Fight or Flight(99)
Harper chuckled. “What does that mean exactly?”
“It means I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life. I want a family. It’s time to get back out there, no matter how frightening it is to make myself vulnerable to someone again. It’s time to start fighting for what I really want.”
My friend went quiet.
“Harper?”
“When … you get all that—and I know you will because you’re amazing and there are plenty of guys out there who will see that—so when you get him and you start popping out little mini versions of yourself … you won’t forget me, right?” She laughed, like it was a joke, but I heard the pain underlying the question.
“Of course I won’t. But you know you’ll be too busy with your own guy and little mini versions of yourself too.”
“I’m not there, Ava. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
I thought of the therapist, a Dr. Ren, Harper got an appointment with at the end of the week. It was during my lunch hour so I could go with her as a silent support in the waiting room. “We’ll see.”
I could practically feel her rolling her eyes. “I don’t know how I feel about this optimistic version of you.”
“I don’t know how to feel about it either. She scares me.” I laughed.
Harper didn’t. Instead she brought tears to my eyes when she said, “I think she’s brave.”
Twenty-nine
Fred Russo was in the middle of showing me new curtain fabric that he’d ordered, and I was oohing and aahing over the beautiful shimmering silk taffeta, when my cell rang. “Stella,” I told Fred, giving him an apologetic look before walking to the other end of the storeroom for some privacy.
“Stella, I’m at Fred’s,” I said as a greeting. “Is everything okay?”
“Ask him for an update on my order for Lola Perera.”
“I will.”
“I’m just calling to let you know your handsome friend popped by the office five minutes ago, seeming very anxious to see you. In fact, he was under the impression I was lying about you not being here. Trouble in paradise?”
Caleb had come by the office? During his workday?
My stomach churned at the thought of facing him. What did he want?
“He said since he can’t get you on your phone, he’s left a message on your office phone and would you please do him the courtesy of returning his call.”
“Thank you,” I said, my voice flat even to my ears. “I really better get back to Fred.”
“Ava—”
But I rudely told her I had to go and blew out a shaky breath. I stared at my cell for a minute or two, trying to decide if I was ready to hear his voice. Since I’d spent the entire morning convincing myself that I was ready to face my fears, I really had no option but to dial into my office voice mail.
“You have three new messages.”
I impatiently waded through the first two messages from clients and then it felt like my heart stopped at the sound of his deep voice. He sounded pissed.
“Ava, where have you been? I stopped around your flat on Saturday and Sunday … We need tae talk. Call me immediately.”
I replayed Caleb’s message. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so much from just hearing someone’s voice. Guessing at why Caleb wanted to see me was too dangerous a game to play, so I refused to allow my mind to go there.
I did, however, play the voice mail a second and third time, rubbing at the ache in my chest as his voice rumbled in my ear.
“Everything okay?” Fred called to me.
No, I thought. No, it’s not okay.
But one day it would be.
I snapped my phone shut.
It had to be. Because the alternative was not an option.
Despite my best efforts, I could not get Caleb’s voice out of my head, and I agonized over whether calling him back was a good idea or not. Even as I sat in a quiet café with a client, I wasn’t fully focused on discussing the redesign of his bijou apartment. Part of me was pondering the Caleb problem. Did I meet with him, let him say whatever he needed to say, so I could move on? Or did I decide he didn’t deserve that chance and cut him out of my life entirely?
Since both options made me feel sick with uncertainty, it was proving a very difficult decision.
After the client meeting it was lunchtime. Nervous about heading back to the office in case Caleb turned up again (and also because I didn’t want to answer Stella’s inevitable questions), I stopped at the Earl of Sandwich in the Common and grabbed a tuna melt and iced tea to go.
I hadn’t eaten much the last few days, but I was determined to nibble through the wave of nausea that had clung to me since my conversation with Caleb. Lost in my thoughts as I strolled from the Common toward the Public Garden, I was jolted back to my surroundings when a man blocked my way.
“Ava?”
Blinking in surprise, I needed a moment before recognizing him. And honestly, I didn’t know how to feel when I did. “Leo?”
He gave me that handsome boyish grin and waved a half-eaten sub at me. “I’m on the go too. Where you off to?”
I gestured toward the Charles Street entrance into the gardens. “Just walking. Eating.”
“Can I join you?”