Fight or Flight

“The man you saw me with on Saturday?”

Nick winced. “Yeah?”

“He’s the best sex I’ve ever had, Nick. He made what you and I had in bed look like an inexperienced fumble in the dark. And even if I didn’t currently have that man in my bed, you would never be welcome back in it. So if you came here looking to satiate some need that has driven you for years to cheat on a woman who deserved better, then you can go to hell.”

He paled. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you standing in my office talking to me about how you miss sex with me when your wife has just died?”

“I don’t know,” he moaned. “I’m saying it wrong.”

“Do you want me to forgive you on Gem’s behalf? Is that it?”

“You knew her best. What would she say?”

“Did she know, Nick? Did she know about this other woman?”

“Women,” he whispered. “They looked like you.”

I suddenly felt queasy as understanding began to dawn. Nick thought he loved me but it wasn’t love. It was an infatuation he’d never been able to rid himself of. He’d self-destructed over and over again, searching for something that didn’t exist. And he’d pulled Gem right down with him. Along with the queasiness, I felt an unbearable sadness for my lost friend, and an impatient need to get her widowed husband out of my sight. “She would have forgiven you,” I whispered back. “She gave up a lot for you and Gem would have needed to believe that you were worth it.”

“She wanted a baby so badly. She thought it would bring us closer together. I killed her.” He suddenly sobbed.

I flinched, looking down at my desk, the ache in my chest for Gem almost more than I could handle. “She loved you. Just hold on to that.”

“Say you understand, Ava, please. Say you get it now. That you know I really did love you. I think I still—”

“Don’t.” I glared over at him. “Get this through your head now, Nick, and then leave and don’t come back. You don’t know me. You never knew me. Forget about me and move on with your life. Go home and grieve for a woman who I have to believe in your own weak way you loved. And then forget about the past. I have, Nick. I’m not saying this to be cruel. I’m saying it for your own good—I don’t love you. I don’t even like you. A part of me wants to be angry at you for Gem’s sake. But you don’t deserve to have that from me. So now, as soon as you walk out that door, you’ll be just a memory.”

For a moment he stood there staring at me, like he couldn’t quite believe this was how it was ending. Was he honestly so delusional he thought it would end differently?

“Your mom thought …”

“My mom thought what?” I asked wearily.

He shook his head, his smile bitter. “She thought you were still in love with me.”

“You do remember my mother doesn’t know anything about me, right?”

Nick gave me a sad, pathetic smirk. “It’s coming back to me now.”

“Good-bye, Nick.”

He stared at me for so long I gestured to the door.

Finally, he nodded. “Good-bye, Ava.”

And as he disappeared out of my office, his footsteps fading away, I felt a peace settle over me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. Two days ago I never would have imagined being brave enough to have this discussion with Nick, but Caleb was right. I had needed to do that.

I thought about calling Caleb to confide in him about the disturbing and woeful conversation I’d just had with my ex, but that felt too much like something a girlfriend would do. Instead I called Harper.

“Harp, you won’t believe what just happened to me,” I said on her voice mail. “Call me so I can tell you all about it.” I hung up, hoping she would return my call. I’d spent much of yesterday rolling around in bed with Caleb, but during a breather I’d called Harper and she hadn’t picked up. Not sure if she was mad at me or avoiding the questions she knew I had about Vince, I was a little worried.

But if I knew my best friend like I knew I did, she wouldn’t be able to ignore me if she thought I needed her. And right now I needed to tell someone about Nick, because part of me couldn’t even believe that had just happened.

Harper had texted me to grab a quick lunch with her at the restaurant so we could talk. I was hurrying toward Canterbury when my cell rang. Seeing it was Roxanne Sutton, my hard-to-please client, I groaned, but answered the call as I turned left on Milk Street.

“Roxanne, how are you?”

“How am I?” Her high-pitched voice screeched through the phone and I winced. “I’ve just seen the chaise for the master bedroom. Who approved that fabric choice? Because it was not me!”

Irritation made my skin flush hot, but as always I kept my feelings on the inside where they belonged when dealing with a client. “Roxanne, you did approve it. I sent you samples over a week ago that you approved. My upholsterer got to work straightaway and the chaise is the first completed piece for the master suite.”

“I did not choose that fabric,” she insisted. “And frankly, I am appalled by your lack of commitment to this project. Stella assured me that you were just as good as Paul, but I am having serious doubts.”

Irate as I found myself marching down Pearl Street toward Canterbury, I did my best to mask it. “I’m truly sorry you feel that way because I certainly have been giving my all to the project.”

“Not your all. Now …” She took a deep breath. “I am willing to give you a second chance because I have seen the work you’ve done on previous projects that I found satisfactory—”

High praise indeed.

“So I insist that you meet me at the summerhouse again, on Wednesday, so I can remind you of what it is that I’m looking for in this redesign. Hopefully the visit will help you recommit to the project.”

Dismay filled me, my immediate thought of Caleb and how he was only here for a few more days and I would lose them if I went to Nantucket. “I’m afraid that’s a little short notice, Roxanne. I do have other projects—”

“Are you saying my money isn’t important to you, Miss Breevort?”

I stumbled to a stop, disappointment filling me as I realized I would have to do this. “No, of course not. I’d be happy to meet you at the summerhouse. But I can only be there Wednesday. I have to return to the office on Thursday.”

“Well, we’ll just need to see about that. I can’t let you leave until I’m assured you truly understand my vision. I expect you at the house at ten a.m. sharp.” And then she hung up on me.

Deflated, annoyed, and generally wishing I hadn’t gotten out of bed that morning, I made my way into Canterbury in desperate need of my friend’s shoulder, pronto.

As I wandered over to the hostess’s podium, I caught sight of Jason Luton, the owner and head chef. He was conversing with his bar manager and lifted his head to acknowledge me as I walked in. He said something to his staff and then began making his way over to me. Jason was average height for a guy, with a slim, athletic build, concealed at the moment by his chef whites. He smiled at me and despite my bad mood I couldn’t help but smile back. Jason was a very handsome man in his mid-forties. His hair was gray but it did nothing to detract from his crinkly, sexy, twinkly blue eyes or charmingly lopsided smile. He had the kind of charisma that made your belly flutter.

He was also happily married and father to two daughters.

“Ava,” he said, bending down to kiss my cheek. “It’s been a while.” And did I mention the attractive British accent?

“How have you been?”

“The same.” He shrugged, looking around proudly at his restaurant. “Tired but happy.”

“And how are Gillian and the girls?” I asked after his wife and kids.

“Brilliant as always.” He gestured for me to walk with him and so I did. “Here to see Harper?”

“Yeah, she suggested we have lunch together.”

“She’s just working on a new concoction I’m sure the critics are going to rave about.” His eyes brightened at the thought. “I’ll send her out.” He pulled out a chair at a private table near the fireplace. “Lunch is on me.”