Damn it. Am I that transparent?
Of course you are, moron. Why else would Elizabeth have sent the info to get you to go after Ava?
I make a face, suddenly annoyed with myself. Modulating my tone, I say, “I’m finished with that town, now that everything’s been resolved.” With Ava’s signature at the end of a two-page agreement. “Time to find something else, keep myself occupied so I don’t die from boredom.”
“Perfect. I’ll also let Nate Sterling know you’ll be in L.A. for the medical center opening tonight. He asked me about it, and I sort of demurred.”
“Good. I’m going to do what I can for that center.” Even if my initial interest was due to Ava, I’m not going to turn my back on the project. It’s a worthy one, something that could really benefit the community.
“I’ll send you the latest schedule.”
We hang up. Within fifteen minutes, the cabin attendant serves me another glass of ice wine and informs me that we’re ready to land. Finally.
I look out the window. Los Angeles suburbs have begun to appear through wispy desert clouds, grids of streets laid out on a sere and tawny land. Here and there are green patches, where new homeowners have hooked up their sprinklers. I’m as far from Virginia as I can be without fleeing the lower forty-eight.
Fleeing? What the fuck. It’s not fleeing. I’m leaving.
You’re toxic.
My teeth grind together. So are you, Ava. You with your bullshit test and bullshit words.
I’m not letting her destroy me, strip me o
f everything until all I can think about is pleasing her. I’ve been down that destructive path before. Never again.
Two million bucks is my way of clearing the slate, making sure we have nothing more between us, so I can move on. Scars or no scars, I’m young, rich and smart. I don’t need Ava.
I don’t need anyone.
The car that’s waiting for me is a freshly waxed Bentley SUV. Someone loads my lone suitcase into the back while the driver holds the door open. He’s in his late thirties, his hair a pale gold and eyes ice blue…coloration that reminds me of Ava. He has to go.
No, don’t. If you do that, you’re letting her win.
He can stay. Thoughts of Ava don’t necessarily imply desire. They can be contempt…disgust…
I climb into the car and get taken to Blake’s penthouse. The traffic in L.A. sucks, cars sitting on roads, burning up gas. But at least here I can be free, away from the ugly memories and hateful indictment of what I am.
Leaning back in my seat, I think about my immediate objectives for the next two months.
One: start working.
Two: find a wife—preferably someone who doesn’t find me toxic and gross. Now that I’ve come this far, I might as well help my siblings get the damned paintings. Fuck my father and his Bitch Number Six.
Three: forget Ava. Purge her as completely as possible from my life, my thoughts…my memory.
My phone buzzes with an email from Rachel. She’s already found the five most promising propositions to help me achieve Goal Number One. I take a quick look.
The first is a leadership speech for a Fortune 500 retreat in Vegas. Not bad. The rest are startup-related items. My twin brother Elliot does consulting for tech firms and startups to keep himself out of trouble…not that that’s helped. I only do them when I feel like it—which is the case now. The one about online cognitive behavioral therapy seems the most interesting. I make a mental note to look into it more closely.
I glance outside, and there’s a platinum blonde on the sidewalk. Something about the way she’s walking seems so familiar, my heart stops for a moment. The woman is slender, wearing a simple lavender dress. Her long hair hangs down a trim back, and as the car passes, I crane my neck to get a better look. She’s into something on her phone, a small smile on her lips. A pair of sunglasses hides her eyes.
The traffic picks that moment to finally start moving, and the car speeds up, pulling away. Damn it. My pulse throbs unevenly.
Ava. Ava. Ava.
Damn it. I run a palm roughly down my face. Just what the hell is wrong with me? I left Charlottesville to forget her, and look at me—pitifully hopeful and full of pain in my heart.
Remember the third objective—forget Ava. Fuck her. She set me up.