One step at a time. And surely I’ll be happy on my own.
After breakfast, I ask Ray, “Is there a pot I can use?” He and Darcy maintain a bountiful herb garden in the back. “Just a small one. I want to plant something.”
“But it’s fall, love,” Darcy points out.
I force a smile. “It’s fine if it doesn’t survive or do well. I just want to try.”
“There’s an old terra-cotta pot in the shed,” Ray says. “It’s pretty small, but if you just want to experiment, it might be enough.”
“That’d be perfect. Thank you.”
I walk into the shed and see the pot Ray was talking about. It’s old and slightly discolored, a sun-faded reddish orange. But it’s exactly what I need. I take it to the backyard garden and fill it. Thankfully the pot’s small so it doesn’t require much time or dirt. I’d hate to leave a big hole.
When I bring it inside, Darcy looks at it curiously. “What are you trying to grow?”
“A very special something,” I say.
“A mystery, huh? Well, hope it works. It’s such a pleasure to watch something grow and thrive under your care.”
“I hope so, too.” I speak with more confidence and verve than I’ve had in days. This little pot is going to make my point crystal clear to Lucas.
At nine thirty sharp, Lucas shows up, knocks on the door and waits. Ray gets up from his armchair, ready to tell him off yet again, but I rise to my feet.
“I’ll deal with him.”
Ray’s eyebrows go up a notch. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He stands there, clearly wanting to go with me. “If you need reinforcements, we’re right here.”
I give him a small smile. “I know. Thank you.”
I take the pot and go to the door. Before Lucas can knock again, I open it.
There stands Lucas. A white button-down dress shirt and black slacks look good on him. Some men are made by clothes, but Lucas isn’t one of them. He makes the clothes. But no matter how well cut, they can’t hide the weight loss. His facial bones are sharper and starker. Concern stirs inside me, but I quash it immediately.
I don’t care, not anymore.
“Ava,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as though he’s afraid to spook me. He wets his mouth. “Are you ready to listen?”
“I’m ready to give you five minutes, but only if you do something first.”
“Name it,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I hand him the pot, careful not to let our hands brush. I don’t think I could bear it if we touched skin-to-skin. “Take this.”
He does, eyeing it warily. “What is it?”
“I want you to take care of it for the next two weeks.”
“Then what?”
“Then bring it back.”
His squints slightly. “Is this some kind of test?”
“If you want to think of it that way… Sure.”