27 Truths: Ava's story (The Truth About Love Book 1) (16 page)

“I’m not saying names.” I shake my head. “I’m not.”

“Fine. Then tell me about the person”—he pauses—“who broke your heart.”

The oven buzzes, telling me it’s up to temperature.

“Where are your baking pans?”

He stands up and grabs one.

“Do you have more?” I ask.

“Are you hungry, Ava?”

“Yes, and this chicken needs to be cooked before it goes bad. Then it can be frozen, and you don’t have to throw it away.”

“Are you avoiding?”

“No.” I look at him and shake my head. “The person who shattered my heart is me.”

He looks confused, as well he should be.

Love is confusing.

I tell him the story of a little girl loving the little boy and twisting fate. I tell him that story through tears and shame and guilt. I tell him everything except his name, knowing he knows the little boy is Luke. I cannot break my promise to Luke Lane, even after he broke my heart.

Thomas goes through several different emotions—anger, sadness, jealousy—and at one point, he walks away and goes out onto the balcony.

I don’t get angry at his reaction. I don’t get upset because he walks away. How could I? He feels it. He feels my pain, and I am sure he is just as confused by it all as I am.

The oven timer goes off, and I get up from the couch and take the chicken out. Then I dig through his cupboards because they aren’t set up like they should be; there is no flow to his kitchen.

As the chicken is cooling and T is outside doing the same, I start moving things to where they should be. Baking dishes beside the oven, glasses above the sink, and when I am about to move the silverware, he walks in and stands on the opposite side of the island, looking at me.

“Sorry I moved stuff.”

His eyes are locked on mine, his eyebrows turned in, and his jaw is set. I have to look away.

“I probably should have asked.”

“Why didn’t you?”

His reaction catches me off guard, and I look up at him. “I guess I didn’t want to have to ask you where things are. I know it’s stupid. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a deep breath, and his features soften. “I’m fine with it. Better than fine if it means you’re making yourself more comfortable here in our home.”

“Your home,” I whisper, looking down.

“Ava, you won’t be with him again.”

I shake my head.

“And you want to be with me? You want to be here?”

I nod.

“Then move anything you want.” He walks around the island then lifts me up until I am eye level with him. “You allowed your heart to be broken by someone undeserving.”

I feel my bottom lip quiver as he sets me down on the island.

“You tried to love someone enough for two people, and it didn’t work.”

“I know.”

“I love you enough for a million lifetimes, but I am not stupid enough to believe I can make it work if you are unable or unwilling.”

“I was stupid.” I look down and begin wringing my hands.

“No, Ava, you learned of heartbreak later in life. I learned it at a young age.”

I sigh and put my hands on his hips, glancing up.

“You ready to live, to love, to be loved.”

I nod, and he smiles.

“Good, because we deserve that. You and I deserve—”

He stops when I pull his hips closer, wrap my legs around his waist, reach up, and grab the back of his head then whisper, “I’m gonna love you so hard.”

He reaches under me and lifts me by my butt before kissing me. “I can’t wait, my goddess.” Then he pushes up my skirt and strokes my silky panties, “You’re wet.”

“You make me that way,” I tell him, and he moves my panties to the side then shoves two fingers in me. I gasp.

“Fuck, Ava.” He pulls his boxers down and rubs his head against me before pushing inside just enough that I am already done. Totally done.

“Yes,” I cry into his shoulder.

“Love you, Ava, so hard.” He thrusts in fully, and I fall apart. “Christ,” he hisses as he pushes me back against the counter. “Lie back.”

“Here? But the chicken—”

“Fuck the chicken. I want your pussy.” He pushes the baking sheet to the ground.

“T!”

He pulls out of me then bends down to kiss my waist, my hips, my belly button, my … everything.

“Yes,” I cry. “God, yes.”

After I have come, he stands up and thrusts into me fully.

“Condom!” I cry.

“No, Ava.”

“But, what if—”

“That’s the plan.”

“T, it’s too soon.” My words come out broken and breathless.

He stills. “How do you measure forever?”

I don’t say a word, not one. I am at a complete loss.

“Tell me yes, Ava,” he says as he thrusts slowly in and out of me.

My head nods yes, my heart beats yes, and my body screams yes.

“It’ll be a wonderful life, Ava,” he groans as he rolls his hips, buried deep inside of me.

“Yes,” I gasp. “Wonderful.”

***

I am standing in his bathroom, looking in the mirror and smiling like a fool, wrapped in a towel after a shower with Thomas.

My heart is full. I am exhausted, and not from heartbreak, not insecurity, not pain. I am exhausted from the most amazing feelings I have in my head and heart. I am exhausted from him and me and us and no one else.

I watch as he walks out of the shower gloriously naked, beautifully naked. God, I like naked.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

I smile. “I like you naked.”

“Perfect, because I think we stay in this weekend, order out, and never get dressed. Sleep, eat, explore, make love, and talk.” He spins me around then holds my face in his hands. “God, Ava, I never wanted anything like this before. Never thought there was anything as good as women literally falling at my feet, having a full stomach, and never having to worry about where I would sleep. I was … happy. Over the fucking moon happy.”

I meet his eyes in the mirror and feel love for him, a love I don’t understand.

“Why do you look sad?” he asks with his lips at my ear.

“I don’t want to rush this, but I don’t want it to ever end.”

He hugs me tight. “We’re never going to end.”

“Promise?”

“I promise that our love will never get old or tired. It will never die. I promise, Ava. I promise you forever.”

***

We’re sitting on the living room floor, me still in a towel, him in nothing, eating pizza.

My phone alarm goes off, and I look at it. It’s an alarm I set to take my birth control pill.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

“Yeah, but …” I stop and laugh.

He smiles. “What is it?”

“It’s a reminder to take my pill, but—”

“Birth control?”

I nod.

“Well, then delete that alarm. You no longer need it.”

“In the heat of the moment, it was a wonderful idea to say yes. In reality, I think we should—”

“No planning. No thinking. No going back. We move forward and enjoy our lives. And no damn pill.”

“Shouldn’t we discuss our goals and dreams and future plans?”

He nods curtly. “Goals obtained. Dream came true.” He squeezes my knee. “My future is yours, and yours is mine.”

I smile, and he smiles back.

“It’s not that easy.”

“It is if you let it be,” he counters.

“Let’s pretend I get pregnant.”

He grins. “Yes, let’s.”

“I want my children—”

“
Our
children.”

“
Our
children,” I agree. “I want them to be raised knowing everyone at home. I want my dad to coach their football team, and I want Piper to be her best friend. I want her and him to be as happy as I was.”

T nods. “I want our children to be raised by two parents who love each other madly. I want them to never wonder what love is. I want them to be full of life, and love, and”—he smiles and lifts a slice of pizza up to my mouth—“pizza.”

I take the bite he is offering and nod as I chew. “We could show them that anywhere,” I say after I swallow.

He leans back against the couch. “I bought this place a year ago. When I bought it, I imagined you and I and four kids. I imagined us sharing with them the city culture and the love in our home.”

“I love it here.”

“We can visit your home anytime you want, but this is our home, Ava. This is a place where no one can tell us how to live or how to love. No one can judge us or push themselves between us.”

“Thomas, if we are meant to be, no one will ever come between us.”

His brows turn in and he looks unsure. I don’t want him to feel that way.

“I want to be with you. It doesn’t matter where we end up,” I tell him.

“We’ll be stronger here.”

I set down my pizza and climb onto his lap, straddling him. “By the time we have kids, I think we’ll know that we can be strong anywhere.”

He looks up at me, placing his hands on my hips. “I want you all to myself.”

I feel my smile spread from the inside out. “Good.”

We spend the weekend in bed, and when Sunday night rolls around, I tell him I need to go home. He tells me I am home. I tell him I have work. He tells me I need to consider quitting.

I laugh. “That’s absurd.”

He doesn’t laugh. He looks at me, deadpan. Immediately, I feel angry.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what, Ava?” he asks as he walks to the sink and gets a glass of water.

“Don’t shut down.”

He drinks down his water then sets the glass beside the sink. “I want you here.”

“I want to be here, too, but I have to work.”

“No, you don’t have to work.” He turns around and crosses his arms over his chest. “I make enough money to support us very comfortably.”

“I went to school to become a lawyer and busted my ass for seven years to do so.”

“I’ll hire you.” He shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“You may have a fight with my father about that. He’s tried the same thing for years. I went through school on my own. I have a job that I got on my own.”

“Well, I’ll have whatever discussion I need to with your father,” he says in a very arrogant manner.

“I’d like it if you’d allow my father to get to know you and like you. He’s not your enemy.”

“Does he know that?”

“T, I’m his daughter. When you have kids, you’ll most definitely be as protective of them as he is of me.”

“Is he protective, Ava? Does he know about Luke Lane...Liam?”

I walk toward the bedroom and start putting on my clothes. He doesn’t take the hint; he follows me.

“Does he know that he fucked up as your protector by allowing you to get fucked by him? He did a pretty shitty job, Ava.”

“Fuck you,” I tell him, pulling on my skirt.

He gasps. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck. You,” I say more slowly.

“Tell me I’m wrong?”

“You are
so
wrong.”

The bitch in me is dying to come out. She is ready to say hurtful, awful things to him and somehow, this … filter … or something is stopping me.

“You aren’t leaving,” he snaps at me from behind.

“I had a lovely weekend. Best one in forever. Have a great night, T.”

He stands in front of the elevator, angry, pissed, brutish, and Lord help me, sexy.

“You walking me out?”

It takes him a moment of searching my eyes to see I am not changing my mind. “I’ll try to be nice to your father, even though he obviously hates me and doesn’t want us together.”

“He loves me, T. He’ll be fine.” I hold my head up high.

“Don’t leave.”

“I have to,” I say with a put-on smile.

He doesn’t say a word to me after that, not until the next morning when he sends the sweetest text.

What time do you leave for work, beautiful?

I smile bigger after reading it.

Twenty minutes.

Have a wonderful day.

You, too.

When I walk outside to hail a cab, there is a black SUV sitting at the curb. A blonde-haired woman in driver attire gets out and opens the door.

“Miss Links, Thomas would like to offer you a ride to work.”

I climb in, expecting him to be inside. Instead, there is a hot cup of coffee, a bag of pastries, and a big smiling sun balloon.

I grab my phone and take a selfie of me with the balloon and a crepe, blowing him a kiss. Then I type, “
Better than flowers,”
and hit send.

A reply comes seconds later.

Morning wood has nothing over Ava wood.

Funny, you should send me a pic.

And he does.

I WAS KIDDING!
I send back, laughing.

I wasn’t. What time do you get out of work?

Five.

I would love to take you on a date.

Will it end with a make-out session at my door?

It will end up with my face between your thighs.

Okay, he has me. I flop back against the soft leather seat and commence swooning as I message him back.

See you at 5.

I never call in sick, ever. Today, though, I can’t get up without feeling dizzy. I think the late nights with Thomas, which have been every night this week, have caused my exhaustion. If that’s not the reason, I think I’m dying.

I hit snooze on my phone’s alarm. Ten more minutes and I may be all right.

I feel my bed buckle, and it causes me to shift. That shift causes me to move, moving plays hell on me, and I fly up, covering my mouth as I run to the bathroom where I throw up over, and over and over again.

“Ava,” T says, pulling my hair back as I lay my head against the sink, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit.

“You should leave,” I say and then throw up again.

He hands me a wet cloth. “Never.”

“You’ll get sick, T. You have a show in two weeks. Go,” I tell him as my legs begin to tremble.

“Shh.” He turns on the water and cups some into his hand before he holds it in front of my mouth. “Drink.”