Page 82 of A Little Too Late
“Well…” This is awkward. “I’m not ready to give up. The happiest I haveeverbeen was last night when we were talking about the expansion.”
“The happiest, huh?” His voice is husky. “And here I thought the sex was good.”
The joke is meant to lighten the mood, but it’s a lost cause. “I want what we planned last night.”
“Like I don’t?” He swallows hard. “I’m not walking out on you again, Ava. He pushed me out.”
“That was one conversation,” I argue. “It’s not over.”
“Please.” He huffs out a bitter laugh. “It only took one conversation for him to tell me that my opinion doesn’t matter. But that’s not good enough for you, huh? I’m supposed to stayand beg him to listen to me? Chain myself to the ski lift and demand satisfaction?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Hell.” He looks up at the hotel. Really looks at it—like he’s memorizing the stone chimneys and the red shutters. “He told me to get out of his office. He told me to take my big ideas and go home. So that’s what I have to do.”
My heart clenches. “If you’re sure,” I say quietly.
“I’m sure.” He squeezes my hand. “We could still be okay.”
But I am not okay. Not at all.
CHAPTER 29
REPEATING MY SINS
REED
My first-class seat on the flight back to California is very comfortable, and since I had to leave the hotel at five in the morning to get it, I ought to be sleeping right now.
I can’t, though. All I can think about is the heated look in Ava’s eyes as I laid her down in her bed last night. The way we exhausted ourselves before we slept.
And the way she refused to wake up to say goodbye this morning. She just rolled over and sighed when I kissed her goodbye.
I left a note on the counter for her, but it didn’t help much. It felt terrible to leave her—like I was repeating my sins. It felt as treacherous as leaving her crying on her dormitory bed a decade ago after I suddenly broke up with her.
Just like then, I know I’m the asshole here.
And just like then, I don’t know how to avoid it.
Go home, Reed, my father had said. Which is just another way of saying:this is not your home anymore.
He couldn’t have been more clear.
“Are you back?” Sheila says into my earbuds as I unlock the door to my condo apartment.
“Yeah. Just getting home.” I push open the door and drag my suitcase in behind me. Then I take a look around.
“Everything okay?” Sheila asks.
“Just fine.” My condo is always clean and quiet, even after an unexpected trip. The once-a-week housekeeper has been by, so the place smells like lemon cleaner and slightly stale air. “The good thing about having no personal life is that nothing goes wrong when you’re gone.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” Sheila mumbles.
“Hey, there are perks.” The place is a tidy, glassy box with great views and a rooftop pool. “There are no pets looking for my attention and no plants in need of water. My place is low maintenance, if low character.”
“Just like you,” Sheila says.
“Hey! Why did you call, anyway? Did you need something, or is this just a drive-by character assassination?”
