Page 16 of Choose Me

“Ava,” his voice was husky, and his ocean-blue eyes bore into mine, swallowing me whole. He pulled me up, helping me stand before him again, and cupping my face in his hands, he kissed me in appreciation.

“Turn around so I can wash your hair,” he ordered.

I did.

I had no complaints as he lathered shampoo and conditioner through my hair, massaging my scalp with his fingers. I felt some of the tension of him leaving for Miami this morning melt away, even if just during this moment that we spent together in the shower. I knew that if I didn’t keep my emotions at bay and let on for a second that I didn’t want him to leave me, I knew he wouldn’t. He would stay for me, and I knew that the ramifications that would happen to his career, his reputation, and the life we were building together would damage him far worse than a couple of weeks spent apart.

So, I kept it together while I watched him get dressed, while he finished packing his suitcases, and on the drive to the airport. Everett drove so James and I could spend some extra time together. I rested my head on his shoulder and gripped his hand, interlacing our fingers together. I focused my attention on the scenery outside the car windows, blurred by a misty fog while overhearing bits and pieces of Everett and James' discussion about the human trafficking case that James had been working on here in Manhattan.

As we pulled up to the front of the airport and got out, I focused on putting on a brave face, hoping to convince him that I would be fine, but my heart was heavy with worry and fear. I watched him gather his bags and say goodbye to Everett. James turned to me and held my gaze. His eyes were filled with love and pain, knowing that he was leaving me behind. He pulled me to him, enveloping me in his arms, and I clung to him as he whispered in my ear. He held me close, whispering hushed reassurances into my ear, pleading for me to stay safe and keep in contact with him.

“I will come home as often as I can. I want you to text and call me anytime you need me and check in with me, please.”

I nodded, my cheek pressed against him, fighting to swallow the lump that was crawling its way up my throat, threatening to suffocate me.

“Please take care of yourself and the baby. Please don’t overdo it in the apartment. Let Everett help you with whatever you need.” He pulled away and bent down to kiss my stomach, letting his lips linger on the pink fabric of the long-sleeved shirt I chose to wear. “Be nice to your mommy, little one. I’ll be home soon. I can’t wait to meet you.”

My eyes pricked with tears, and I bit my lip, fighting the urge to sob in front of him. He stood up and kissed me firmly, leaning his forehead against mine, and let his lips linger on mine for a few seconds.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered against my mouth.

My chest felt heavy, and I fought to suppress the tears that were dangerously close to pouring from my eyes. If I opened my mouth to speak, I wouldn’t be able to keep it together, and it was so important that he didn’t see me upset. He pulled away, and I watched as he disappeared from view, pushing his way past the travelers who were unloading from their taxis and saying goodbye to their loved ones. The airport was crowded, and it was hard to make out his form among the sea of people. As I turned to leave, I spotted him through the glass doors of the departure lounge. He was looking back at me, his eyes filled with guilt and sadness—before he disappeared from view.

Everett put a comforting arm around me and led me back to the car, and it was then that the paralyzing lump that had been crawling its way up my throat had finally won, and the floodgates broke open, hot tears streaming down my face.

I pulled my seatbelt on and struggled to calm myself down, suddenly exhausted. Everett started the car and pulled out into traffic. He didn’t push me to talk, but he did place his hand over mine in a subtle attempt to comfort me. My sobs tore through me like an earthquake, shaking my entire body while tears streamed uncontrollably down my face.

We drove silently for a few minutes, me struggling to contain my emotions and Everett occasionally glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I focused on my breathing and eventually felt some of the tension in my shoulders disappear.

When we hit a red light, Everett finally spoke, “Do you want to get some food?” he asked softly, squeezing my hand.

I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak without breaking down again. He nodded understandingly and went back to looking at the road. The rest of the car ride was filled with heavy silence, and when we pulled into the parking garage of the penthouse, Everett got out of the car and walked around to open the passenger side door for me. When I didn’t move, he took my hands in his and looked me straight in the eyes.

“I know this is hard right now,” he said. “But you’re not alone. I will be here with you, keeping you safe and taking care of you and your baby nugget until James comes back. I won’t let anything happen to you two.”

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I know. It’s just…it’s hard to be apart from him, you know? And the pregnancy hormones, they don’t help.” I rolled my eyes in playful annoyance.

“I know,” Everett said softly, “But hey, why don’t we go upstairs, and I will cook you brunch.”

I managed a small smile. “Brunch sounds good.”

We rode the elevator up to the penthouse, and Everett put an arm around my shoulders, leaning in to whisper, “Does baby want pancakes or an omelet? Or bacon? Or, how about a paco?”

“What in the world is a paco?” I questioned, my curiosity piqued.

Everett chuckled softly, his breath tickling my ear. “It’s a secret recipe passed down in my family for generations. It’s like a breakfast sandwich but with a twist. Great for sopping up alcohol in your stomach or satisfying your post-sex craving for carbs,” he paused, looking down at my pregnant belly. “Or, in your case, to calm the babies’ cravings. It’s made with scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, avocado, and cheddar cheese, all wrapped in a warm pancake. It’s like a sweet and savory breakfast taco. Literally, if you could have an orgasm in your mouth, this would be it. The crème de la crème of breakfast foods.”

I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, and my mouth watered at the thought. “That sounds delicious,” I replied, letting him lead me into the penthouse, where he instructed me to sit at the bar top and watch him cook. He donned a white apron, really settling into his role in the kitchen. He pulled out a cast iron skillet and started cracking eggs into a bowl. He added a pinch of salt and pepper and whisked them together until they were frothy. Next, he took out a jar of red chili paste and added a dollop to the eggs, stirring it until the mixture was vibrant orange.

“This is the secret ingredient,” he said, holding up the jar. “It’s what gives the paco its kick. But if you tell anyone, I’ll have to kill you.” Everett grinned mischievously.

He poured the egg mixture into the skillet and let it cook for a few minutes until the edges started to set. Then, he flipped it over with a flick of his wrist, revealing a perfectly cooked omelet with a spicy aroma that filled the kitchen. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I couldn’t wait to dig in. Once he finished making the pancakes, he began making me a plate.

“Bon appetit,” he said, sliding the plate in front of me. I picked the paco up, took a bite, and moaned at the explosion of flavors in my mouth. The spice was just right, not overpowering but enough to make my tongue tingle. The eggs were fluffy and light, and the cheese melted perfectly inside.

“This is amazing,” I said, taking another bite and savoring the taste. “I had no idea you were such a good cook.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he shrugged modestly. “I’ve had a lot of practice over the years, and it’s just something I love to do.”

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