Ava choked out a little laugh. “Shouldn’t I be lying on a couch for this sort of analysis, doc?”
“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’ve always wondered if your career ambitions weren’t born out of stubbornness more than actual interest.”
“Thanks for telling me,” Ava muttered. “You could have saved me a couple years.”
“Eh. It’s a sunk cost,” Beth said with a wave. “Move on.”
“From therapist to economist just like that,” Ava said with a snap of her fingers. “What’s next?”
Beth folded her arms. “Next? Best friend. What caused the epiphany, Ava?”
Ava forced herself to meet her friend’s eyes. “He did. And no,” she said, holding up a hand when Beth’s freckled face started to go irate. “I didn’t give up my career for a man, so don’t go all woman-hear-me-roar on my ass. I’m trying to tell you that for the first time in a long time, something mattered to me more than proving my dad wrong, more than sitting behind that desk.”
“And that thing is…Luc Moretti.”
“Yeah,” Ava replied quietly. “I want Luc more than I wanted the job. Which in turn got me thinking about why I wanted the job in the first place, and I realized…I didn’t.”
Beth’s shoulders slumped. “Love. It’s a bitch, huh?”
“Totally.”
“Do you need money?”
“No,” Ava said, grabbing her friend’s hands. “No, I actually got another job. Actually, it was Luc’s sister who provided the introduction. Starting in two weeks I’ll be employed by the Times.”
“As in the New York Times?” Beth asked, face confused.
“Yup.”
“Newspaper? Print journalism? Isn’t that…a change?”
Ava shrugged. “Yep. But it’ll allow me to do what I’ve always done best. Tell stories. And if I want to tell them while wearing no bra and yoga pants, they won’t care.”
“Can you even write?”
“Ye have little faith, friend. Yes, I can write. I’ve always written all my stories out before I turn them in to be truncated for TV media. I gave them some samples, and…they hired me.”
“Does this mean your and Mihail’s weird relationship is on the skids?”
Ava felt a little wave of sadness. “Yeah. He’s happy for me, but he belongs behind the camera. And not the point-and-shoot kind. We’ll still be friends, though.”
The tailor hovered, and Beth held up a commanding bridal finger. One more minute.
“Ava.” Beth’s voice went uncharacteristically soft, quiet. “Are you going to fight for him?”
Abruptly Ava felt the now familiar lump in her throat. “I don’t know how, Beth. I told him I love him and he all but kicked me out. Is it possible to get much more vulnerable?”
“Maybe he’ll come to you. Maybe he just needs time.”
“Yeah,” Ava said, forcing a smile. “Maybe.”
But she didn’t believe it for a second.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Luc, you’re being an ass, you know.”
Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.
Luc rolled his shoulders restlessly against the way his uniform chafed uncomfortably against his skin in the hot, crowded diner. “This coming from you?”
Vincent shrugged, looking perfectly comfortable in his white linen shirt. Most of the time Luc wasn’t jealous that as a detective, Vincent had the option of wearing plainclothes while the rest of the family had the standard-issue uniform.
Hell, for occasions such as this, Vincent probably would have done well to wear his dress-up uniform too.
But…this was Vincent. Doing the expected was not really his thing.
Vin nodded in the direction of Anthony who was currently locked in conversation with some of the other NYPD captains. “How long until you think he starts asking us to call him ‘Captain’ at family dinner.”