Page 173 of Going Viral for Christmas
“Ava—” I start.
“Don’t,” she snaps, spinning on me. “Donottry to kiss me or calm me or explainthataway.”
My stomach sinks. She’s not pissed—she’shurt.
“Nothing she said was true,” I quickly say. “I haven’t touched her?—”
“Don’t youdarelie to me.” Her voice breaks a hair. “Don’t insult me.”
Fisher winces from the doorway. Camille swaps a glare with Renata. They both might want to fry me where I stand. I can tell Renata’s halfway between sympathy and strategy mode.
I can’t deal with any of them. Not when the only person I care about hearing the truth doesn’t even want to be in the same room as me.
“I think it’s best if all of you leave,” I tell the three of them. They all nod and, without a word, exit the suite.
As soon as the door clicks shut, Ava starts in, “Soren, I’ve beentryingto believe this is more than PR and timing and viral clips. I’ve been giving you the benefit of the doubt, even when I knew your reputation. Because I wanted it. I wantedyou.”
My chest twists. “Ava?—”
“Then that woman walks up to me as though I’m just a pit stop. Or another hashtag in your trail of conquests. And you didn’t even deny it. You just stood there.”
“I was caught off guard.”
Ava laughs—bitter and hollow. “Yeah. So was I.”
“I didn’t sleep with her atthisBooksgiving.” It sounds like a loophole. A technicality. A soft lie blanketed in omission. And now she thinks I’m another man who sweet-talks his way into her life and leaves her feeling small. Stupid. Used.
“But youhave.”
Silence.
If I confirm that the woman aiming poison arrows at her once had her hands on my dick and my mouth between her thighs, I know exactly how it’ll land.
Betrayal.
A confirmation of every fear Ava’s ever had about me.
Proof I’m still the man she’s scared I might be.
But I’m not anymore. Not with her. Ava Bell isn’t the exception—she’s thegoddamn rewrite. And she doesn’t need Lena’s name in the footnotes.
My answer is quiet. “Yes.”
I pray her mind isn’t feeding her images of what myonenight with Lena might’ve looked like.
“It meant nothing. I buried it. Shoved it down into the graveyard of old selves I never plan on resurrecting.”
Ava shakes her head, eyes glassy but burning. She turns toward the bedroom, jaw set. I don’t know what to say to make her stay, because right now, she’s finished with me.
But I’mnowherenear finished with this conversation. Ava needs space, though. So, I stand in the middle of our hotel room, watching the woman I care about–the one I’ve been trying so hard to give me a chance–disappear behind a closing bedroom door, and I feel nothing but helpless.
This ispreciselythe kind of shit Ava’s been guarding her heart against. And she’s been waiting on it like clockwork, knowing it would end soon enough.
The reason she doesn’t let people in. The reason she doesn’t believe in soft landings or safe hands or someone staying long enough to mean it.
And Ihandedit to her. On a silver platter. With Lena’s perfectly glossed venom on top.
I’m going to be sick.
