed sweat dampens my forehead, her cries so loud I can hear them over the roar of my engine. “I’m coming, baby.” I see her Range Rover in the distance, coming at me at speed. The brakes screech, she skids to a stop, and I watch in horror as she dives out of the car and runs toward my Aston. What the fucking hell has happened?

I slam my foot on the brakes and get out, using the top of the door as leverage to push off, sprinting to her, adrenaline feeding my urgency. Her body collides with mine, my arms pulling her in, holding her, hugging her hard. “Jesus, Ava.”

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