Page 78 of Maid in Heaven

Silence.

“I waswondering if we could go awaytogetherfor the weekend.”

He felt as if all of the air had been sucked from the room. “You know I can’t do that, Ava. I have a child.”

The line went silent for a moment.

“I’m sorry.It was stupid of me to even ask.”

Will wanted so badly to say yes. The wordbit at his tongue, begging him to release it, but he held it at bay. “I have no one who can watch her overnight.I barely trust the babysitter for a few hours. She’s just a kidherself, pretty much.”

“I know.”

“I’m sort of on my own here.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” Ava croaked, regretting the question.

“Where were you wantingto go?”

“I was going to take youto Salem.” She quickly corrected herself, “Oregon, not Massachusetts. That would be crazy.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled.

“The cherry trees start blossoming soon. They do a whole festival for it. I’ve always wanted to go.More than anything, it was just an excuse to be alone with you.”

“Well, I know it’s not much, but my babysitter is free on Saturday.”

“Fantastic. How about we have dinner at my place? Around seven?I’ll cook you something in my now-clean kitchen.”She chuckled softly.

“What a treat. I’d love that.”

“It’s a date.”

Will swore he could hear her smile through the phone.

30

Will rang the doorbell,and Ava answered it, swinging open the door to reveal herself. His heart nearly stopped.

Ava wore a slinky dress. The red fabric hugged her curves. A low, plunging neckline showcased her cleavage. The slit up the side put her smooth,moisturized legson display.

“Wow.” It was all Will could think of to say. Beneath his jacket, he worea deep blue button-down and pressedslacks.

She beckoned playfully with a finger, and he followed her inside. He looked around, hanging his coat on the hook by the door.

The house had been cleaned. No clothing on the furniture, floors swept,surfaces dusted. It lookedlike a differenthome.

“Wow, again.” Will looked at the spot on the wall where her torn wedding photo used to hang, now replaced by a tasteful paint-by-number of a blossoming, pink Kwanzan cherry tree in a frame.

“Did you paint this?” He pointed to it.

“Sure did. I’m a regular Picasso.”

“Is it new?”

“It is. I don’t know if you know this, but I recently lost my job and have a lot of free time on my hands as of late.”

He laughed and bobbed his head, looking around. “Something smells amazing.”

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