Page 50 of Beautiful Lies
“I don’t know how long it will take…or even if—”
“I’ll wait.”
“Connor…”
She sat back as the waitress served our food. For a few seconds, she just stared at it spread out in front of us. Then she lifted her gaze to me and we both laughed as Tammy Wynette started singing about standing by your man. “Such a lame song,” she said, picking up an empanada. “Tammy wasn’t much of a feminist.”
“After all, he’s just a man,” I quoted.
“Exactly. What can you expect?” she asked, taking a big bite of her empanada. “Sounds like the woman has to do all the heavy lifting.”
I jerked my chin at her iPad. “You should be taking notes. Tammy’s giving you some good advice.”
“How to build up the weaker sex. How to accept everything he does even when you don’t understand it. How to forgive him for every shitty thing he did… over and over. I should have earned a badge for that.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She diverted her gaze and I could tell she regretted saying the words, but she’d said them anyway. When you love someone, you give them the power to destroy you. With a careless word. A look. A gesture. You know how to hurt them more deeply than anyone else ever could. Love makes you vulnerable, exposed, your soul bared to them.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean that.”
“You did. But it’s okay. You earned the badge.”
She didn’t respond. While she ate, she devoted her attention to building a spreadsheet. An extensive to-do list of all the thingsweneeded to accomplish over the next two months, all designed to get me ready for this fucking exhibition while I also ran the shop and did everything else I needed to keep myself on the straight and narrow. Gym time. Healthy eating schedule. My weekly meetings. It sucked. All of it. I’d always considered myself a free spirit, a law unto myself, but that hadn’t worked out so well. As much as I hated following a schedule, following all the rules, it was now one of life’s necessities.
Ava and I had changed. Life had changed us. Turned us into people I sometimes didn’t recognize. But sometimes I still caught fleeting glimpses of who she used to be. Back when Ava was more trusting, more open, more willing to believe that I could be someone good. Someone worthy. Someone she wanted to build up instead of tear down. Maybe I was still clinging to the past, holding on to fragments of a dream that had vanished.
“Does working at the bar make you happy?” I asked her when I dropped her off in front of her apartment.
“I love my job.”
“Good.”
She tilted her head, reading the skeptical look on my face. “Why the doubt?”
I shrugged. “I always thought you’d do something creative. Dance or choreography… I never pictured you working in an office.”
“I studied business in college.”
“I know.” That had surprised me, too. I had always thought Ava belonged in a spotlight, not hiding behind textbooks and computer screens.
“Who knows? I might run off to the Cirque de Soleil someday.”
“You’d be the star of the show.”
Her smile faded. “I hate it when I hurt your feelings.” I shrugged one shoulder like it was no big deal. I wished the words would just slide off my back, but they never did. Words had always hurt me more than fists. I’d learned to roll with the punches years ago, and had developed a tough exterior, but words… they still got under my skin and echoed in my head long after they were said. “I’ll try to refrain from bitchy comments.”
“Say whatever you need to.” I pounded my fist against my heart. “I’m wearing my suit of armour.”
“You can handle the slings and arrows from my sharp tongue?”
“Even the poisonous ones. Let ‘em fly.”
“My knight in shining armour,” she teased.
I winked at her and watched her walk away. When she reached her front door, she turned and blew me a kiss before going inside. I held my hand against my heart.
Ah, Ava, you slay me.
13
