Frisk Me(79)

“’Kay,” she said warily.

“Why are you in broadcast journalism instead of investigative journalism? Not that the two have to be mutually exclusive, but I’ve seen the way you latch on to topics. I doubt you’ve ever been satisfied with trying to squeeze a juicy story into two minutes of the evening news.”

Ava looked at him. The question sounded so simple rolling off his lips.

The answer, she realized, was alarmingly simple as well.

She’d pursued this path because it’s the path her parents put her on. Starting when she was sixteen and her father had gotten her an internship with the local nightly news. It had continued to her college essay…her college major…her first job…all driven by her parents.

Ava groaned and rested her head on Luc’s shoulder.

“I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Plenty of people get started on the wrong career track for the wrong reason. There’s no shame in it. And you have plenty of time to course-correct.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “I know what I have to do, I guess. It’s just…All I’ve ever wanted is for them to be proud of me, you know? And I know that the good parents are proud of their kids for trying their hardest, or pursuing their dreams, or whatever…my parents really will only be proud of me once I’m anchorwoman. And if they’re not proud of me…who will be?”

Luc said nothing, his blue eyes steady. I will.

“Sims, do you want to be anchorwoman?”

“Of course,” was on the tip of her tongue. Even now. As though her brain had just programmed itself to perk up at the word.

She waited for the old burst of anticipation to rush through her. She used to be able to picture her future so clearly. The gorgeous clothes, the cushy chair, the easy banter she’d have with her co-anchor during light stories, and the quiet intensity she’d convey during the heavier stories.

But for the first time since she’d loaded up her used Toyota Corolla and taken a one-way trip from Oklahoma to New York, Ava had a seed of doubt:

What if it wasn’t enough?

What if there was more?

“I think the thing is,” she said, forcing herself to meet Luc’s eyes, “I’m afraid I’m sort of like that villainous career woman you see in the movies. The one that has no husband, no serious boyfriend, no baby, few friends…the one who’s got the good clothes and the perfect hair but is completely hollow.”

He opened his mouth, but she pushed on.

“Luc, if I died tomorrow…if I got hit by one of those annoying tour buses in midtown, what would people say at my funeral?”

He looked at her. “You’re messed up.”

“I’m serious!” she said, scooting closer, her fingers finding the fabric of his shirt and clinging. “Would anyone have anything to say about me that wasn’t related to my career?”

“Yes. They’d also mention your unpaid parking ticket.”

“Luc,” she said on a little laugh, shaking him.

“Okay, okay…you want to play this creepy, morbid game, let’s play it. Are you driven? Yes. Ambitious? Sure. Have you maybe let your parents push you in a direction that isn’t you? Maybe. But Sims, none of that makes you a bad person. Not even close.”

“But—”

“Your dad is an ass,” he interrupted. “Frankly, your whole family sounds like a bunch of smug jerks. Family is meant to boost you up, not tear you down, and you got the short end of the stick on that front.”

“But my eulogy…”

Luc groaned. “You’re such a weirdo. Okay, you want to know what I’d say if someone asked me to sum up Ava Sims?”

She nodded and started to reach for her wine, but his hand grabbed her wrist. He tugged her forward until she was almost on top of him, leaving her no choice but to lift up and straddle him on the couch.

The cat, in turn, had no choice but to hop to the ground, and Ava was pretty sure she was just on the receiving end of the feline equivalent of the stink eye.

Ava refocused on Luc, assuming he was trying to distract her with sex, and she was all for it, but then she saw his face and froze.

He looked…tender.

His eyes were warm in a way she hadn’t seen before, and he gently reached up to straighten her glasses before his big hand rested against her cheek, before stroking along her messy ponytail with a gentle smile.

“Sims,” he said quietly. “I haven’t known you long. I don’t even know that I know you well. I don’t know your favorite ice cream, or whether you love or hate scary movies. I don’t know if your first kiss was a total dud, or whether you prefer lazy beach days or checking out prissy museums while on vacation. And while I do know that you love sushi and hate high heels and tend to be bossy, none of that’s what I’ll remember about you when we’ve parted ways.”

Ava’s eyes were glued to his, mesmerized by his quiet words.

“What will you remember?” she asked, her voice husky.

His hands slid up to her face, cupping her cheeks. “I’ll remember the way your lips feel against mine. I’ll remember the way you trust me enough to take off your high heels around me. I’ll remember the way my chest squeezed when I first saw the real you, in the sexy glasses and messy hair. I’ll remember the way you wiggled your way into my family in record time, managing to make Vincent smile, Anthony laugh, and remind Elena all the reasons she’s always wanted a sister. Mostly, I’ll remember the way that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the moment I saw you in Brinker’s office.”