Page 23 of Triggered By Love
She settled back on the sectional sofa and pulled out her unfinished afghan. The colors seemed off, or maybe it was the slanted rays of the setting sun washing out the blues.
“What do you want to watch?” Joan asked, switching on the television.
“Whatever you want, as long as it’s not news.” Avery looped the yarn around her crochet hook. Try as she might, she couldn’t tamp down the jitters, and she pulled the yarn too tight around the hook.
“What’s wrong?” Joan asked after the minutes of laugh tracks dragged on. The air inside the stuffy apartment was too heavy, and Avery felt like a fish gasping under algae-thick water.
“I might be coming down with a cold, or maybe I’m just too tired,” Avery said. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Oh, you poor dear.” Joan put her hand on Avery’s forehead. “No fever, but I’ll understand if you wish to go home.”
“It’s not that. I enjoy spending time with you.”
“And you have, many evenings. But let me tell you a secret.” Joan smiled warmly and her eyes crinkled. “Youth is wasted on the young. Don’t let the years slip by without living it up.”
“I did live it up.” Avery felt the tears well up. “I just thought I’d have more time.”
With him.
“Have you ever wondered why you’re still here? Why we’re here?”
“All the time,” Avery said, putting away her yarn. “It’s not fair.”
“No, but it means you do have more time,” Joan said. “It’s a gift. Don’t let it go to waste.”
“Being here is not a waste.” Avery wiped her eyes. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Absolutely not.” Joan folded her into her arms. “I love you like a daughter, and I know we’ll always be close. But you have a life to live without me—without Brando. He wouldn’t want you to just exist. Your publicist is right. I think it’s time you started dating again.”
“I already told you it’s a fake setup. I’m having coffee with him tomorrow so Alida can start a rumor.” Avery recoiled at Joan’s uncalled for encouragement. “You’re being noble, and you don’t want me to feel guilty.”
“You have nothing to feel guilty about.” Joan patted her back. “Nothing. I’ve accepted that my son gave his life for you. I just want to see the killer caught and punished, but I don’t want you to live in limbo until then.”
Avery let out a stale breath, shaking her head. The fact that Jason was somewhere in the building upset her more than she wanted to admit. She had to get out before he came out of Tatiana’s apartment.
“Will you excuse me if I do leave now?” she asked. “I’m exhausted.”
While Joan packed the empty food containers, she ordered a rideshare, happy to see her favorite driver was available.
Minutes later, she marched out of the brownstone, looking neither right nor left, because no way would she want Detective Burnett to think she was looking for him.
A stretch limo idled on the curb directly in front of her, and the driver was leaning against the car hogging up all the parking. Avery kept her gaze down. She certainly hadn’t ordered an upgraded ride—especially one with a driver who lounged around wearing jeans and designer sneakers.
Her rideshare, an economy car, pulled up, and she hopped into the front passenger seat.
It was Saul, who also worked as a barista. His mouth widened into a genuinely happy smile, and he made a motion like he was taking her picture.
“Good to see you, Avery,” he said. “Calling it an early night?”
How was it everyone seemed to know her habits? Maybe she was too obvious with her routine.
“Yeah, I haven’t been sleeping well,” she said, checking her messages. “So much on my mind with the fashion show.”
“I bet it’s a lot to do.” He pulled from the curb and laid on the horn. “Idiot.”
Avery looked up from her texting and caught a hard stare from Jason as Saul jerked the car to avoid hitting him.
“That was close.” She looked back over her shoulder.
