Page 28 of This Love
“Can she get out through the bedroom window?”
I understood his concern. Ava ran before. “I don’t think that will happen.”
“I think we should edit the book,” he said. “And see about removing that tattoo. It’s doing more harm than good.”
“One thing at a time,” I told him. Standing up to Marcus was difficult. He had money, age, and a powerful position.
And I still wasn’t Ava’s husband.
“I won’t have a repeat of 2018,” he said.
“Then do a stakeout,” I told him. “I’m going to let her sleep.” I held out my hand for the book.
He stared at it for a moment, then reluctantly passed it to me.
“While she’s sleeping, I’ll put sticky notes throughout it. I’ll explain things. Mitigate any damage. She’s already asked for Harry, though.”
Marcus sat on one of the kitchen chairs again, seeming defeated. “She always chooses him.”
“He’s good for her.”
Marcus fiddled with the corner of one of the boxes piled on the table. “He is. I guess I just wish she preferred me.”
I knew exactly how he felt, but I wouldn’t say it.
I tucked the book under my arm. “I’m going to get on this so it’s ready when she wakes.”
Then I left him behind in the kitchen, the scene of the crime where the meds had been missed, the schedule had changed, and my life—all our lives—had been completely upended.
Chapter 10
Ava
When I woke up, everything was dark.
I sat up, alarm bells clanging inside my head.
At least I was alone. I understood that Tucker lived here, too, but he hadn’t tried to crawl into bed beside me. I’d seen all the rooms in this house. There was only one bed anywhere.
The clock read 9:46. I couldn’t remember when I had lain down.
I needed more of the medicine they had given me in the hospital. Every movement made my head ache so hard that I felt dizzy.
A line of light seeped in from under the door, so I walked carefully toward it, my arms outstretched in case I bumped into something.
I felt around for the knob and opened it.
It creaked more loudly than I liked, and I held my breath, listening. Could I really be alone now? Maybe Tucker and my father had gone to the wedding after all, like they’d asked the others to do at the hospital.
I took a few steps down the hall. When I neared the bathroom, a powerful pinching sensation came over me low, below my belly. What was that?
I pressed my hands against my stomach. Was I sick?
Tucker appeared from the direction of the living room. He still wore the suit pants and shirt but had taken off the shiny shoes. “I thought I heard you. You okay?”
Not alone after all. It might be for the best because I understood nothing. “My head hurts,” I told him. “And something in my stomach. It makes me feel anxious, like I should jump up and down.”
He glanced at the bathroom. “You might need to go to the bathroom.” He gestured to the door. “Do you know what to do in there?”
