Realisation floods her eyes, as well as a little happiness. Something has just clicked for her. ‘So that’s why I was at a posh sex club!’
I nod and move over to a black leather couch, lowering and keeping Ava on my lap. ‘Tell me your last memory. What’s the most recent thing you remember, Ava?’ I take her hands and hold them on my chest, watching as she falls into thought, her forehead creasing in concentration. I wait patiently for her to try to find what she’s looking for, soundlessly willing her on.
‘I was working for a company called Rococo Union.’ Her lips twist as she looks up at me. ‘There was a man I was seeing. But it wasn’t you.’
I feel like a knife just plunged into my fucking heart, and though I fight not to show it, I know my nostrils are flaring dangerously. ‘Is that it? There’s nothing else?’ I try not to sound too hopeful. It’s hard when I’ve never hoped for anything more. Just a little something for me to work on. ‘Anything?’
Her blank expression, the fact that she’s stalling her answer, tells me she doesn’t. ‘I’m sorry.’ She looks away, probably to avoid the disappointment on my face.
Her despondency kills me. I pull her forward, wrapping my arms around her shoulders. ‘It’s fine.’
‘Take me home.’ She snuggles into me, and I feel her tears soaking through my shirt. ‘Please.’
I’m up from the couch quickly, carrying her out, trying not to let myself feel defeated. It’s still early days, and she’s heard only a morsel of our tale. Yet she’s exhausted by it already. But I won’t quit. It isn’t in my DNA, especially when it comes to this woman.
Chapter 18
I let us into our home and toss my car keys on the table in the hallway. Ava has been so quiet since we left The Manor, so thoughtful and pensive. And I just know that she’s trying to wrap her mind around the fact that her husband once owned an exclusive sex club. I feel like my past – the secrets, the hard truths – is rushing forward and drowning me again, albeit in an entirely different way. I’ve never felt so fucking helpless.
‘Tell me about our first date,’ she says as she settles at the island and I get us some water from the fridge.
Our first date? Christ, I just know she’s imagining something romantic like women do. All flowers and feelings and smiles. There was all of that, just not in the way she’s probably expecting. ‘It’s a little . . . unique.’ I take some water and shut the door, risking a peek over my shoulder.
‘Unique?’
‘Not much about our relationship is conventional. Never has been.’ I nibble on my bottom lip, wondering where to start. ‘We should go into the lounge where it’s more comfortable.’ I hand her the water and pick her up without thought, carrying her to the crushed velvet couch by the fire in the lounge.
She doesn’t say a word, but I can practically see her thoughts churning. It’s slowly driving me mad, constantly trying to guess what’s going through her mind. I can’t go on like this. ‘What are you thinking?’ I ask, setting her down on the sofa and joining her.
Pulling her feet up onto the couch on a little grimace of pain, prompting me to help lift her injured leg, she looks around the grandeur of our lounge. ‘I’m thinking this room has my name written all over it.’
I know that’s not what she was really thinking, but I humour her, also taking in the gold and crimson décor. It’s my favourite room in the house, for that very reason. It is my wife through and through. ‘You were never one hundred per cent happy with it.’ I don’t know why. To me, it’s perfect. But Ava always said there was something missing, and for the life of her she couldn’t put her finger on it.
‘The curtains need something on the header,’ she says out of the blue.
I shoot her a look, finding her staring at the drapes. ‘Like what?’
‘Some decoration on the pencil pleats. A crystal here or there, maybe.’ She shakes her head and returns her attention to me. ‘What are you smiling at?’
‘Nothing.’ I kick my feet up on the coffee table and relax back as best I can with her not in my arms any more. I just want to yank her close. All this gently-gently is weird. Fucking painful.
‘So, our first date?’ she asks, pulling me out of my funk, my head dropping to the side to find her.
‘It depends what you call a first date.’
‘Oh God, was I easy?’
I bark out a bout of laughter. Easy? I fucking wish. ‘Far from it. And it drove me wild.’
‘But I went on a date with you?’
‘We’d had sex a fair few times by the time I actually took you out for dinner.’
‘I was easy.’ She grimaces, as if disappointed with herself. She shouldn’t be. If anything, it was me who was disappointed that it took so long for her to finally give in to the pull that was driving us both to distraction. ‘I shouldn’t be surprised since I know how quickly I fell pregnant.’ She shakes her head in dismay, and I keep my mouth firmly zipped closed. ‘But part of me was hoping you’d tell me we met, sparks flew, you asked me out, we dated for a time, we eventually fell into bed and made romantic love, and then when the time was right, you proposed. And we lived happily ever after.’
It’s as I thought. All sweet and light in that mind of hers. Idyllic fairy tales. Fucking hell, she’s so far off the mark, she may as well be on another planet. ‘Not quite like that.’
‘Then like what?’ She’s hungry for information, keen to learn. I’m not sure I’m very keen to tell.
‘Well, when you refused to entertain my . . .’ I pause, wondering how best to position it. ‘Advances.’ That’s diplomatic enough. ‘I had to get creative.’
‘I refused?’ Her eyes take a little trip down my reclined body, clearly wondering why she turned me down. It plants another seed of hope that I pray won’t be killed off before it has a chance to grow into something beautiful.
‘Yes, and it’s a question I asked myself many times, too.’ I smile when she finds it in herself to rip her stare away from my chest. ‘You’re stubborn. Always have been, always will be.’
She sniffs though doesn’t argue, pressing on with her thirst for information. ‘Creative how?’
I open my mouth to tell her exactly how, and then think better of it. This needs careful approaching. ‘You refused to come back to The Manor to fulfil your designs, and I knew it was because you were wary of me, of the feelings you had. It was most frustrating.’ I half scowl at her, and she half smiles in return. ‘So I promised I’d stay out of your way if you came back and finished the job.’ I can see her trying to cast her mind back. ‘But I didn’t.’
‘Stay out of my way?’
I nod. ‘Staying away from you proved very . . . tricky.’
‘You must have had a real crush.’
‘A crush?’ I laugh. ‘An obsession would be more apt. You blew me back, with your beauty, your voice, your passion for your job. For the first time in years, I felt alive.’
‘Years?’
I knew we’d have to go over this, but . . . God, it’s not something I relish the thought of. ‘I was a bit of . . .’ I fade off, thinking how to make it sound less sordid. ‘A playboy.’
‘Well, that’s not a surprise, since you owned a sex club.’ She’s taking it rather well. It’s a stark contrast to the reaction back in the day. If only she’d been this willing to listen and accept back then, when she discovered the communal room. I shudder, remembering the train wreck that ensued. ‘So you used to screw around?’ she asks.
‘Something like that.’
‘But you stopped when you met me? ’
‘I stopped,’ I say, hating myself for bending the truth. Positively hating myself. I’m being selective with what I tell her, and I know in my heart of hearts that it isn’t fair.
‘Why don’t I believe you?’ She tilts her head, scanning my worried face. ‘You’re lying to me, aren’t you?’
I close my eyes, stress creeping up on me, and swallow down my fear. I can’t even appreciate the fact that she’s reading me like a book, like she knows me inside out. ‘There was this one incident.’