Five Years Gone: A Standalone Contemporary Romance Page 16

  “I think I know.”

  “Yeah, I guess you do.” He turns me to face him and gazes down at me. “I love you, Ava.”

  “I love you, too, Eric.”

  It feels more official this time, when we say it face-to-face.

  He kisses me softly and sweetly. “And the blow job was fucking epic.”

  That makes me laugh so hard, I mess up the kiss. But that’s okay. There’ll be plenty more of them to look forward to later.

  Chapter Seventeen

  AVA

  Miles and Skylar hit it off like a house on fire while the rest of us spend the evening pretending we aren’t watching them. I’ve never seen him so animated or engaged, and she looks positively gobsmacked. If this isn’t a love connection in the making, then I’ll hang up my matchmaking cape forever.

  It’s a fun evening all around. Everyone loves my lasagna, and the Tildens are entertaining as always, especially now that some of the dust has settled on their parents’ breakup. For a while there, I wondered if they would ever be the lighthearted, fun-loving group they once were, but they’re slowly getting back to normal, or what counts for normal these days.

  “I had lunch with Dad yesterday,” Jules says when we gather in the living room with after-dinner drinks. “He seems really good, better than he’s been in a long time.”

  “I’ve thought that lately, too,” Rob says. “Ever since Mom left and he announced he’s not running for reelection, he seems unburdened.”

  “Imagine knowing for years that your wife is cheating and having to sit on that while you’re responsible for the entire state of New York,” Amy says, shuddering. “It’s a wonder he didn’t have a breakdown.”

  “I talked to him about online dating,” Jules said.

  “He can’t do that!” Rob says, horrified. “He’s the freaking governor.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “For the better part of another year,” Rob replies. “He cannot be on those sites while he’s still in office, Jules. Seriously.”

  “I hear you. I was just planting the idea for later.”

  Rob relaxes, but only slightly. What he doesn’t say, but we all know, is that some of the shine has gone out of the Tilden family name since the scandal hit. He thinks his siblings don’t know that he wants to follow their father into politics. Their parents’ messy split makes his path much more fraught with pitfalls than it was before. Eric told me that Rob has big plans, but he doesn’t talk about them.

  “Dad’s had enough bad press to last a lifetime. The last thing we need is the Post catching wind of his online dating profile.” Rob cringes. “I can’t even imagine what they’d do with that—and I don’t want to.”

  “I hear you, big brother,” Jules says. “Loud and clear.”

  “Nothing says he can’t try online dating when he leaves office,” Camille says.

  “Maybe he’ll meet someone the old-fashioned way long before then,” I offer from my perch next to Eric on the sofa. His arm is around me, and my hand is on his leg. His body heat keeps me nice and warm as the temperature drops outside and puts a chill in the loft. We’ll have to turn on the heat before much longer. “Too bad there’s not another family wedding coming soon. I hear that’s a great way to meet people.”

  The others laugh as Eric tightens his hand on my shoulder.

  Rob’s phone buzzes with a text that has him sitting up straighter. “Holy fuck,” he says in a tone that sends shivers down my spine. “They got Mohammad Al Khad in a Special Forces raid in Afghanistan.”

  Amy jumps up. “We need the TV. Where’s the remote, Eric?”

  Miles and Skylar, who were still seated at the dining room table long after the rest of us decamped to the living room, join us to gather around the TV to watch CNN. They report that an elite team of US Special Forces infiltrated the compound in a remote corner of Afghanistan where Al Khad, his family and closest associates were hiding out.

  “The Pentagon is reporting several fatalities among Al Khad’s family and associates,” the anchor says, reading from a piece of paper. On the bottom of the screen, a breaking news crawler repeats the same news the anchor is reporting. “We don’t have information yet on whether there were casualties on the American side.”

  I’m freezing. I’m so cold, my body trembles uncontrollably. I have no way to know for certain whether John was involved in the raid, but I tremble nonetheless.

  Eric tunes in to my distress and wraps a blanket around me.

  “What’s the matter, Ava?” Camille asks, her brows furrowing with concern.

  I can’t speak or think. I can barely breathe as I wonder if I’m going to be sick.

  “She lived with a guy in San Diego who was deployed on the day of the attack,” Eric says, speaking for me when I can’t speak for myself. I hear the uncertainty in his tone. He’s not sure I want him to share this, but it’s okay. I don’t mind if he tells them something I should’ve told my sister long ago. “She hasn’t seen or heard from him since.”

  “Oh my God,” Camille says. “Do you think… Is he…”

  “She has no way to know,” Skylar says.

  “You knew this, too?” Camille asks, hurt radiating from her. “Was it serious?”

  “Yeah,” Eric says, continuing to rub my arm. “It was.”

  Camille, who was standing, sits next to Rob, her expression bewildered. She has questions that thankfully she doesn’t ask now when I have no answers.

  I burrow deeper into the blanket and watch the story unfold on TV. They don’t know the status of the soldiers who went in after him. They don’t know how many people were killed. Because they don’t have details, they bring in a progression of talking heads who offer speculation as the anchors ask one repetitive question after another.

  “How much planning would be involved in a mission like this?”

  “It could’ve been years in the making.”

  Years in the making…

  The anchor interrupts with an update. “We’re hearing now that at least two US service members were killed in the raid.”

  My stomach surges, and I’m running for the bathroom before I’m aware that I’m moving. The dinner I lovingly prepared for our friends and family comes rushing back up, the bile stinging my throat and bringing tears to my eyes.

  Eric is there, holding my hair back and soothing me the way he has from the beginning.

  The trembling is so violent, it makes me feel like I’ve been plugged into a machine that makes my body shake.

  “Easy, sweetheart,” Eric says when the vomiting finally stops. He runs a cool washcloth over my face and holds me tight against him. “Breathe. That’s all you need to do right now. Just breathe.”

  I close my eyes and focus on getting air to my lungs. That’s all I’m capable of.

  Then Camille is there, too, squatting to brush back hair that’s stuck to my face. How can I be sweating when I feel frozen to the bone? “What can I do for you?”

  I shake my head. I don’t know. I don’t know anything. Was John part of capturing Al Khad? Is this what he’s been doing all this time? Is he one of the dead service members? Will I ever get answers to these or any of my hundreds of other questions?

  I remember Miles is here and probably more affected by this news than I have any right to be. I force myself to pull it together, struggle free of Eric’s hold and stand on shaking legs. I brush my teeth and run a brush through my hair, my trembling hands making the simplest of tasks difficult.

  Eric stands and places a hand on my shoulder. “Ava, honey… Give yourself a minute.”

  “I need to speak to Miles.” On my way to the door, I squeeze Camille’s arm and step into the main room of the loft, where Miles is sitting on the sofa, his eyes glued to the television while Skylar sits propped on the arm of the sofa next to him, seeming uncertain of her role here now that the Al Khad news has upended our evening.

  I sit next to Miles and rest my hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

 
“I’m kind of numb, actually.” He glances at me, his gaze full of raw pain that tells me he’s anything but numb.

  He’s my boss. My big boss. But he’s also my friend. And that’s why I wrap my hands around his arm and lean my head on his shoulder. Though we’re in a room full of friends, we may as well be on an island by ourselves, survivors in a sea of people who can’t begin to fathom the shared journey we’ve been on long before we ever met.

  “Brings it all back,” Miles mutters.

  I nod because I understand. We were doing better, and now we’re plunged back into the nightmare that never really left us, even as we did our best to push it into the past.

  “Do you think he was involved?” he asks.

  “I have no idea. I may never know.”

  We watch the coverage in strained silence for quite some time before Miles clears his throat. “I need to… I need to walk, get some air.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” I ask him.

  “That’s okay.” He gives me a one-armed hug and kisses the top of my head. “Thanks for dinner.”

  When he stands, Skylar does, too. “Would you mind if I walked with you?” she asks.

  He hesitates, but only for a second. “No, not at all. It would be nice to have some company.”

  I fetch their coats and hug them both while Eric stands with me to see them off.

  “I’ll check in with you tomorrow,” Miles says on his way out.

  “Call me if you need to before then.”

  “I will.” He shakes Eric’s hand. “Thanks for having me.”

  “Any time.”

  Skylar hugs me, says she’ll text me later and follows Miles out the door.

  I close the door behind them and lean my forehead against it for a full minute before I turn to contend with the questions the others are sure to have.

  Eric puts his arm around me.

  I lean into him as we cross the room and sit together on the sofa.

  No one says anything, but I know they’re waiting on me. I try to find the words, but my brain is blank, my attention drawn to the unfolding drama on TV.

  “Ava was with John for two years before he was deployed, the same day as the attack on the ship.” Eric holds my hand and speaks in a low, soft tone that the others hang on. “As I said before, she’s never seen or heard from him again.”

  “Ava,” Camille says on a gasp. “All this time, you suffered over this alone?”

  “That was how she chose to handle it until recently,” Eric says. His firm tone puts Camille on notice that he won’t appreciate her picking me apart. Not right now, anyway.

  Camille glances at the TV. “Do you think that it might be…”

  “She has no way to know that. She may never know for sure.”

  After a long silence, Jules says, “I’m really sorry that happened to you.”

  “Me, too,” Amy says. “I can’t imagine…”

  “I wish I’d known,” Camille says, subtly wiping away tears. “I would’ve tried to help in some way.”

  I smile at her. “That means a lot to me. There was nothing anyone could do.”

  “Um, we ought to go and give you some space.” Rob stands and offers a hand to Camille, who takes it somewhat reluctantly, or so it seems to me. She probably wants to stay, but he’s right. I could use some space.

  I hug them all, saving my sister for last. “I’m sorry if you’re hurt. That wasn’t my intention.”

  “It’s not about me,” she says stoically. “Call me tomorrow?”

  “I will.”

  While Eric walks them to the stairs, I go into the kitchen and start doing the dishes. I’m putting plates in the dishwasher when he returns.

  “Let me do that, honey. You should go take a hot bath or something that’ll help you relax.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind doing it.”

  He puts his hands over mine. “Let me take care of you.” Giving a little tug, he convinces me to follow him as he walks backward toward the bathroom, where he draws a hot bath and fills it with my favorite bath beads that he bought for me after I mentioned my affection for the scent of lavender.

  One of the things I love about him is how he pays attention to the little things, such as my favorite scent. After testing the temperature of the water, he helps me out of my clothes and into the steaming water, which feels heavenly.

  When I’m settled, I reach for his hand. “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  “Sorry to cause so much drama tonight.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for. I totally understand how shocking that news would be for you to hear.”

  I give his hand a little tug. “You want to come in with me?”

  He kisses the back of my hand. “You enjoy the tub while I clean up.”

  “Okay.”

  I watch him as he walks out of the room, noticing the unusual hunch to his shoulders that lets me know I’m not the only one who was undone by the news of Al Khad’s capture.

  ERIC

  I leave the bathroom and go directly to the bar we set up earlier on a side table in the living room. I pour a drink. I’m not even sure what exactly I’m drinking, but what does it matter? Seeing Ava come apart earlier has left me rattled and off-kilter.

  My mind races with scenarios, each more dreadful than the next. What if John was involved in the raid and is now able to come home to resume the life he put on hold more than five years ago? What if he wants her back? Would she go? What if he was one of the people killed in the raid? Will she ever have a minute of true peace if she never knows what became of him?

  I can’t bear the speculating. I’ve been so incredibly happy with her these last few months. Even my parents’ marital meltdown barely touched me because I was so busy being blissfully involved with Ava. Now that I know what it feels like to be in love with her, I’ve had reason to wonder if I was ever really in love with Brittany. There’s no comparison between her and Ava, who is, quite simply, the best person I’ve ever known.

  She is sweet and kind and funny and smart and so, so sexy, she makes me crazy with wanting her. My mind drifts to earlier when she dropped to her knees in front of me… I moan at the thought of losing her now that I’ve found her. I somehow managed to survive what Brittany did, but if Ava leaves me…

  God, I don’t know what I’d ever do without her. And I’m disgusted with myself for making it about me, when it’s not about me. It’s about her and the men who risked everything to capture the son of a bitch who killed so many innocent people. It’s about the heartbroken families who’ll once again have scabs ripped off wounds when they’re forced to relive the horror. It’s about the families of the soldiers who were killed and the country that’ll be on edge waiting to see if the terrorists will retaliate against us for taking down their leader.

  It is most definitely not about me. And yet, I ache anyway, trying to imagine life without Ava. We need more time. We’ve only had a few months. He had years with her…

  “Stop. Just stop.” I down the last of my drink—vodka, which almost always gives me heartburn—and take the glass with me to the kitchen, where I pour Sauvignon Blanc for Ava and take it to her in the bathroom. She’s staring at the far wall as tears roll down her cheeks.

  Her heartache guts me. I’d give everything I have, everything I am to spare her this new pain.

  I don’t want to intrude on her privacy, so I retreat, taking the wine with me. With nervous energy bouncing around inside me, I get busy cleaning the kitchen. I need to do something to keep from losing my mind as the frenetic coverage continues unabated hours after the story first broke. I should shut it off, but I don’t. I keep it on and absorb each new detail of the raid as it’s reported.

  I’ve got the kitchen sparkling by the time Ava emerges from the bathroom, wearing a robe she brought here the third weekend we spent together. It’s been here ever since, along with clothes and shoes and makeup. I love having her stuff all over my place and knowing she�
�ll be there most nights when I get home from work, snuggled up on the sofa, watching the news.

  Once I teased her about her obsession with the news, but when her face fell with dismay, I realized my error. She’s obsessed with the news because she’s looking for any sign of him that she can find. I never teased her about the news again.

  She comes over to me, her face flushed from the heat of the bath and her hair damp at the ends.

  “Feel better?”

  “Much.” She puts her arms around me, and I do the same, holding her close to me where I want her to stay forever. I can’t tell her that. Not yet, and certainly not now when my motives would come into question. But it’s true. I want to marry her and have babies and a life. I want it all with her, and I’m terrified that this man from her past is going to come back and take her away from me.

  In that way, it’s very much about me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  MILES

  Skylar and I leave Eric’s building and start walking through Tribeca with no destination in mind. It’s a cool autumn Saturday night, and the streets are full of people out and about, smiling, laughing, on their way somewhere. I hear an occasional mention of Al Khad as people go by us. Someone tells us there’s a celebration happening in Times Square.

  His capture will be the story of the year and will reinvigorate coverage of the ship bombing right when life has begun to return to some semblance of normal—or the new normal I’ve found in the years since losing Emmie.

  Tonight was a good night. A great night. Until the past resurfaced to remind me there’s no escaping it.

  I should say something to Skylar, but I don’t know what. Our conversation flowed effortlessly for hours, and now I can’t think of a thing to say.

  “Look.” She points to the Empire State Building lit up in red, white and blue.

  The sight of that statement of support for our country, our military and the victims of the ship bombing moves me deeply.