Page 396 of Now and Forever

Chapter 148

Ava

Four days. It took him four, lengthy days to visit me again. It felt like a death sentence. A bit far-fetched, but it certainly felt that way to me. Did I frighten him—was that why he was putting this unmistakable barrier between us? I couldn’t help it, the questions rounded my brain, wondering what I had done wrong. Or he could simply be busy with his woman. He did, after all, have quite a voracious appetite. I didn’t understand him at all, because it was him who had primarily initiated physical contact, and then he disappeared.

I spent the wasted days talking to Allie over the phone, updating her on how things were with me and any small detail that was happening to me during pregnancy. My father called once, but I was in the bathroom, so I missed it. Furthermore, since he didn’t bother leaving a message, I thought that it might not be that important; thus I didn’t call him back.

You see, I’d been reflecting a lot, and I supposed there was an upside to the four-day seclusion. I even came to a point where I had a pen and notepad, sometime about two in the morning, writing down the things I wanted to accomplish. It was a bucket list of sorts, and some were simple thoughts and experiences I’d be interested in for the coming months.

Prenatal yoga.

Learn to cook Reiss’s favorite dishes.

Nursery ideas.

Baby names.

Set-up a small foundation, benefiting struggling new mothers.

My list wasn’t that lengthy; however, it would be my goals for the upcoming months.

What truly took me by surprise was the last entry. I’d had no idea I wanted to make a foundation, but once the idea sunk in, I felt like a possessed woman, researching what I would need to get it going.

The small foundation would help the less fortunate new mothers with baby gear, milk, diapers, and all the other essential baby supplies that were needed. Hours were spent researching prices online and how costly it would be for a new mother to provide everything to their newborn, especially when they were single mothers.

I had read blogs, story after story about how difficult it was for teenage mothers to support a baby. Most of them relied on friends and family to gift them the items. However, with the economic downfall, there was still an overwhelming number of people who hadn’t recovered. Some even said that having a baby was a luxury that most people couldn’t afford, because the job market still struggled to get on even ground.

Reading one heartbreaking story to the next, I fully decided that I could do something to make a difference. I wanted to partake in helping them. Even if it wasn’t handing them financial security, a little help could go on a long way. As long as I made a difference to their lives, easing their hardship one way or the other, it would be sufficient enough. Be it a stroller, a three-month supply of milk, or a month’s worth of diapers, at least it would help them somehow.

The monthly income I had from my investment dividends wouldn’t be enough if I wanted the foundation to be a large scale one. Of course, there was the option of running a fundraiser, but that would take up a lot of time and playing nice to wealthy people that I wasn’t so fond of. Therefore, that might not be something I’d be willing to do. It was a catch-22. Tricky, really. Well, I supposed there was the internet—emails, to be precise.

Going through my contact list, I had an excellent network of friends and acquaintances who might be willing to do a donation via online payments. All I had to do was set up a website enlightening them about it.

This was it!I could very well do this wherever I wanted as long as I had internet access. I could even give them an option for whether they were willing to donate on a monthly, weekly, or bi-weekly basis.

Giddy about the new project I had in mind, my brain was whirring with all the essential things I had to do tomorrow when a knock came at the door.

Hearing the ominous sound made me forget everything as I stilled, momentarily frozen. I took a moment to calm down my erratic heart rate. I knew it was him without even opening the door. I felt it all over my body. My senses immediately went on high alert, giving me a hefty warning that he was here.

“For heaven’s sake, Ava. Stop being such a besotted fool, even just for a second,” I grunted to myself as I envisioned going over to the threshold, opening the door, and greeting him as if I hadn’t waited for him in vain. I could very well pretend that I had been too busy to even think of him, as well.

Shaking off my nervousness and leaving it behind in the bedroom, I walked towards the door with my fakest yet laudable smile in place.

“Ava,” he greeted as he assessed me before taking a step farther and placing a soft kiss on my cheek.

This one simple gesture made feel all sorts of heady from his smell infiltrating my senses. It was on that moment of impact that my body felt vulnerable, my heart plainly visible, and the pain in my eyes flashed before him. It didn’t help my cause when he appeared to look impeccably gorgeous as ever, while I looked like a bedraggled cat with pronounced dark circles under my eyes from my struggling sleeping pattern.

“Reiss, it’s good to see you again,” my voice finally found itself after the momentary relapse. “Do come in.” Stepping aside to let him walk past me, I had to bite back a groan when his arm accidentally brushed one of my breasts. Even with my bra on, my breasts were highly sensitive.

“I have the papers for you to sign. Everything will be taken care of with your father’s legal team, thereafter,” he said right as I was shutting the door.

Facing him as I strolled towards where he was laying all the paperwork on the coffee table, I noted that the hair on the back of his neck had started growing, the polar opposite of the usual impeccable haircut he had donned since I had found him again. He must’ve been quite busy to neglect his grooming. My toxic thoughts could be dwelled upon once I was alone, but for the time being, I needed to gain focus and not get distracted by my suspicions and ill-feelings about his blatant rejection.

Taking the seat across from him, I picked up one of the papers, browsing through the legal jargon of what my divorce entailed. “Thanks for bringing this over, though you didn’t have to. I’m well capable of picking it up from my father’s office.”

“I’m sure you are,” he murmured as he took his seat, “but I wanted to make sure that all is set and everything is in order. I don’t want to risk any delay.”

Barely nodding my head, I took the pen that was readily available on the table before signing on the designated line. One paper after the other, I was burying Ava Westwood—the lost, broken woman who had suffered profound loneliness and had self-loathing for not being able to achieve her dream of being a mother.

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