Five Years Gone Page 17

  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.

  “It’s nice to know that people haven’t forgotten,” I say.

  “We will never forget.”

  I nod to acknowledge her. Emotions storming around inside me make it impossible to speak.

  Emmie would like Skylar. It’s an odd thought, but my thoughts are all over the place.

  We walk for a long time. Near Times Square, we hear the celebration under way and see the jumbotrons lit up with coverage of the raid that brought down Al Khad. I watch with a detached sense of awareness that people are happy with the news.

  Skylar’s hand on my arm directs me away from the fray.

  “I’ve waited such a long time for this,” I tell her. “I’m not sure what to do with the energy I’ve devoted to wanting revenge.”

  “You’ll redirect it into something productive after you’ve had a chance to absorb it.”

  “I suppose.”

  “That’s what you’ve done all along, right? You’ve focused on your business and your work and supporting the family group.”

  “I’ve tried.”

  “And succeeded, from what Ava told me about you.”

  “What else did she tell you?” I ask, amused by the thought of them talking about me before tonight.

  “That she admires you greatly, and we have a lot in common.”

  “I was sorry to hear about your sister.” We didn’t cover serious topics earlier, but now that the tone of the evening has shifted, it seems appropriate to mention it.

  “Thank you.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Teegan. She was five years younger than me, and I adored her. Losing her nearly broke me.”

  “I know that feeling.”

  She looks up at me. “I should be honest and tell you I read about you long before I knew Ava.”

  “Is that right?”

  Nodding, she says, “I read about you and Emerson and your admirable devotion to preserving her memory.”

  “She would’ve done the same if it’d been me on that ship.”

  “I’m so, so sorry you lost her the way you did.”

  “Thanks. I am, too. Whenever there’s a development in the story, it feels brand new again.”

  “I don’t know how you stand having to keep revisiting it.”

  “Sometimes I can’t stand it. I’m happy they got Al Khad, don’t get me wrong. But I didn’t want to think about this crap tonight. I wanted to focus on meeting someone who interests me for the first time since I lost Emmie.”

  She glances down, but not before I catch the rosy flush of her cheeks.

  “Was that too forward?”

  “Not at all. It was sweet.”

  “I’m extremely out of practice.”

  “You’re doing just fine.” She takes hold of my hand and looks up at me. “For what it’s worth, I’m interested, too. Just so you know.”

  “It’s worth a lot, and I’m glad to know it’s not just me.” We cover another block, and I’m immensely thankful for her company and her honesty. “You want to get a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  I look up to realize we’ve walked all the way to Murray Hill. We duck into an Irish pub and find seats along the wall. It’s crowded, so we’re forced to sit close to each other, not that I mind. After we order draught beers, I put my arm around her so she won’t be shoved off her stool by the rowdy young men next to her.

  “Not conducive to conversation,” I say, my lips close to her ear so she can hear me over the trio loudly playing Irish music.

  She smiles widely. “I’m not complaining.”

  At first I thought she resembled Emmie, but upon further scrutiny, I’ve decided that while their coloring is similar, that’s where the similarities end. I breathe in the distinctive scent of Skylar’s hair. This is as close as I’ve been to a woman since Emmie died. I hope she’d approve of me moving on after all this time.

  Actually, she’d be furious that it’s taken this long. My Emmie was nothing if not practical.

  I notice the TV in the bar is set to Al Khad coverage.

  Skylar sees me looking, places her hand on my face and turns it gently away from the television. “Look at me instead of that.”

  I gaze into her eyes, which are a golden shade of brown, and immediately feel a sense of relief from the madness swirling around the capture of Al Khad. The noise around us fades to a dull roar. I lean in closer to her, without consciously deciding to. My lips connect with hers, and her hand curls around my neck. For the longest time, we simply breathe the same air, existing in our own little bubble where nothing matters but the two of us.

  She breaks the kiss but keeps her hand on my neck.

  I note the rosy glow of her cheeks, the shine of her dark hair, the slick moisture on her bottom lip, and a surge of desire takes me by surprise. It’s been so long since I experienced anything resembling desire that I’ve almost forgotten how it feels.

  A second round is delivered, and we separate to take the beers from the waitress.

  I hand her a twenty and tell her to keep the change.

  Skylar and I watch the band, listen to the music and drink our beer, but all I can think about is kissing her again and how long I’ll have to wait until I can.

  When her mug is half empty, she puts it down. “You want to get out of here?”

  I place my glass next to hers. “Very much so.”

  She stands and extends a hand to me.

  I take it and let her lead me through the crowd. When we’re back on the street, the cool air is a welcome relief from the heat of the bar. I look at where we are, and a thought occurs to me. “Do you want to see my office?” It’s closer than either of our homes.

  “I’d love to.”

  I tuck her hand into mine, and we cover the six blocks and two avenues in silence. In the lobby of my office building, I show my ID to the security officer, who unlocks the elevator for us.

  “Thank you.”

  “No problem, Mr. Ferguson.”

  “If the night security people know your name, you probably work too much,” Sky says in a teasing tone when we’re in the elevator. We’re still holding hands.

  “I do work too much, but he probably knows me because of the publicity I’ve gotten since the lawsuit.”

  “I also work too much.”

  I like that she helps me keep the focus on the here and now. “I know why I do. What’s your excuse?”

  “Most of the time, it’s because I have nothing better to do.”

  I take a step closer to her until our bodies are nearly touching. “What if you had something better to do? Would you still work too much?”

  She looks up at me and shakes her head. “No way.”

  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be attracted to a woman. My body is like a leg that’s fallen asleep and is suddenly coming back to life. Pinpricks of sensation trickle down my back and up my legs. My heart beats a slow, steady cadence. I feel breathless and lightheaded. And I’m hard. For a while now, I’ve wondered if my manhood died along with Emmie. It’s a relief to know I’m still very much alive, even if I’ve had reason to believe that part of me died with her.

  The ding of the elevator arriving on our floor ends the charged moment. I lead her from the elevator to the glass doors with our logo on them.

  I unlock the door and disengage the alarm system. “This is where the magic happens.” I lead her from reception to my office in the far left-hand corner. “My partner Alex’s office is in there.” I gesture to the closed door to my right. “But he travels so much, we rarely see him. He handles business development while I oversee campaign implementation.”

&
nbsp; The glow of lights from adjacent buildings makes it so I don’t need to turn on lights for her to see my office. “Welcome to my home away from home.”

  “Where’s your real home?”

  “Chelsea.”

  “Not far from Tribeca.”

  “Nice how that works out, huh?”

  I want her to see the view, but she’s more interested in looking at me.

  “I usually hate setups,” she says.

  “Is that right?”

  Nodding, she says, “They’re always a disaster.”

  “Always?”

  “They were always a disaster.”

  “If you knew how many people have tried to fix me up since Emmie died, you’d laugh.”

  “People want to help.”

  “I know. I’ve been incredibly well supported by family and friends who helped me survive the darkest days of my life. I don’t know where I’d be today without them.”

  “And where are you today?”

  “I’m in the company of a beautiful, sexy woman who’s reminded me tonight that despite my painful past, I’m still very much alive.”

  “Just how alive are we talking?”

  I put my arms around her and bring her in tight against my erection.

  “Oh, well. Very much alive indeed.”

  I’ve smiled so much tonight that my face aches, a further reminder of how long it’s been since I had something to smile about.

  She puts her arms around my neck and brings me down to her for another chaste kiss that makes me want to beg for more. As if she can read my mind, her mouth opens and her tongue comes looking for mine. I almost faint from the surge of blood to my groin.

  My coat falls to the floor in a heap. She breaks the kiss to get rid of her coat, and it lands next to mine.

  “Sofa?” she asks.

  It takes a second for my blood-starved brain to catch up, but then I’m nodding and then we’re landing on the plush leather sofa in a tangle of arms and legs and more tongue-curling kisses. I realize she’s unbuttoned my shirt when I feel her hand on my chest.

  I tremble under her touch, and memories come flooding back, the last night with Emmie, before she left on the cruise with her parents and I went home to Minneapolis to be with my dad. I don’t want to think about that right now, but the memories are relentless.

  I pull back from Sky.

  “Miles? Are you okay?”

  “I…” I don’t know what to say to her. I want this. I want it badly, but I’m not sure if I’m ready for it.

  “Come here,” she says, holding out her arms to me.

  I rest my head on her chest, and she combs her fingers through my hair in a soothing caress that helps to calm me. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every minute of this evening—or I guess I should say last evening, since it’s after midnight.”

  “What’re you doing tonight?” I ask her.

  “I don’t have any plans.”

  “You do now—if you want to, that is.”

  “I want to.”

  Knowing there will be more helps me to relax into her embrace. Rather than fighting the memories that intruded on our good time, I wallow in them. I want to remember Emmie and my fierce love for her. I want to feel that way again.

  Maybe now that Al Khad has been captured, I can put my thirst for vengeance into something more productive, as Sky suggested.

  Maybe I can invest that energy into a new relationship.

  It’s probably time. Long past time, if I’m being honest, and if tonight is any indication of things to come, I’ve finally found someone worth the effort it’ll take to try again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  AVA

  I’m not sure what I expected to happen after they captured Al Khad, but for weeks afterward, I’ve existed in a bizarre state of limbo, waiting for something. But nothing happens, and my life goes on as it did before that night. The names and photographs of the servicemen killed in the raid were finally released, and none of them is John. After a week of nonstop, round-the-clock coverage of the raid and the capture of the most wanted man on earth, even the news channels had to move on when there was nothing more they could say about it for now.

  The United States government has refused to divulge where Al Khad is being held or what will happen next. Other than a ramped-up terror level and citizens on high alert against retaliatory attacks, nothing more is said about Al Khad.

  I talk about the state of limbo with Jessica in one of our regular sessions. “Every time the phone rings with a number I don’t recognize, my heart stops because I think, is this it? Will this be him calling me?”

  “So you still expect to hear from him?”

  “Intellectually, no. But my phone number hasn’t changed. It’s not outside the realm of possibility that he could call me.”

  “Do you hope for that, Ava? Do you want him to come back so you can be with him again?”

  “No, I don’t hope for that the way I once did. More than anything, I want answers. If he’s still alive, I want to know where he’s been for all this time, why he never told me he might have to disappear for years, or why he would get involved with me in the first place if that was possible.”

  I wipe tears that spill down my cheeks, infuriating me. I’ve cried more in the last few weeks than I have since I first told people about John. As much as I’d like to pretend otherwise, Al Khad’s capture has been a setback for me.

  Eric has noticed it, too, but he’s been nothing but supportive.

  “Those are perfectly reasonable questions,” Jessica says gently. She’s always so incredibly nice to me, even if she still says things that are hard to hear. “Anyone would want those answers. You’re being far too hard on yourself if you think you’re unreasonable for wanting to know those things.”

  “I’m worried about Eric.”

  “How so?”

  “This is really hard on him. He tries to hide it, but he’s afraid I’ll leave him the way his ex-fiancée did.”

  “You’ll never do to him what she did,” Jessica says forcefully. When I first told her what Brittany had done to Eric, she’d been initially shocked speechless. “I hear a lot of awful things in this room, but that one is on a level all its own. He has to know that’s not going to happen with you.”

  “I think he’s worried about other awful things happening.”

  “Let me ask you this… If John were to call you right now and beg for your forgiveness, what would you do?”

  “I… I don’t know. I’d be so glad to hear he was safe that I’d probably lose my shit.”

  “After that… What then? Would you want him back?”

  “I… No, I don’t think so. No. Definitely not.”

  Jessica raises a brow. “You don’t think so? Definitely not?”

  “It’s not going to happen, so what’s the point of looking at hypotheticals?”

  “What if it does happen, Ava? You should probably have a plan in place for how you would deal with it.”

  “It’s not going to happen. The only thing he could’ve been doing for this long was hunting down Al Khad. They got him, and still no John. There’s no point in playing the what-if game.”

  She gives me a skeptical look but thankfully doesn’t pursue that line of questioning any further. I leave, feeling out of sorts and angry, not at her but at John. What would it be like, I wonder, to live a life in which the specter of John didn’t hang over every minute? It’s been so long since I didn’t have to wonder where he is that the wondering has become like a part-time job. I’m so bloody sick of it and sick of him and sick of the entire situation. I’m tired of talking about it, which I’ve been doing a lot now that people know about him.

  Camille begged me to tell my parents about him, which I did with extreme reluctance over Thanksgiving. My parents surprised me with their empathetic reaction.

  “I knew something was wrong,” Mom said. “A mother knows these things.”

 
“I’m sorry you didn’t tell us sooner,” Dad said. “I wish we could’ve been more supportive.”

  “You didn’t think to ask him about what he did in the military?” Mom asked tentatively.

  “I was twenty-one years old and madly in love for the first time in my life. I didn’t know I should ask questions.”

  I assured them there wasn’t anything they or anyone else could’ve done to make this situation easier on me. But I went back to the city and back to Eric the next day with my emotions further shredded by the confession I made to my parents.

  After having a fun holiday with his father and siblings, Eric was in a great mood and helped to once again put me back together without even appearing to try. Now we’re staring down our first Christmas together and got a huge tree for the loft that we decorated together. We cohosted a Christmas party for our friends and family that was a huge success.

  Miles came with Sky, who couldn’t look at him without beaming with happiness. Everyone at the office is talking about the change in him, and only I know that he’s found someone special. I love knowing something none of my coworkers know about the boss we all adore.

  I asked him recently, over drinks after another long day on the publicity circuit, why he didn’t want anyone to know about his new relationship.

  “I’ve been such a public face of the family group,” he said, sounding pained. “So many of them lost parents and siblings and children. People who can never be replaced.”

  “Miles, no one who knows you will ever think that you’ve replaced Emmie. They know that’s not possible.”

  “Still, I’m happy again in a way that isn’t possible for so many of them.”

  “They wouldn’t begrudge you that, knowing how you’ve suffered right along with them.”

  “Maybe not, but I’d still rather wait to go public with Sky until after the buzz about the lawsuit dies down.”

  “That’s likely to take a while.”

  “We’re not in any rush.”

  I wonder if she feels the same way, or if she’s going along with what he wants.

  On Christmas Eve, we’re invited to a party at Rob and Camille’s apartment, and I’m thrilled that they also invited Miles and Sky, who’ve unofficially joined our city rat pack. We do something as a group at least once every weekend, which leaves Eric and me a night to spend alone together.