Page 143 of One Touch

“Menbaggage,” I stressed. “An almost husband followed by an almost love-of-my-life.”

“That’s why we need to find someone new for Lils,” Mary-Beth said.

“Tell me about them,” Marge said. “The almost husband and the almost love-of-your-life. I promise I won’t write about you.” She batted her eyelashes at me. “Probably.”

Well. It’s not every day that your favorite author asks you about your love life. So, I did it—I told her all about it.

“Oh my stars,” she said at the end of my long, strange story. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sugar, but your life sounds like a romance novel without the happy ending.”

“If my life were a romance novel, I’d rate it one star,” I said, taking a gulp of fresh blood. “No. Zero stars.”

“It’s because you haven’t read the ending yet, darlin’.”

“Except for the fact that I’m still in love with a man who wants nothing to do with me.”

Marge’s expression softened. “You know, dear, the best love stories often have a few false starts. Don’t give up just yet.”

I shook my head, fighting back the lump in my throat. “I appreciate that, Marge, but I think I already have. Some things just aren’t meant to be.” I stood up, nearly knocking over my chair as I stood. “I need some air.”

I made my way to a quieter corner of the bar, my hands shaking as I pulled out my phone. Before I could stop myself, I typed out a message to Ethan:

I miss Ava too. But it’s best if we don’t keep in touch. I don’t want to speak to you or Ava. I need to move forward with my life. Take care, Ethan.

I hit send, then turned off my phone. Rushing to the bathroom, I locked myself in a stall and finally let the tears fall. My body shook with sobs as I slid down to the cold floor.

This was it. I’d officially closed the door on any future with Ethan. It was for the best, I told myself. He didn’t want me, and I couldn’t keep torturing myself.

No happy ever after, not even a happy for now. Just this: drinking blood-red cocktails in a glass dome, reading one murder after another, and pretending Ethan McCoy had never existed.

Chapter 24

Ethan

Ava pushed her cerealbowl away, barely touched. In all my years of parenting, the only times she’d ever turned down breakfast were when she’d been ill.

“Everything all right, kiddo?” I asked, setting down my coffee mug.

For a horrible moment, I wondered if she’d seen Lily’s text message on my phone. But Lily had sent it late last night, and Ava had just gotten up. There was no way I was going to tell her Lily wanted to cut off all communication. It would have broken her. It was already breaking me.

Ava fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt, her blue eyes fixed on the floor. “Dad, if I tell you something, do you promise not to be mad?”

My heart clenched. “I promise to try. What is it?”

She took a deep breath. “I finally finished it.Firefighter Daddy. Ms. Brown’s been helping me with it. Ever since my diagnosis, she’s been really kind to me. She says I can read it out to the class.”

I smiled widely. “Why would I be mad about that? That’s awesome, Raver.”

She grimaced. “You haven’t read it yet.”

I looked at my watch. “We’ve got ten minutes before you have to leave for school. Why don’t you show me?”

Ava’s face lit up. “Really? You promise you won’t get angry about it?”

“Cross my heart,” I said, making the gesture, though I really didn’t know what I could possibly be angry about.

Ava dashed to her backpack and pulled out a stack of papers held together with a binder clip. My eyebrows shot up as I recognized the crude drawing on the cover—a familiar firefighter in a red helmet. I remembered Lily drawing that helmet and Ava coloring it in. I tried not to think about Lily. This was about Ava.

“Here it is,” she said, handing it to me with a mix of pride and nervousness in her eyes. “I rewrote some of the start. Updated it.”

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