"There are so many things at stake now." I swivel the chair so I can face her directly. "I don't have a job anymore, and he has so much power over me-to hurt me. But at the same time … when he's open and loving … My god, he's amazing."
"Do you love him?"
I stare at her.
"It isn't a difficult question."
Maybe not, but it's a damn scary one. "I … yeah. I do."
"Then let's trust that you wouldn't have fallen in love with a man who isn't worthy."
Staring at the hand in my lap, I nod, but her faith in me only makes me feel worse. She doesn't understand what a terrible judge of character I can be-that falling for a man who's prone to making you miserable and doing terrible, irresponsible things because of that man runs in my family. Just look at my mother.
"I'm sorry, Darcy," I murmur.
"For what?"
"For complicating everything. If I were less selfish-"
"Ava, everyone deserves to try to find happiness."
"I promise I won't let Lucas jeopardize the adoption."
She pats my hand. "You've had a long trip, so let's let you rest a bit. I'm beat too." She smiles. "We should have a picnic tomorrow, if the weather's nice." Darcy loves spending time outside.
"Sure."
"Good night, dear."
"Good night, Darcy."
I watch her disappear into the newly done master bedroom on the first level. Guilt niggles at me, and I can't help but feel like I'm taking something from her that I have no right to.
Even if Mia is really mine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lucas
I hang my keys on the hook in the foyer, and shut the door. The house is dark and slightly cold. My housekeeper Gail doesn't heat the main area unless I'm in town.
Tonight the place feels larger and darker … bleak, even. I scowl into the hall as a knife twists in my gut. Jesus. This is always how it is coming back from a trip. What the hell is the matter with me?
I hit the switch by the kitchen, and light pours over the granite countertop and the fridge. A couple of bottles of excellent red await me, along with two wide-rimmed glasses. I instructed my assistant Rachael to get them so Ava and I could enjoy ourselves tonight.
The sight of them only makes the knife inside my gut dig deeper.
For some reason, I never expected her foster father to actually show. Well … I didn't expect anybody to show. Nobody picks me up from airports or calls to see if I'm all right. Nor do they expect texts letting them know I'm okay.
I have an absurd urge to text Elizabeth, because she's the only one who won't mock me for feeling the way I do.
Jesus. Stop being so clingy. Nobody likes immature, needy …
I go to my bedroom, stripping down along the way and discarding my clothes in a long trail. It doesn't matter if Ava's not with me at this particular moment. She's on the same continent, in the same country, the same state, the same city. Hell, her foster parents' place is in the same gated community. This is not a big deal.
I remind myself of that again as I slip into the cool sheets, phone clutched in my hand.
The grandfather clock out in the living room ticks, and I can hear it through the closed door. Or perhaps I'm imagining it; my brain's going at two hundred miles an hour.
Why isn't she calling? She said she would.
Oh please. Don't tell me you really believed that. People say what you want to hear, but at the end of the day, they do whatever they want. Haven't you learned that by now?
I have. I've learned it especially well.
If you behave, maybe I won't have to send you away to camp. My mother, standing with her arms crossed.
If you behave, maybe you won't have to go to boarding schools like your half-siblings.
If you behave, maybe I'll take you with us on our trip to Italy.
And it wasn't just Betsy. There were others.
You're important to me. How can you not know that?
Of course I'll come by to see you.
The only one who never played that game is Elizabeth, but she's above such petty bullshit.
So is Ava. She's never said she'd do something then broken her word.
What about Blake?
I frown. If she claimed Blake said that shit to her, he probably did, even if he denies it. He probably forgot because he says shit to everyone he meets, kind of the way most people wouldn't remember a particular meal from six months back. When you eat all the time …
I close my eyes and imagine an invisible metronome is in my room, slowly ticking away. The trick always helps me fall asleep, no matter how agitated I am.
Bit by bit my muscles loosen. My eyelids grow heavy and my brain starts to drift. Air fills my lungs, then leaves in a steady rhythm.
The phone in my hand vibrates, jerking me out of drowsiness. I stare at the text.
You asleep?