Page 75 of Heart to Heart
“You don’t look like the stripper I ordered,” I deadpanned after opening the door.
“Got Denzel when you ordered a Hemsworth?” Tristan’s assistant asked with a laugh. “Most women just kind of go with it.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I’ve noticed, which is why I’m here.”
I raised my eyebrow, noticing a slip of paper in his hand. Casually, he peered down the hall before turning back to me, lowering his voice.
“This is from Tristan,” he said quietly. “Carrier pigeon has been officially added to my list of job duties.”
Heart racing, I took the paper from him. It was a close second to it being Tristan at the door, which was good enough for me.
“Have a nice night, Avery,” he said, turning to walk back down the hall. I nodded, holding the small slip of paper in my hand like it may disintegrate at any moment. Whatever message was in there, I knew, was going to be a big deal. Whether it was a good big deal or a very, verybadbig deal, I wasn’t sure.
The door latched closed behind me on my walk back inside my room, a curious mixture of nausea and excited anticipation. I sat down on the bed, holding the note in my hand momentarily before, with an exhale, I opened it and took in Tristan’s handwriting:
Avery,
Meet me at the beach at the bottom of the hill near your villa at 9. There’s
something I need to tell you.
-Tristan
It was a little ambiguous for my liking. There were any manner of things he may want to discuss with me. Maybe hewas having second thoughts and would be sending me home at the next elimination, or maybe it went much deeper than that. Whatever it was, I knew this night could be one of the most important nights of my life.
I looked up at the clock on my nightstand. Eight-fifteen. I had forty-five minutes before I had to meet Tristan, and I looked like I’d gotten into a tussle with an actual shark, with my hair in a messy bun, my makeup nonexistent, and hair I’d neglected to shave or pluck. If I was going to meet up with Tristan, I had some work to do first.
I rolled off the bed, crouching next to my suitcase, pulling out any and every beauty product packed inside, and raced to the bathroom. If Tristan was going to let me go tonight, I would make sure he spent the night regretting it.
CHAPTER 41
TRISTAN
I lookedat myself in the mirror, and any trace of the confidence I usually carried with me was gone. When I was on the cover of every magazine in the country, women practically threw themselves at me left and right. My early twenties had been fun, to say the least. Except those women, they hadn’t been like the woman Avery is. To them, my fame had been an aphrodisiac. To Avery, it was more like a cold shower. That, coupled with her desire to help her family over winning this competition, were reasons enough for me to question what she was going to say to me when I told her how I felt about her.
“You’ve got this,” I muttered, giving myself a pep talk. “She seems into you. This will go well. There will be some kinks to work out, but we’ll do it together.” I blew out a breath, smoothing out the material of my blue button-down. I’d forgone shaving because I knew she liked it better when there was a little bit of stubble.
Damn. I was in deep with her.
I checked my watch—a quarter to nine. Time to go.
A knock on my door stopped me in my tracks as I walked from the bathroom. I did tell Avery to meet me at the beach,didn’t I? Oh God, maybe it was John with bad news. She’d figured out why I wanted to talk to her and decided not to come.
My stomach in knots, I reached for the door and opened it, hoping to be met by Avery, but was instead greeted by a part of my past I’d long since buried.
“Jessica.”
CHAPTER 42
AVERY
I stepped onto the sand,cooler now in the waning light of evening, taking in the purples and pinks of the evening sky over the Pacific. By my calculation, it should be about one minute to nine. Without knowing what Tristan needed to discuss with me, I hadn’t wanted to appear too eager, but I also didn’t want Tristan to think I wasn’t interested. It was all a delicate tightrope, and I was determined not to fall.
The beach was deserted with no trace of Tristan or not-Denzel-Washington. Tristan didn’t strike me as not being a man of his word, so I sat down in the sand, looking out at the ocean as I waited for him. My sundress fanned out in front of me, collecting grains of sand at the edges. I ran my fingers through it, lifting up a handful and watching the grains slip between my fingers until my hand was empty. Similar to sand through an hourglass.
And I sat there watching those handfuls of sand slipping away for several more minutes while the sky grew darker and darker, my head turning toward the slightest noise, my heart breaking a little more with each passing minute that didn’t bring with it the appearance of Tristan.
