Imperfect Truth - Ava Harrison

Table of Contents The Begining Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen

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Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Acknowledgements About the Author Excerpts

Imperfect Truth Editor: Chelsea Kuhel (www.madisonseidler.com) Interior Design: Pink Ink Design Cover Design: By Hang Le

Art by docart Copyright @ 2015 by Ava Harrison All rights reserved Imperfect Truth No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of

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the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Dedicated to the ones who broke me. Without you, I would never have had the strength to rebuild.

I DON’T REMEMBER the last time I could truly say I loved my husband. To be completely frank, I believe it was before we even got married. You can hate me for this, but

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until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes you will never really know why I’ve done the things I’ve done. Often I stare at him from across the room and repulsion courses through my veins, a feeling of dread, that this is what my life has become. I wonder why I can't just leave him. Why I can't find the strength to love myself enough and simply be happy. Was my life pleasant before I met him? Was I content? What’s missing now? I’m pretty sure I’ve never truly been happy. I’ve always struggled to find where I belong, but how can I belong somewhere when I don’t fit anywhere? Sometimes I find myself picking a fight with him just so he will talk to me. All I want is a little attention from him. Good or bad. It’s sick. I know.

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But living in the land of indifference has changed me. I reside here day and night until the moment I snap from his indifference. Then I lash out, rebel against what has become this norm. Although it’s not right, the reprieve from the emptiness when we argue is welcome. If I left, would he follow me? Would he fight? Would he even notice?

A PART OF ME IS slowly dying. My heart is empty. The weight of the world perpetually sits on my narrow shoulders. Something is missing from my life. Now settled into my marriage with Alexandre, the loneliness has started to surface, and I feel desolate. Even his name on my tongue leaves a bitter taste. From the beginning I questioned the spelling since it’s pronounced Alexander. Who the hell would choose to spell it like

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that? Then I met his mother and it all became clear. He was born into this life by an elitist woman who thinks she’s important and wants everyone else to think so as well. The name is pretentious and downright obnoxious…just like her. She alone gave me plenty of reasons to run in the beginning, but I loved him. I believed he would be my happily ever after... Right before the wedding he had started to change, but I ignored it. The thought of reaching thirty and being an old spinster had scared the fuck out of me. I had imagined myself dying in my apartment alone with thirty cats eating my decaying body. At the time, getting married was definitely the better option. Boy, was I wrong. It hasn’t always been like this. We used to be happy. We used to laugh and joke with one another. At one point he was even my best friend. Right before we got engaged was the happiest time for Alexandre and I. We

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used to do so much together. In the summer we would spend our evenings exploring all the cultural activities New York had to offer us. We would pack a picnic basket every Monday night and go to Bryant Park to see what film was playing on the large screen for the summer film festival. As the classic film would play throughout the evening we would sip wine and eat fresh delicacies. On other evenings, we would follow the New York Philharmonic concert schedule to Central Park and enjoy the music under a canopy of stars. Alexandre proposed to me under those shimmery lights. We lay under the stars that peeked through the darkness blanketing us from above. Like diamonds tucked away the silver glistened with each pass of the wind. Alexandre pulled me into his arms as the sound of the symphony filtered through the air. He leaned back after a brief minute; he

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brushed my hair away and tenderly ran his fingers across my cheek, cupping my chin gently and lifting my eyes to meet his. “Every day I love you more and more. When I’m with you, I feel that anything is possible. I feel complete. Will you marry me?” My lips trembled as a tear slides down my cheek. “Yes.” Once upon a time we were so in love…until we weren't. I guess not every love story has a happy ending, after all. But how do I live like this? Shutting off the feelings deep inside me is the only option. I know that he will take care of me. He will love me the best he can and always provide for me. Ignorance is bliss…Supposedly. “How was work?” “Fine,” he murmurs.

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“Anything interesting happen today?” “No.” His one-word answer is like nails on a chalkboard. The tension that now fills the space between us palpable. As the sound from the TV drones on, I stare fixedly at him. He looks beautiful as his emerald green eyes focus blankly on the screen. His warm brown hair is tousled from a long day at work as he reclines lazily on the couch. Alexandre has always been a gorgeous specimen of a man, and when he used to smile even more so. If only his looks were the problem. Once so vibrant, now he is vacant…as lost as I am. I shuffle my body, reaching my hand over to pick up the magazine sitting on the side table. I place it gently on my lap and begin to thumb through it. My eyes skim over the pages, and all I see are hollow faces. There are no stories to me. It’s as though Très Chic Magazine is nothing but advertisements. In

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my haze all that I see are images, reflections from my own life. A photo shoot in Paris… Live mannequins standing in front of the Arc de Triumph three years ago for our engagement pictures. A pool party in LA… Reminds me of the false pretense of carefree life, a few months after being married. A garden party in London… The black hole of my detachment that formed during a work trip with Alexandre. The white noise around me continues as I flick the pages and get lost in recollection and disillusionment. Each picture floats by like fog…locations, frozen moments, painful memories. My movements stop short. The Fire and Ice Gala… All the faces look up at me from the pages; they are just emaciated models playing dress up. A still life in print, a

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dispassionate crowd frozen immortal. Image after image flash by of the patrons attending the soirée…there we are. In print. This picture is… A fairytale of beauty... A glimpse of our deception… A painful reminder of my solitude… A grim look into my isolation… A mockery of my own sham… The woman appears before me, and although I see her reflection every day in the mirror, the face staring back is familiar but false. I barely recognize the sight before me. My head swims in an array of white noise. The pretense of perfection living, breathing in these pictures. It’s all a lie. The truth is set behind her eyes, only hidden from the unobservant onlooker. I sit motionless, my eyes running over the images staring back at me. I see a woman exhausted by keeping up

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appearances. A horrible fake smile. Her eyes cast down rimmed red with sorrow. His tight smile so obviously blanketing his judgment. I can still hear his voice in my ear as we poised. “Can you at least pretend you actually want to be here?” The raw emotions from this shoot shakes me to the core. The void swirls around me. How does no one notice the pain lying behind her eyes, behind his? Sighing deeply, I pull myself out of my thoughts. Placing the magazine down, I reach for my laptop. With the need for a distraction from my dismal reality, I sign into Facebook. I look through my inbox quickly, but nothing interesting is happening, so I transfer over to my business page. Author drama. Typical. I run what most people would consider a rather successful book blog. With over 30,000 followers on my Facebook page, my

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reviews and following have made me rather sought after by authors to read and promote their books. I switch back over to my private page and notice a new friend request. There is no face, just a perfectly tailored Italian suit. The design and fit are impeccable. Wow… Ryder Matthews. I know the name instantly. He was notorious for evading the cameras. He’s also who many like to refer to as “His Highness” of erotic novels. He acquired the name because of his pretentious nature and his apparent taste for the finer things in life. His title is not far from the truth, since he’s a trust fund baby who’s often referenced in the society pages of the well-heeled New York. Ryder is best known for his recurring article in City Style Magazine. That’s his real claim to fame, but recently he self-published a dark erotic serial. The series is called Changing Faces, and each novella in the

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series is focused on the main character using his chameleon-like personality to ensnare a new prey—an unsuspecting woman who just can’t resist him. It was a different and unique approach. The first time I read his work, I was floored by how honest it felt, and I fell in love with his writing style. The way he wrote made him stand out as he weaved beautiful poetry within each novella. How can I say no to this request? Confirm. A message pops up. Oh God, not another generic author PM. When will authors start realizing that if you want a favor, you should at least try to go the extra mile? Like, I don’t know, maybe know my name? Ryder Matthews: Hello there! I was wondering if you could please post a teaser and buy link for my new book in the Changing Faces Series: Blinded Lies Buy Link: http://C&Bn.to/1zdrc

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Ava Readsalot: No problem. Ryder Matthews: Thanks for the add ;-) Ava Readsalot: My pleasure. Ryder Matthews: Honestly the pleasure is all mine. My cheeks flush crimson. I didn’t expect that kind of warm welcome. Ryder Matthews: If you ever want me to…takeover, I’m your guy! The sexual innuendo is not lost on me. Hell no, Ryder Matthews will never take over my page. Author takeovers are all the rage in the indie book industry these days. Basically, you let the author hijack your page so they can promote their work. I’m certainly not letting “His Highness” take over my blog. He is known to never hold back on any page takeover, posting every steamy sex scene

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from his series, including whips, floggers, everything. Anything was fair game, and the racier the better. I was truly petrified. I knew it would be great for the blog; I was just apprehensive of what he might post. Ava Readsalot: Aww, thank you so much. Right now I’m not doing takeovers, but I will definitely keep you in mind when I start :-) Ryder Matthews: No doubt. Well, again let me know if you need anything, and I do mean anything. Oh I’ll let him know if I need something…like his head buried deep between my legs. Where did that come from? I let out a chuckle as my face turns beet red once again. I glance over to see if Alexandre has noticed my little outburst. Nope.

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Nothing. Feeling flustered, I quickly sign off and shut down the computer. “I’m off to bed, Alex. You coming?” Nothing. No response. “Alexandre!” I shout over the TV, now turned to full blast on The World Of Poker Tournament. “What?” he replies, his voice exasperated as if I’m interrupting something important. “You can at least acknowledge that I’ve said something to you.” Alexandre finally looks over to me with a bored face. “I did. I shook my head no.” Quietly, I take a deep breath. I’m moments away from losing my shit, but like every well-groomed lady, I gather my composure. Biting the inside of my cheek, a practice I’ve become rather accustomed to, I nod and walk away. I can taste the sweet copper filling my mouth. As I make my way into the bedroom, I think back to the conversation I

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had with Ryder. A faint laugh creeps out of my mouth as I recall his flirtation. I climb into my bed that night with a smile on my face for the first time in months. For the first time in years.

THE NEXT MORNING I wake up feeling refreshed. I open my eyes, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. 7:30 am. Brilliant rays of the sun peek in through the drapes, and the morning’s beauty is breathtaking. I feel peaceful this Saturday, and the allure to begin my day beckons me. I really love living in Manhattan. Pulling the drapes back, I catch a glimpse of Gramercy Park. It’s a hidden secret nestled within the city. The London-style Park has impeccably groomed gardens that can only be accessed with golden keys. Only the elite are offered such pleasantries, a detail that my mother-

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in-law insisted on when purchasing our home. The street surrounding the wrought iron gates is eerily quiet. Only the soft hum of the morning traffic can be heard. After further inspection, the park is completely empty—not unusual for this time of day. Hauntingly beautiful. It brings a smile to my face as the idea of sitting peacefully by myself with a cup of coffee and my book invades my mind. Alexandre is still sound asleep. His rhythmic snore tells me he won’t be up for a while. Silently, I change into a pair of tightfitting yoga pants, a white T-shirt, and my black sequined Toms. Grabbing my cardigan off the back of the vanity chair, I make my way into the kitchen. Our apartment isn’t huge as it was formally a pied-à-terre for the original owner’s mistress. It is, however, exquisite and rather expensive. The location and park access

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inflates the prize considerably. Alexandre comes from old money; his family now owns and manages a hedge fund in the city. I’m a stay at home wife, whatever the fuck that means. Basically, in his family’s opinion, it would be an embarrassment if I worked a nine to five job. Blogging is allowed as it’s accomplished in the privacy of my own home under a pseudonym. I love and cherish every moment of my “little hobby.” I stand in front of the Keurig as the aroma of a perfectly brewed coffee infiltrates the air. A delicious and invigorating smell so savory my mouth waters. Filling my to-go mug and grabbing my Kindle, I exit my apartment. My feet slip into a brisk rhythm as I step onto the sidewalk that runs adjacent to my building. When the moment is right, I walk toward the park entrance with the gold tarnished key in my hand. I notice a young woman sitting on the stoop along the fence

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holding a coffee and book, as well. Nodding to her, a morning greeting to my fellow reader, I turn the key. Stepping into the park, I’m transported into a far-away place long since forgotten in time. Finding the perfect bench with an unobstructed view of the Edwin Booth statue, I bask in the splendor of the park. The lush surroundings are an ideal backdrop to my morning retreat. The only place I feel free is locked behind the gilded gates of Gramercy. After about thirty minutes of uninterrupted reading, my cell phone chimes, indicating a new message on Facebook. Closing my Kindle and placing it on the bench next to me, I pull out my phone sliding my finger across the screen for access. A window for Messenger is sitting there on the homepage. Ryder Matthews’s name is in bold black. Ryder Matthews: Hey there!

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My heart drums in my chest as nervous energy courses through my body. Ryder Matthews is messaging me again. What does he want? Ava Readsalot: Hey, Ryder, How are you today? Ava Readsalot: Something I can help you with? Oh shit, I sound like a bitch. Fuck. Is it too late to throw in a smiley face? Ryder Matthews: No, no I’m good. Just wanted to give you a heads up…My new book is up for presale. I’m going to send you the link. Ava Readsalot: Oh, yes, of course. It would be my pleasure to post. Thanks :-)

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There. Smiley face included. Oh my God, why am I acting like a high school girl? Why is this man I don’t know already giving me butterflies when we’ve hardly said two words to each other. Is it because he is famous? What is wrong with me? As I prepare my witty repartee, I’m lured out of my thoughts by the sound of my phone ringing. “Ava? Where are you?” He sounds irritated. “Good Morning to you too, Alexandre,” I roll my eyes. “We have brunch with my mother in a few minutes.” He informs me of this as if it is an everyday occurrence. It’s not, thankfully. “Really? Can I skip it today? I’m not dressed.” Please, God, say yes. “No, you can’t skip it. My mother is expecting you. I suggest you come home and make yourself presentable.”

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His words cut into me, etching away at my already low self-esteem. My hands close into fists as I try to shake off the dejection I feel. I collect my belongings and hurry home. As I open the door, my body shivers at the shrill sound of her voice. She had beaten me home. “Well, look who decided to join us,” she says to Alexandre as she glances down at her watch and shakes her head. “A little tardy, and what is she wearing?” Alexandre rises from the couch and walks over to me. “Would you please freshen up?” he says in a hushed tone under his breath. With haste, I make my way into my bathroom, and within minutes my clothes are off and replaced with my classic black pants, a crisp white button down, and a face void of emotion. Sweeping my long dark locks out of my face, the transformation is complete. I’ve become the perfect Stepford wife.

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The door to the bedroom creaks as I emerge into the hallway. Taking brisk steps, I find them sitting on the pristine white couch in the living room. Lenore sits aloof, a perfect ice sculpture in her iconic strawberry tweed Chanel suit. Her long ebony hair is blown straight, and there is no emotion on her botoxed face. Her thin lips purse as she takes notice of me entering the room. As she turns her long and delicate frame to Alexandre, a memory flashes through my mind from a few years back, right after we announced our engagement. We sat at the rickety wooden café table at Bagatelle, a French Brasserie in the Meat Packing District. The air was crisp and refreshing, as the retracting glass walls were pulled open to enjoy the perfect fall day. Lenore sat across from me, pushing the food around her plate to keep up the pretense that she was actually consuming it. I had

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invited her to lunch to try to get to know her better, but the silence between us was deafening. Awkward and uncomfortable, I finally mustered up the courage to speak. “Lenore, I asked you to join me because I wanted to know if you would like to help me plan the wedding, I think it would be a great chance for us to get to know each other,” I said with the utmost sincerity in the world. With my father out of my life and my mother sick, I really wanted and needed a mother figure to help me plan. She raised her eyes to meet mine, and I watched as her pupils narrowed into contempt. “Oh, Ava, That implies I want to get to know you.” My hopes were crushed with a simple sentence. “Hi, Lenore.” “Ava.” She barely looks at me as she acknowledges my presence in the room.

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“So nice to have you here. Will you be spending the day with us after brunch?” “No.” She walks past me to the kitchen. I’ve been dismissed. Alexandre joins her in the kitchen, and I follow suit. The table is prepared with a catered brunch that Lenore obviously ordered. I take notice of the piping hot scones, Devonshire cream, A Quiche Lorraine, and many delectable preserves. Turning to Lenore, I gesture to the coffee and tea server sitting on the Calacatta marble kitchen island. “May I pour you a coffee? Maybe a tea?” “No.” She turns back to continue her conversation with Alexandre without giving me a second glance. Words flow freely between them. But for me, conversing with her is like pulling teeth. I walk to the coffee pot and pour myself a cup. Sitting back down, I become lost in my thoughts. My mind searches for when the

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changes started to occur in my relationship with Alexandre. Although not one moment can be pinpointed, my belief is that my relationship with Lenore, or lack thereof, was the start of the downward spiral. Most of our fights over the years stemmed from his mother’s behavior towards me. A vision from right after Alexandre and I were married becomes vivid in my mind. The first time Lenore had shown up unannounced at our apartment on a Sunday plays out before me. Lenore appears before me in all her superiority, her shoulders pulled back tight with the poise of a ballet dancer. Her tall, lithe body standing erect, She looks down at me. “Your behavior, Ava. I saw you out to dinner last night with your friend. You are a member of this family now. Some decorum, please. It’s not appropriate to laugh and act like that in public.” Lenore turns and walks to the other side of the room.

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I turn to Alexandre, catching his eyes briefly and silently pleading with him to speak up in my defense. Under my breath I speak in a hushed whisper, “Alexandre, she can’t just show up at our apartment and tell me how I should act. I feel as though I’m locked in a cage, and your family has thrown away the key. Please, say something to her.” He touches my hair ever so gently. I lean into his body seeking his warmth. Lenore turns back to us and unease descends upon me. Engulfing me. Silence falls upon us like a dark haze, suffocating me the closer she gets. Once upon us, Alexandre says nothing just steps away. My body becomes cold. A part of me snaps and breaks. I. Am. Hollow.

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A throat clearing awakens me from my daydream, and I notice Lenore stand to depart. “This was lovely, Alexandre, I shall see you next week. Ava…maybe next time you’ll be courteous enough to prepare for my visit.” My mouth hangs open as she walks out of the room. As if on cue, Delia, Lenore’s maid, steps into the kitchen with a stern look on her round, sun-kissed face as she takes me in. Her hands are tucked into the white apron on her black uniform. She shakes her head in judgment, reminding me how my friend Jules jokes that Delia is the spy hired by Lenore to make sure I’m on the straight and narrow. As Delia clears the table, I excuse myself from Alexandre and make my way to the den. Grabbing my laptop, I power it up and sign on to Facebook. I click on my blog page and post the buy link for Changing Faces,

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making sure to tag him in the post, hoping he will see. Ryder Matthews is starting to become my new guilty pleasure. I head back to his profile to “stalk” him a little. He doesn’t supply much information. Closing the icon, I click on his pictures. There are a ton of pictures of his book covers and teasers, but only a few of him. Well, none of him, per se, just of his perfectly tailored suits. I secretly decide that all male authors are really females trying to cash in on female adoration to increase sales. Not Ryder, of course, but all the rest. A window pops up on my screen. Ryder Matthews: Hey, you posted my link. Much appreciated. Ava Readsalot: You’re welcome. I stare at the computer, trying to formulate what to type next. I don’t want to stop talking to him. Even though we had only

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messaged a few brief times, I’m completely intrigued by him. Ava Readsalot: I started reading Changing Faces: Blinded Lies today ;-) Ryder Matthews: and? Ava Readsalot: LOL Ryder Matthews: What does that mean? Ava Readsalot: It means Laugh Out Loud. Ryder Matthews: I know what LOL means, smart ass! Ava Readsalot: What does what mean? Ryder Matthews: Wow are you going to make me explain the question? Ava Readsalot: Yeah, I think I just might. Ryder Matthews: Ava, how do you like my book? Ava Readsalot: It really is a completely unique concept.

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Ava Readsalot: The main character is interesting, dark. He is so devious and perverse. Where did you come up with the idea? Ryder Matthews: Art imitates life sometimes ;-) Ava Readsalot: I highly doubt that. No one can be that wicked. Ryder Matthews: You never know… Ava Readsalot: Well anyway, so far I’m loving it ;-) Ryder Matthews: Good I’m glad. A strange feeling rushes through me. I know it sounds crazy, but knowing that he is happy makes me happy. Ava Readsalot: What else makes you “glad” Ryder Matthews: Why? You taking notes? Ava Readsalot: Maybe.

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I start to type then stop…thinking of what I should write next. My hands on the keyboard, I finally decide to type exactly what I’m feeling. Ava Readsalot: For some reason knowing something makes you happy makes me happy. Ryder Matthews: Well I’m ecstatic to hear that. Ava Readsalot: LMAO you’re silly. We discuss his book some more, and within minutes, I’m hysterically laughing. It feels so good to laugh. After such a stressful beginning to my day, I feel revived by the reprieve Ryder has given me. Ava Readsalot: I’m hysterically laughing right now. Thanks I needed this. Ryder Matthews: ? Ava Readsalot: Rough day!

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Ryder Matthews: Want to talk about it? For the next twenty minutes, I tell him all about the “Ice Queen.” His answers are concise, constructive, and supportive. They inspire me. He tells me her self-importance is a ruse to mask her lack of self-esteem, and that her obvious disdain for me is caused by her jealousy about my importance to her son. Ryder Matthews: Don't conform…be unique, speak truth. Don’t let them force the real you to hide. From what I’ve come to know in this short time, any change on your part would be an utter travesty. You are perfect Ava. He’s a fool if he doesn’t see what he has in front of him. When I finally sign off… I feel alive.

I LEFT HOME IN a hurry this morning to join my friend Jules in Soho. Alexandre was on the couch with the television clicker in hand when I left him. Typical. Jules and I went to college together. She grew up in the city, and I was from Westchester. I sought her out in the small southern school we attended. A mutual friend gave me Jules’s name and phone number, telling me we would get along. I remember the day I called as if it was yesterday…

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“Hi. Is Jules there?” “Speaking.” “Hi, umm…this is Ava. I got your phone number from Marci Sager. I know Marci from high school. Well, she told me there was a girl from the city that she knew from sleep away camp going to college with me…” “What?” “She told me…” “Yeah, I get what she told you…so you just called me?” “Yes, well she gave me your number.” “Wow, that’s just scary.” “So does that mean, you don’t want to come out for drinks?” “Seriously?” “Yes.” “So you just call random strangers to meet for drinks?” “Well, you’re from NY.” “I could be a serial killer.”

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“Well, are you?” “No.” “Okay, so you want to come for drinks?” She didn’t speak for a second, so I peeked at the phone to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Hello?” “Where are you going?” “I met a few guys today on campus. They told me to meet them at Deuce’s.” “Were they hot?” “Smoking.” “Sure, why the fuck not.” I knew that very second that we would be lifelong friends. Throughout the years in college I clung to her jaded New York personality. She made feel me closer to home. With a shake of my head, I right myself from my memories and take in my surroundings. I notice a hot pink awning with a whimsical display of dresses and accessories in the window. Grabbing Jules arm lightly, I motion to the boutique. She enters the store,

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and as I’m about to follow I notice a group of women—my age, beautiful, thin, and looking as if they don’t have a care in the world. They speak to each other with animation, carefree and full of ease. Their happiness is almost my undoing. When did I become so jaded that the happiness of others could break me down? I lift my chin toward the sky, my eyes fluttering from the sun. I need a moment. I wish I could be as carefree as them. I inhale a calming breath, and as I stand here, the soft breeze tickling my arm, I realize that this is exactly what I need: a me day. I deserve one. I enter the store and see Jules standing by a clothing rack. She looks up at me with a smile…beaming brightly until she catches the look on my face. She furrows her brows, giving her face the appearance of a tiny frown line. Even with the wrinkle, Jules is beautiful. She has shoulder-length brown hair that cascades down the nape of her neck with

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luscious waves, and the brownest eyes I have ever seen, eyes that could never lie, and right now they are looking into my soul. “Okay, spill,” she blurts out while searching the size on a pair of tiny sequin shorts. I shoot her a questioning look. “Av, you know what I’m talking about. What’s going on with you and Alexandre?” I hate keeping things from Jules, but as much as I love her, she just doesn’t understand the dynamic of my relationship with Alexandre. She doesn’t understand why I stay with a man who won’t stand up for me, who would allow his family to treat me repugnantly. “You know, the usual,” I say. “So basically, you speak and he doesn’t listen?” “Yup, same old, same old.” “I mean seriously, dude. Aren’t you sick of it?” she asks, throwing her arms in the air dramatically.

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I burst out laughing. “Yeah, of course, but what am I supposed to do?” Shrugging my shoulders, I turn my attention back to the rack in front of me. “Ava …You know what? I got nothing.” She frowns. “Men are so stupid. Don’t they know that if they break you, there’s always someone there to pick up the pieces?” As if fate intervenes, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I open Facebook Messenger. Ryder Matthews: Damn Amazon! Ava Readsalot: What’s wrong??? Ryder Matthews: The usual, my preorder. Ava Readsalot: Anything I can do to help? As I type, I pick up a paisley printed prairie skirt and lift it up to show Jules. She shakes her head no and rolls her eyes. Guess not. My phone vibrates again in my hand.

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Ryder Matthews: Post my link. Ava Readsalot: That all? Ryder Matthews: I can think of a few other things… Ryder Matthews: ;) I laugh to myself at his attempt to flirt. Why the heck not? Crossing the line sounds fun. Here goes nothing. Ava Readsalot: Oh really… Ryder Matthews: Yep. Ava Readsalot: Care to elaborate? Ryder Matthews: Nope. Ava Readsalot: But now I’m intrigued. Ryder Matthews: You know what they say… Ava Readsalot: Hmm…What do they say? Ryder Matthews: Curiosity killed the cat.

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Ava Readsalot: Oh, are we talking about pussies now? Ryder Matthews: SMH. You, Ava, are too much. Ava Readsalot: Who me? What did I say ;-) Ryder Matthews: You are trouble. Cute trouble, but still trouble. Lost in thought and that delicious interaction that just took place, I don’t notice that Jules is staring at me. “What are you laughing at over there?” “What? Oh nothing, just a funny post on Facebook.” “Must have been really funny. You’re beaming.” “It was. Give me a sec.” I hold up one finger as I stare at my phone, trying to decide my next quip. As I start to type, the window indicates that Ryder is responding first.

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Ryder Matthews: What are you doing today? Ava Readsalot: Just shopping, maybe trying on dresses. Ryder Matthews: Really?? Ryder Matthews: I wouldn’t mind spending my day doing that. Ava Readsalot: You want to try on dresses? LOL. Ava Readsalot: Is wearing women’s dresses your thing? Ryder Matthews: Wow! Ryder Matthews: No…I want to watch YOU try on dresses. I start to type back, then erase, then I find myself staring blankly at my phone. A witty comeback is necessary, but my brain has been rendered useless. I settle for a simple… Ava Readsalot: Oh.

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Ava Readsalot: Why in the world would you want to waste your day doing that? Ryder Matthews: Anytime with you would not be wasted. It’s a shame you think otherwise. Ava Readsalot: This is strange don’t you think? Ryder Matthews: What exactly? Ava Readsalot: You. Me. Us talking…it’s strange. Ryder Matthews: You’re going to have to elaborate here babe. I shudder at the moniker. Something about him calling me babe has me flustered in the best way possible. Ava Readsalot: I just mean we’ve never talked before and now we are talking all the time.

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Ryder Matthews: Is that not ok with you? I don’t want you to feel awkward about talking to a colleague. Ava Readsalot: You’re not a colleague. Lol Ryder Matthews: Well we work within the same industry and networking is a good thing, right? Ava Readsalot: So this is networking? Ryder Matthews: This is definitely networking…but it’s also fun;) Ava Readsalot: I think you’re the one who’s trouble Mr. Matthews. Ryder Matthews: I like that… Ava Readsalot:??? Ryder Matthews: You calling me Mr. Matthews. Ava Readsalot: Lol would you prefer I call you Mr. Matthews? I kind of thought we were past the formal stage. Ryder Matthews: We are.

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Ava Readsalot: Well then wouldn’t it be strange if I started calling you Mr. Matthews…lol Ryder Matthews: Ok, you’re right. In public you call me Ryder. In private I’m Mr. Matthews;) Ava Readsalot: Good God, you are such a male. Lol Ryder Matthews: You know it. I’m all male babe;) I went from wanting to avoid all interaction with Ryder to anticipating and needing these exchanges between us. He just gets me somehow. He makes me feel alive. Every time we speak I feel like he unlocks another piece of me that I’ve hidden away for years. It’s scary yet such a rush. I feel like I have a friend in Ryder. A friend I desperately need. Sliding my phone into my pocket, I turn my attention back to the store. Damn, this store is amazing. They have the coolest

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accessories I have ever seen. I pick up a metal studded clutch and realize the sales woman is already beside me, obviously chomping at the bit to make a sale. “This bag is kind of fabulous. Jules, check this out.” Jules looks over at me and flashes her award-winning smile. When Jules smiles, all is right in the world. “I’ll take the bag,” I affirm, turning to the sales lady. As I hand her the clutch, she beams, and I can see the excitement radiating off her. I bet I’m her first client of the day. “That will be $550.” Damn, this is turning out to be an expensive Sunday afternoon. As expensive as the bag is, I decide I totally deserve it. I pull out my Amex and commit to the purchase.

I ARRIVE BACK at my apartment a little after 1 pm. I find Alexandre where I left him

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earlier today. Still nestled in the couch. The Pacers game is on, and the sound is blaring from the TV as he cheers and shouts at each pass and dunk. I move into our bedroom. I can’t stand to be in the same room as Alexandre. How can he not see what this relationship is doing to me? I submerge myself in our pristine bed. White linens, white duvet, white pillows. The bed is perfect, no room for imperfections. It’s all a fucking lie. I feel the urge to unravel it, to tear away the sheets from their confines. As my anger rises, I pull, the bed sheet unraveling like thread pulling at my soul…unraveling me to break free. A lone tear trickles down my cheek, and a vast set of emotions discharges through me, splitting me in two. Thoughts of new beginnings, of starting over, penetrate my mind. But as quickly as the thoughts grow, I push them back. As I steady my

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breath, my eyes grow heavy, and I decide to close them for just a minute. I’m awakened by Alexandre’s voice screaming through the apartment. “Ava! What about dinner? Ava, did you hear me?” he asks as he strolls into the room. “Sorry, Alex, I must have fallen asleep.” “Well, what do you want for dinner?” “Honestly, I don’t care.” “I was thinking of ordering pizza and watching basketball.” “Okay,” I say, my voice relieved that I wouldn’t have to keep up the charade through dinner. I pick up my Kindle. In this state of mind, eating is overrated.

THE TENSION IS growing around me. As the days pass, our apartment becomes a ticking time bomb. Each comment misunderstood, each glance misconstrued. I’m in a constant state of apprehension. I walk on

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eggshells within the confines of my impeccable apartment. The house of glass I live in is starting to crack and falter. I fear the aftermath when it finally comes crashing down. The perfect portrayal of our unbalanced life comes to the forefront as we sit down to dinner that Thursday evening. The table is set to a degree that even an etiquette expert would be proud of. The flatware is exactly where it should reside at the outside and then working inward as the meal courses progress. Our crystal glass stemware is above and to the right of the dinner plate; the bread and butter plate sits above it and to the left. Perfection. The first time I had my mother in law over for dinner was a disaster. The flatware was in the incorrect order and the bread plate was certainly not in the right place. The look of disgust on her face…let’s just say, I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. I can still hear her voice in my ear as she spoke to

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her husband in a not so hushed tone about me… “How can you teach manners to a woman who obviously has no class, Maxwell? Can you imagine if the Stuarts had accompanied us as planned? What an embarrassment that would have been.” The aromatic smell of the Fennel-Rubbed Pork Tenderloin and Escarole and Apple Salad we had catered in permeates through the thick air in our formal dining room. I unfold my napkin and place it on my lap. Once finished with the first course, I turn to Alexandre to tell him the news I received. Earlier that day, I got an email from Très Chic Magazine. They wanted to interview me; they wanted to ask me questions pertaining to the types of books the affluent housewife would read. It was an honor to be chosen, and I was delirious with delight.

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“Alexandre, I have some amazing news,” I announce, my voice rising with excitement. “Are you listening to me?” I exclaim. "Hold on,” he answers as he continues to text. “Alex, I really want to tell you something. It’s important.” “Now really isn’t a good time.” “Oh for crying out loud, is it ever a good time?” I breathe in deeply as I feel my dejected thoughts turn to anger. “Who are you even texting?” “It’s nothing,” he mumbles. “Well, if it’s nothing, why can’t you answer me?” “God Ava, it’s work. Want to see it?” He angrily flails the phone in my face. “Happy? Okay, what? What is so important that you had to interrupt me?” “Nothing, Alexandre, forget it.” My vision blurs as tears form in my eyes.

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I concentrate on cutting my meat with precision as we sit in complete silence. The only sound comes from the gears turning, the pendulum swinging, and the faint ticktock of the grandfather clock that stands at a towering height in the corner. As soon as it is feasible, I place my napkin on the left of my plate, signaling the meal is over. Excusing myself from the dinner table, I decide that the fresh air might do me some good, so I decide to take a walk. The night is vibrating with motion. Lights dance in the distance as the cabs rush by. The sound of laughter permeates the air as young professionals gather outside the local drinking hole to enjoy an after work libation. I smile, remembering what it was like looking at the city with innocence. Their eyes dance with wonder as they experience the cities “firsts,” the right of passage of becoming a true New Yorker…

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Get your first underpaid job then lose your first underpaid job. Rent a ridiculously overpriced apartment then be forced to put up a fake wall to rent out a ‘room’ to afford said apartment. Eat pizza at 2:30 in the morning. Fall in love, fall out of love. Fall. Stand. Repeat… New York City has always been a salve for my soul. As I embrace the strength of the city, I feel empowered. Reaching into my classic, quilted, aubergine Chanel purse, I pull out my phone and message the one person I think might appreciate my news. Ava Readsalot: You will never guess what happened today!!!!! Ryder Matthews: No probably not. Ava Readsalot: LOL

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Ava Readsalot: Ok seriously though… Très Chic interviewed me…CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!! Ryder Matthews: Wow, what an honor! Ava Readsalot: I know RIGHT???!!!! Ryder Matthews: What did they want to know? Ava Readsalot: The types of books affluent housewives read!! Holding my phone in my hand, I walk towards a beautiful brownstone. I decide to take a seat on the limestone stoop so I can concentrate on the conversation. Ryder Matthews: Wow, and they asked you? Wow! Ava Readsalot: I know right! Wait…why do you seem so shocked? Lol Ryder Matthews: Like I said that’s a huge honor. Not that I don’t think you

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deserve it you definitely do. Sorry if that made me sound like an ass. I didn’t mean anything by it. Ryder Matthews: So what did you tell them? You mention me? ;-) Ava Readsalot: I can’t tell you that lol Ryder Matthews: Why? Ava Readsalot: Cause then I would have to kill you ;-) Ryder Matthews: LOL, anyone ever tell you you’re cute? Ava Readsalot: Yep, a few times. Ryder Matthews: I love how modest you are LOL Ava Readsalot: Seriously, though. They wanted the types of books I read and to talk about what I thought readers gained from the books. I didn’t give them specifics. Ryder Matthews: Well, fine, don’t mention me. I’m still so proud of you. Ava Readsalot: Thank you, Ryder! Thank you!!!!

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I stand up and actually jump from the stoop to the sidewalk. The excitement emanates off of my body in waves. I swipe my finger across the screen as I begin to walk again. Ava Readsalot: I’m jumping up and down right now telling you this. Ryder Matthews: I love hearing you this excited. Ava Readsalot: Happy to oblige. Ryder Matthews: You’re really selfless. Ava Readsalot: Yep! That’s me selfless. I continue to walk, looping back to my apartment. Ava Readsalot: Okay, I’m going to head back home. Ryder Matthews: You’re not home? Ava Readsalot: No, I had to get air.

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Ryder Matthews: That bad? Ava Readsalot: Worse. Ryder Matthews: You are drowning in your own sorrows, Ava. Let me help you swim. Your husband might not see you but I do and I promise you… You. Will. Be. Fine. Ava Readsalot: You make me think so. Ryder Matthews: Good. Ava Readsalot: Okay, I’m going to concentrate on walking back. Ryder Matthews: Good night, Ava. Ava Readsalot: Nite, Ryder xoxo Hours later I lie in bed tossing and turning. I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel locked in a cage where I can never be myself. I glance over to Alexandre, and I listen closely. I can hear the light sounds of his breathing... In, out. In, out.

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I’m not sure if the man lying next to me still loves me. If he even likes me.

A FEW WEEKS HAVE passed since Ryder and I started talking online regularly. I keep myself busy. I fill my days with meaningless tasks, and I read incessantly. But most of all, I look forward to my conversations with him. Ryder has become a dear friend of mine; I divulge so much it’s scary. We talk of my marriage. He knows of Alexandre’s indifference, always listening and giving me advice. We laugh about Jules. He makes fun of me… We are playful together and it’s refreshing. Opening myself up like this is uncommon for

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me. I have always feared rejection and disapproval. I have always guarded my words. I don’t fear this with Ryder. I feel safe with him. Today starts off like every other day since our “friendship” has started. I lay in bed pretending to be asleep as Alexandre prepares to leave. I watch from squinted eyes as Alexandre gets ready for work and count the moments until I can send my first hello of the day. The moment I hear the familiar sound of the door closing behind him my lids pop open. I’m wide-eyed with anticipation, a nervous energy courses through my veins. Anxiety and excitement set in as I throw my robe on and pad down the hall to grab my laptop in the kitchen. As I wait for the screen to load, I place a cup into the Keurig and sign in. Opening the window to our previous conversation, I begin to type. Ava Readsalot: Morning!!

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Ryder Matthews: What are you doing? Ava Readsalot: Drinking coffee. Ryder Matthews: Send me a picture. Ava Readsalot: Why? Ryder Matthews: I want to see a picture of you. Ava Readsalot: Go look at my profile pictures… Ryder Matthews: That’s so different, everyone sees those pictures. I want to see a real picture of you. I want to see a picture of what you are doing now. Ava Readsalot: Like of me drinking coffee??? Ryder Matthews: Yes Ava, send me a picture of you drinking coffee. Ava Readsalot: I’m not even wearing makeup! NO WAY! Ryder Matthews: Just send the damn picture. Ava Readsalot: How about if you send one too?

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Ryder Matthews: Can’t right now. Just use your imagination… devastatingly handsome. Ava Readsalot: Haha…Okay fine. Don’t say you haven't been warned. I grab my cell from the kitchen counter and cock my head to the side. Before secondguessing myself, I snap the picture and hit send. I see him typing and fear overcomes me. My pulse picks up, and I’m taken aback by my body’s response. I know this moment will change everything. Sending pictures to a man that isn’t my husband isn’t right. It’s inappropriate. This makes everything real. I know in the depths of my soul that nothing will ever be the same from this moment on. Ryder Matthews: Wow, just wow!

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Ryder Matthews: You, Ava, are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Speechless. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I contemplate how to respond. How does a married women respond to that? Breathing heavily, I respond in my normal playful banter. Ava Readsalot: LMAO Not really. Ryder Matthews: You’re gorgeous. I had never felt particularly special before this moment. I often felt rather ordinary, but having Ryder’s words filter through my brain, I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life. This relationship between Ryder and I is on precarious ground, although we were just friends, the lines have blurred more and more every day. As I sit at the marble kitchen counter and bask in his words, I decide to turn the conversation around…maybe to

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books. I had just read the latest novel from a male author named Marcus Wright. It is not a romance, but dark and gritty. It tells the story of a woman who is kidnapped and later falls in love with her captor. Her feelings are never reciprocated, and he systematically breaks her down and tortures her. Ryder and I often bantered about books and what we liked, but today is different. As I sit in front of my computer, coffee in hand, and feeling rather bold, I send him another message. Ava Readsalot: What is wrong with me? Ryder Matthews: Elaborate…it could be one of many things. Ava Readsalot: hardy har har! Ava Readsalot: No but seriously…forget it. Ryder Matthews: You can tell me, Let your guard down, I’ll keep your secret safe.

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Ava Readsalot: Fine. I just read a book about a woman being tortured and raped and I swear…Okay, no judgment…PROMISE???? Ryder Matthews: Of course not. Ava Readsalot: I’ve never been more turned on in my life. I mean like ever! Ryder Matthews: That’s because you want to give up control. Ava Readsalot: What?? Ryder Matthews: Control, you know, to exercise restraint or direction over; dominate; command. I look at my phone in disbelief. How the hell am I supposed to respond? Ava Readsalot: Omg!!! Did you just write the definition of control???? You said you wouldn’t make fun of me :-( Ryder Matthews: LOL I’m not making fun of you.

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Ryder Matthews: I’m just telling you the truth. Ava Readsalot: Wow, Ryder, I think you saved me. Me and my “control issues” Lol Ryder Matthews: Laugh all you want, baby, but that’s why you’re not satisfied. Ava Readsalot: Baby? I decide to call him out. Not because I want him to stop. God, I hope he doesn’t stop. It’s become my new favorite word. Ryder: Yes. Do you have a problem with that…baby? Ava Readsalot: I guess not. So what do you mean not satisfied? Like in the bedroom or like in life? Ava Readsalot: What makes you think I’m not satisfied? Ryder Matthews: Well, are you? Are you satisfied in “life”?

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Ava Readsalot: Well, no, but that doesn’t mean anything. Ryder Matthews: Sure. Ava Readsalot: But that doesn’t make any sense…I AM controlled in life…by my inlaws and I hate it… Ryder Matthews: That’s different, Ava. You want to give up control to someone you feel will protect you…do you feel Alexandre does that? I don’t answer, I just keep typing, erasing, and retyping. He must sense my trepidation, because he throws me a life raft. Ryder Matthews: I need some help. Ryder Matthews: I need an expert opinion. You’re the girl recently interviewed by a fancy magazine, right? Ava Readsalot: Yep, that’s me…I’m kind of a big deal.

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Ryder Matthews: How can I get sales to pick up? Ava Readsalot: Hmmm, show your face on Facebook? Ryder Matthews: My books sell at their own merit. I don’t need to show my face. Plus, I want to keep my private life separate. NO ONE knows what I look like in the book world, and that’s the way I want it. That was a bit curt. I wrack my brain to find another suggestion, but before I can respond I notice he is typing, so I wait for him to send the message. Ryder Matthews: I need the big blogs to promote me Ava Readsalot: Set up a blog hop. You can ask three blogs to participate. You can provide each blog with an exclusive to post on their website…maybe an interview with your character or you and then you can have

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different giveaways for each of the blogs involved. Every day the reader will “hop” to another location. Ryder Matthews: Now that is a good idea. Ryder Matthews: You’re a genius! I smile… I laugh… Ava Readsalot: LOL. Yup…me again, I’m a genius…I’m pretty special ;-) Ryder Matthews: That you are! So genius. How can you help me? Which blogs should I ask to participate? I wish I could say that the underlying need for approval isn’t an issue, but the idea of him ‘needing’ me consumes me. Ryder knocks down my defenses. He makes me feel relevant and important. The feeling of having to be perfect all the time is exhausting;

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not being good enough is exhausting. He doesn’t make me feel this way. To him my suggestions matter, moments like this give me the reprieve I need. Ava Readsalot: I’ll help you. My blog will do it. I’ll also contact two more blogs for you. ;-) Ryder Matthews: Good girl. His words resonate within me. The elation I feel from receiving his praise… I’m a foregone conclusion.

One week later… IT’S FRIDAY, AND Alexandre has decided to not go into the office today. Working for his family’s hedge fund allows him the luxury of

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working from home. I look over at my friend list and surprisingly enough Ryder isn’t online. Disappointment hits me as I realize I will not get my morning fix. He is my new addiction. The feeling of comfort I get from him is unlike any I’ve gotten in the past. He listens and understands me, always making me feel like I matter. His friendship is slowly bringing me back to life. I start to type a blog post for a new release when a message from Abby, a fellow blogger and close friend, appears on the screen. Abby Hale: OMG. So you know that author Ryder Matthews????? Ava Readsalot: Yup. Abby Hale: So check this…I mean it might just be a rumor…

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I feel my pulse pick up as I wait for her to type. My eyes are locked on the screen in anticipation. Abby Hale: I heard he’s sleeping with his personal assistant. I stare in disbelief at the computer screen. I don’t even know what to type back. Ava Readsalot: What??? Abby Hale: Yep. Can you freaking believe it? His PA! Mr. Pretentious is apparently banging the help. LOL Abby Hale: Omg and she’s supposed to be GORGEOUS. Like supermodel hot. Some blond bombshell. I’m frozen in place. My fingers can’t type, and my brain has stopped. Abby Hale: You there???

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Ava Readsalot: Wow! Seriously? That is the best I could come with at a time like this. If it were possible, I’d roll my own eyes at me. Abby Hale: That’s what I heard. Oh you know what else I heard??? YOU WILL DIE!!!!! Abby Hale: …Ready?? Wait for it… She doesn't wait for me to answer just continues to type as I feel like my world is coming to an end. I’m perplexed. Why do I feel like this? I’m confused by the reaction my heart has to the news. The fact that his PA is perfect only twists the knife deeper into my back. I’ve no reason to feel this way. I’m married and we haven’t even met. Possession…

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Abby Hale: I heard, he is also that other author, you know Dylan Redding??? I heard that they are one and the same. I also heard he is Marcus Wright…but that’s just cray cray. Ava Readsalot: Shut up! Abby Hale: No, seriously!! That’s what people are saying Ava Readsalot: That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, like EVER! Ava Readsalot: Any other ridiculous theories???? Abby Hale: Yep, apparently they’re all women. Ava Readsalot: LMAO stop, he is NOT a woman. Abby Hale: You’re right…he’s not a woman…He’s a SHIM. Ava Readsalot: WHAT THE FUCK IS A SHIM????? Abby Hale: You know…She/ Him…SHIM…DUH!

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Ava Readsalot: Okay. Officially, that theory, yeah that is a few fries shy of a happy meal if you get my drift. I’m in a fit of giggles when the sound of the phone ringing echoes through the apartment. I hear Alexandre answer it. “Yeah, yeah, sure, no problem. Okay. See you soon.” Ava Readsalot: Fuck!!! Abby Hale: What’s up? Ava Readsalot: Alexandre, just got a phone call…GRRR. With my luck… Abby Hale: With your luck what?? Ava Readsalot: Shit. Okay, I got to go. Alexandre is walking in. I quickly close the screen to my laptop as he enters the bedroom. “Who was that?”

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“Oh just my mom. She’s coming over.” He’s standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. “Alexandre, what do you mean she’s coming over? When?” My voice is rough and abrasive. I can’t hide my annoyance. He shrugs. As if I’m not worth the aggravation. Goddamn him and his shrug. Just spit it out! Tell me what my fate will be. “What, like now, Alexandre? Is she on her way now?” I stare at him with disbelief, and he shrugs his shoulders once again. Oh my God, if he shrugs again, I might be forced to kill him. “I’m not even dressed.” She always shows up unannounced. “So get dressed.” “Some notice would have been nice,” I murmur under my breath as I jump off the bed and head into the bathroom. Quickly turning on the water, I take a quick shower. I

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don’t think I’ve ever showered so fast in my life. I step out, pull the towel around my body, and dry the beads of water dripping down me. As I start to run the brush through my hair, I decide to let it air dry as time is obviously not in my favor. I throw on some clothes and sit down in front of my vanity to do my makeup. I apply a small amount of blush to my already defined cheekbones, and I’m about to apply gloss as Alexandre steps into the bathroom. “My mom is here.” He bites his lip, and his voice is rimmed with something I’m not used to hearing…apology? The word “Okay,” sounds odd as I continue to apply my lip-gloss. He turns to leave and stops and looks back at me. “Mom wants us to go to a fundraiser tonight. We’re going; be ready at 8 pm.” His voice is now void of emotion, leaving me cold

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in the aftermath. As he walks out of the room, I trail behind him. I enter the living area and plaster on a smile. Maybe this won’t be so bad. No such luck as I catch Lenore looking me up and down, her disapproval evident. “Ava, please go get your hair done. You are looking a little…” She looks at me again. Her lips pucker like something tastes sour, and there is disgust in her eyes. “Well, dear, I’d invite you to come to brunch with us before you need to get ready for tonight…but honestly, you seem like you need the time to put yourself together better.” I want to die of embarrassment. My eyes lock on Alexandre. He says nothing. He’s lost in his own thoughts and probably doesn’t even realize his mom has spoken. He does this often. It is his defense mechanism, I think. He just turns off, afraid of the confrontation that could ensue. You would assume after all these years that I wouldn’t

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wait for him to stick up for me. I used to hope that he would, but that ship has sailed. I know he won’t. Somehow, miraculously, I’m able to hold myself together long enough to watch them decide where they would like to go for brunch. I dart from the apartment, leaving them still in conversation. I’m in such a hurry to leave that I barely have time to grab my cell phone. Dialing and breathing I stand by the entrance to our building…heart racing and pissed. “Jules, oh my fucking God….I just can't, I just can't,” I say frantically into the phone. “Calm down Av, breathe. Damn girl, what is wrong?” Her voice is calming…too bad it’s not helping. “I just can’t. Honestly I want to fucking kill her, just beat her ass, and after that I want to string him up, too,” I spit out.

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“Whoa, Whoa! Who are we talking about?” The confusion is evident in her voice. “Lenore, Jules. His God damn mother.” I pace back and forth looking like a crazy lunatic “She…she told me to be presentable. What the fuck? All I do is be presentable. I mean can you believe this shit?” “Yes Ava, I can. She has always been like this! I’m not sure why you thought you would marry her son and ‘poof!’ all would change.” Her voice is serious and rough. She understands and sympathizes with the pain I’ve gone through. “I mean, I’m her daughter now…I just thought getting married would, I don’t know, give me legitimacy or something.” I sigh into the phone. “K, k listen, I’m freaking out, Alexandre and Lenore are going to brunch, and I was told to make myself decent. I need to buy a dress, get my hair done, and…hell,

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makeup, and I just can’t think.” The words come out with frenzy. “Breathe! I will meet you at my apartment, then we will head to Bergdorf’s. You have the key, so just let yourself in. We will go shop, buy you a dress. After we’re done we can have lunch. Then we can make you an appointment right next door to Bergdorf’s at the Plaza Hotel for hair and makeup…you will be fucking gorgeous, and then they will have no choice but to suck it up. Okay, I’m getting off. I need to eat a little something if I am going to have the energy to shop. See you in a few.” “Fine,” I blurt out intending to seem pissed off, but only making myself laugh. God, I love Jules. She always tells me exactly how it is, and well, never takes my bullshit. “Wait, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but what the heck are you doing home today? Don’t you ever work?”

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“Well if you must know smart ass, I was working from home.” “How’s that working out for you?” I laugh. “Better now,” she says cheerfully into the phone. “I don’t know how you function in life.” I wish she could see my smirk and my eye roll. She would surely kick my ass. “Pot, meet kettle,” she says. As I hang up, I can still hear her giggling on the other end. I look across the street, stopping my eyes on my park. The beauty of the wrought iron gate makes my heart stir. Breathing in the spring air, I find peace. Without fail, every time I look at the beauty of that park, it’s like finding heaven. I smile to myself and turn away, walking towards Park Avenue to Jules’s apartment on 24th street. In comparison to Gramercy, Park Avenue is packed. No longer nestled in my sanctuary, I walk head on into the congestion.

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I find myself standing on the corner and waiting for the light to change. Finally after what seems like hours, but is probably only five minutes, I arrive. Smiling to the doorman, I walk to the elevator and ascend to the 6th floor. Stepping off, I make my way to her door and let myself in. As I enter the apartment, I hear Jules in the kitchen. That’s a scary thought. “Hey, babe,” I call out to her. “When did you sneak in?” she chimes in. “I don’t know, somewhere between edible and poisonous?” She blatantly rolls her eyes at me as she turns the music up on the iPhone dock sitting on the counter. My stomach rolls with disgust as I notice a discarded eggshell sitting adjacent to it. That can’t be sanitary. I fight back my gag reflex. “Well good morning to you too, biotch,” she shouts over the music blaring. She is dancing while cooking eggs, a recipe for

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disaster…Her dark brown hair is piled on her head in the sloppiest bun I’ve ever seen, and she is wearing the most disgusting ripped booty shorts. One glance at her, and you would never know that Jules is a law associate at one of the most prestigious firms in city. Right now all you would see is one big hot mess. All of sudden, the fire detector comes alive interrupting the ass move Jules is doing as the smell of burning eggs and smoke fills the room. “GOD, JULES,” I cough and choke on the fumes. “Will you ever, I mean ever, learn to cook?” I ask with a look of disbelief on my face. It’s eggs for heaven’s sake. “Guess I’ll just wait to eat at Bergdorf’s.” She laughs. Jules is in a fit of hysterics, and I can't help but laugh, too. Just a typical day in Casa De Julia Morgan. After the quick brush with death, Jules changes. Wow, does she clean

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up well. She grabs her purse, shoots me her killer smile, and we set off on our way.

WE STEP OUT ON the corner of 24th and Park. A shadow is cast over the city. The impeding rain imminent. Cars fly by in flashes of color. Red, black, white. My eyes search out yellow, my arm held high above my head. As the next cab nears it comes to a stop. Stepping inside it smells of mold, mildew, and a stench I can’t even decipher. “Bergdorf’s please.” He nods and speeds off, swerving through traffic. Jules and I both brace ourselves with the seat in front of us. I might become sick. Pushing down the feelings gathering in my stomach, I focus out the window. The city speeds by in rush of movements, and I become lost in the urban backdrop. When the cab pulls over in front of Bergdorf Goodman, I’m brought back to

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reality. Smiling to myself I think, ‘Where Dreams Come True.’ “Okay, Ava, first things first. A dress. And I know exactly which one you need to get.” She pauses as a smile comes across her face that hints of sin. “You have the cutest little body, and I know you’ll be smoking hot in a Herve Leger dress. Let’s go!” She basically pulls my arm out of its socket as she drags me up the escalators. Within minutes, I’m butt naked in a dressing room being zipped up by a saleswoman for the two-man job of a dress. But wow, once on I have to admit, not only did it fit me like a glove, but it makes me look like every man’s wet dream. The tight-fitting bandage dress is low in the front showing ample cleavage and tied around the neck making a bra unnecessary. The dress stops at my upper thigh and leaves little to the imagination. It’s amazing. I look at the price tag. “$780,”

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“Oh snap, it’s on sale,” she blurts out. “Are you joking?” “I never joke about clothes,” Jules deadpans. “No, but really, Ava. Do you want to stick it to him?” “Yeah, but isn’t this a bit excessive?” She shakes her head adamantly. “Nope.” It’s definitely excessive, but God the dress looks fabulous. There is no other way to say it; this dress is made for me. “You know what? Fuck it. Lenore said I should put myself together, so let’s do this.” I giggle to myself; Jules joins in. “That will teach Alexandre not to stand up to his mom for you,” Jules says with a laugh, her face turning red from the exertions. She turns to me with a very serious look on her face. Oh God. What now? That face scares me. “Okay killer, want to really stick it to him? Louboutin’s here we come.” With a quick nod of my head, I glance at myself one

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more time in the mirror. It’s incredible. This dress really is made for me, and I feel amazing in it. Minutes later three pairs of the most exceptional shoes sit in front of me, but one in particular catches my eye. They are extraordinary…with a price tag to boot. At $1,195.00, these are the most beautiful shoes I’ve ever seen, and they are sky high. Probably five inches. The shoe is adorned with tiny little crystals in a nude shade. Slipping them on my feet, they make my legs look like they go on for days. I need them, and knowing Alexandre will have a coronary when he gets the bill, seals the deal. “Holy shit, Ava! You have to get them! O.M.G., have you looked at your legs? Your legs alone will make your husband take notice.” “I highly doubt anything I do could make him take notice, but here’s to trying.” There is no mistaking the sadness in my voice.

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“Honestly, why…why do you stay with him, Av?” I give her a weak smile. I’m not completely sure. I’m certainly not happy, but fear consumes me. The thought of being alone terrifies me, and the thought of never finding anyone else to love me chokes my heart. Sensing my mood has gone somber, Jules reapplies her signature smile and chirps happily, “Okay, lunch time.” “It’s a bit early for lunch, don’t you think?” “Well, I didn’t eat breakfast.” “I’m not hungry yet.” “We can have cocktails first.” Her nose scrunches as she speaks. My eyes roll on instinct. “It’s like eleven thirty in the morning, Jules.” “It’s five o’clock somewhere.” She winks. Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to the sales associate, “I’ll take both the dress and the

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shoes. But first, any chance you can help me out of this bad boy?” Once the dress is off we head to the restaurant located on the 6th floor and order a round of Bellinis. Bellinis are our signature drink. Sparkling wine mixed with white peach nectar; they are simply divine. We joke it’s the “Nectar of the Gods.” We enjoy a leisurely lunch, which includes more cocktails and two Waldorf salads. While at the restaurant, I call the Plaza Hotel and make myself an appointment for hair and makeup at the beauty salon that’s located there. I then text Alexandre and let him know I will meet him at home dressed and ready to go at 7:45 pm. This is just what the doctor ordered.

THE DAY SPEEDS BY, and I’m standing in the beauty salon changing room. My hair, a rich shade of mahogany, has been blown out

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and flows with soft waves down the sway of my back. The makeup around my eyes is smoky, yet sexy. My eyelashes are long and lush making my sapphire eyes gleam brightly. Jules zips me up as I admire myself in the mirror. The transformation is complete, and for someone with a self-esteem problem I’ve got to admit I look smashing. “Damn girl, if Alexandre doesn’t go nuts, I’ll kill him for you. You look amazing.” “Here’s hoping,” I beam back at her. “No Ava. You are perfect.” I’m not perfect. I’ve just mastered my façade. The one I’ve got on tonight is just a front to hide my insecurities. Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I give myself one more look before I turn and leave. Jules kisses my cheek as I leave her standing outside the Plaza Hotel. The ride home drags as anxiety pricks at me. The dread of having to spend the evening with Lenore penetrates my every thought. The cab

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pulls up to the curb, and I can see Alexandre waiting outside the building. Rolling down the window I speak to him apologetically, “So sorry I’m late, why don’t you hop in and we’ll just take this cab to the event?” He rolls his eyes at me in annoyance and moves to enter the cab. He looks dashing as always. His chocolate brown hair is short yet unruly, and his piercing green eyes brim with displeasure. Clearing my throat, I speak to him, “You look handsome.” I wait patiently for him to remark on my appearance with any indication that he’s pleased with my transformation. Instead, I’m met with indifference as he turns his head and looks out the window. I can feel the tears pooling in my eyes, but I quickly stop them from falling. This isn’t the first time he hasn’t noticed me, and it certainly won’t be the last.

THE CAB PULLS UP to the swanky art gallery located in an old warehouse in the Meatpacking District. The event is to raise money for the liberal arts program for impoverished children at PS33. Public schools have stopped funding creative services; the schools in the city no longer have music, band, and now there is even talk of cutting back the creative writing programs. I don’t believe my mother-in-law really cares about any of this. The only thing she cares about is having her name appear in

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City Style Magazine, one of the many hosts of this pretentious event. I step out of the cab and enter the building. The serving staff is offering champagne and canapés as you enter. I grab a glass and venture into the gallery. The space is amazing. Abstract art decorates the walls. Exposed beams and a stark white interior is the room’s backdrop. The disparity between the tones makes the art pop. I stop at a piece of art nestled in the corner. The colors dance vibrantly across the canvas. The painting is truly alive as red and gold swirl in contrast to make the art electric. It’s simple yet bold. I could lose myself in this painting all night; it’s intoxicating. My eyes wander around the room, and I spot Lenore. Her willowy frame comes into focus. I instantly recognize her dress from last month’s issue of Vogue. The Oscar de la Renta silk pencil dress clings to every curve on her 5 foot 9 frame. As I take her in, I

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notice that she is in a deep discussion with a man. I can’t see who he is, but I can see she’s batting her eyes at him and talking enthusiastically. Whoever he is, she’s trying to impress him. I lock eyes with Lenore. Shit, now I have to go over. I was hoping to enjoy a second glass of champagne, or a third, before having to talk to her. Squaring my shoulders, my head held high, I start my course. As I walk, I catch her inspecting me, her eyes focusing on my dress, then my shoes. I know she’s mentally tallying the price of my ensemble. Bitch. “Ava.” Curt and to the point. “Lovely seeing you, Lenore. You look beautiful as always.” She has no verbal response for me, just nodding and giving me a tight smile. I don’t hold my breath for a compliment; I know none are headed my way. The stranger turns, and I’m left staring into the most beautiful

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piercing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. He is simply breathtaking in his black three-piece Italian suit with a matching skinny tie. The all black ensemble make his eyes sparkle in contrast. “Ryder, this is my daughter-in-law, Ava. Ava, this is Ryder Matthews.” My heart stops. My breathing becomes ragged. In, out. In. Out. My pulse races so fast, I’m dizzy. I might hyperventilate. My eyes focus on Lenore to help regulate my breath. “Ryder was one of our speakers at the conference we held earlier this month. He was instrumental in helping me get bigmoney benefactors to donate. Lucky for me, he works for City Style and was gracious enough to be my escort for this fundraising event.” She emphasizes the word my as she smiles at him adoringly.

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I can’t stop myself, my body has a mind of its own as I turn my attention back to this breathtaking man. It is Ryder Matthews. I try to speak, but no words surface. I can't think coherent thoughts. He has rendered me speechless. Ryder smirks, and my breath catches. That smirk just basically killed me. He knows it’s me. His eyes dare me to tell her we’re already acquainted. Oh God. Do I say something? Will he? How do I play this? “Ryder, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I love your work.” Please, God, do not call me out on my lie. “Ava, the pleasure is all mine. And may I say you’re looking stunning tonight. Your husband is a very lucky man. Now if you ladies will excuse me for a moment, I see someone I know. Ava, Lenore.” And with that he is gone. I watch him walk away, noticing the swagger to his walk as he carries himself

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with arrogance. He is by far the sexiest man I have ever seen. My senses finally return, and I notice Lenore watching me. Shit. “Ava, you need a job for your little shopping habit.” “I already have one, thank you.” “Oh, yes, that little blog of yours.” Her botoxed face tightens with contempt. “How silly of me. And here I just thought you were sitting at home spending my son’s money. Where is my son, anyway?” she asks as I stare at her, and my stomach drops. When will I learn to start anticipating her digs? I do not want, or need, her son’s money, and I’m sick of her saying it. I turn around and see Alexandre standing next to a beautiful woman. She places her hand on his arm as she laughs. Her long, flowing, sun-kissed locks cascade a little further down the curve of her back with each exhale she makes.

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“Oh there he is…with Natasha.” “Natasha?” “Oh yes, dear. Natasha. Her family summered with us in the Hamptons for years. They were practically inseparable growing up. Look how lovely she looks.” I wince at the sound of her words. Her intentions are not lost on me. Lenore is always making back-handed comments at my expense. My body tightens as anger coils in my belly. Shake it off, play it cool. This is what she wants. Who cares that they “summered” with her pretentious ass. “Oh, Nat. Of course Alexandre told me about her.” Alexandre had told me of his summers with Nat as a kid, but I’d just assumed she was ‘one of the boys.’ Silly me. I look back over at the scornful eyes of Lenore and feeling no need to be ridiculed anymore, I decide to part ways with her and venture over to Alexandre. I excuse myself and pull my shoulders back. I walk with dignity and

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confidence. A perfect lie…I wish I felt the way I look. “Ava.” Instead of answering him I smile at Natasha. “Hi, I’m Alexandre’s wife, Ava. Natasha right?” “Yes, I see you’ve heard of me.” She beams. “Yep, Alexandre told me all about you…” My eyes narrow at Alexandre. “And Lenore just told me all about your wonderful summers together in the Hamptons.” “Oh, I love Leni. She's like a second mom to me. We had lunch just last week,” she gushes while tossing her long, platinum blond hair behind her shoulders. Of course she’s best friends with Lenore. Of course, they’ve lunched, and summered together. Hell, they’re basically twins minus the hair, of course. Both tall, skinny, and practically goddesses. “When did you get back from living abroad, Natasha?” I look over to Alexandre,

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who seems enthralled by his cocktail. He holds the tumbler in his hands as he slowly rotates it, the ice rattling off the sides, sloshing the scotch…maybe he hates these events as much as I do? “Actually, I just arrived home two weeks ago. It’s sort of strange being home. I lived in London for…” she pauses to think about her answer, then places a hand on Alexandre’s, “Wow, ten years. Can you believe that?” She smiles with adoration at him, Is she really touching him like that in front of me? I feel like a voyeur, like I’m interrupting an intimate moment between these two. Sick…I feel sick. “Well, it’s very nice to finally get to meet you. You were missed at the wedding.” I give her a coy smile before I turn my attention back to Alexandre. “I’m going to go grab another drink. Alexandre, would you like to join me?” “No, I’m just going to catch up with Nat,”

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Jealousy seeps out of me like a poison. I dig my nails directly into the soft skin below my hemline. I nod goodbye to them knowing if I open my mouth, venom will pour out, and I know I can’t make a scene. I look around the room, my eyes stopping on the Lucite and white modern bar housed in the middle of the room. Yes, that’s exactly what I need right now. I need to take the edge off. A crowd surrounds the bar. Four men who have obviously come straight from work stand there. They still have on their three-piece suits and are standing around laughing and drinking rounds of tequila shots. I watch as the Patron Silver is poured. It seems the festivities have begun. They are loud. They are drunk. I have no desire to be near them… I make haste and dash to the nearest cocktail waitress. A young beauty with fiery hair holds a stainless steel tray with six

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crystal flutes filled to the brim with a Brut Rosé. She seems to have an acute knowledge of what I need, her eyes looking over to the obnoxious crowd of rowdy men. She flashes me a knowing smile and a wink. I bring the glass up to my red stained lips. The crisp bubbles are as refreshing as a cool summer’s breeze as they make their way down my throat. Supple and aromatic…the epitome of style. Now holding my latest glass of champagne, I step into the alcove. Within the confines of the new space is a beautiful blue and navy abstract piece of art that spans the whole length of the wall. Finally alone, I inhale a calming breath, needing the oxygen to calm my emotions. As I stand in front of the painting, I lose myself within the brush strokes dancing across the surface. Time passes… Minutes.

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Seconds. I’m not sure how long I stand in my solitude, but my feet ache, and my drink is now empty. As I redistribute my weight to the balls of my feet to relieve the pain, I feel a body step behind me. The heat radiates through me, and my breath hitches in my chest. “Ava,” the gravelly voice says. My heart races. Ryder. All logic has left my brain. I step away from the voice, moving closer to the adjacent wall, and turn around. Ryder steps forward, his gaze penetrating me. I suck in air quickly as he leans in, his mouth dangerously close to mine. “Hello, Ava. Looking at you is as if I am looking at a painting of a goddess. Your beauty leaves me breathless.” His sapphire eyes sparkle as his husky voice seduces me. I nervously smile and bite my lip. “It really is such a shame you don’t see how captivating

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you are.” He lowers his face and looks closer into my eyes. How’d he know that? It’s like he actually sees me, all of my secrets sitting right there. It’s the craziest feeling, but I feel like I’ve known him all my life. Words feel unnecessary with him. At this moment all of my feelings are conveyed by the way I am losing myself in his eyes. I am lost… I am found… I never want to pull away. “What a pleasure it is to finally see you, and here, what a coincidence.” He laughs. When he doesn’t speak I realize I’m obviously not privy to his inside joke. It doesn’t matter though…his words are playful, I’m sure it was nothing. His eyes dance with delight as he takes in my obvious discomfort. I move my eyes away from him, away from his scrutiny. He follows my gaze as my eyes scan the room to make sure no one can see us.

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"This painting reminds me of you,” he says, looking behind me. I turn my body to take in the view. On the wall, in a white mounted frame, is a woman. Her eyes are half-mast, and her mouth is parted ever so slightly. Her facial features aren’t well-defined, rather swirls of color. The colors are muted grey, white, and black. Only red bleeds off the canvas in bright rivulets. Her face is cracked and flawed. She appears vulnerable and haunted. Ryder turns my body back to him. His eyes lock on mine. "From far away, she is exquisite—impeccable.” His eyes peer into my soul. “But up close she is broken.” "What do you see when you look at her?” His words sear me, ripping me out of the confines of my denial. "She is broken," I agree, my is voice low, almost a whisper.

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"She is shattered, and yet she is still perfect.” I understand his full meaning. His words are absolute, and I believe them. “Your beauty captivates me. I feel an immense desire to talk to you and not just online. Would you like to meet me?” As he speaks I am lost in his eyes, His mouth moves, but I am so enthralled I can’t make out his words. “Ava…” “Hmm, what?” “It would be my pleasure to take you out for a drink one day.” My cheeks become hot, and I blush crimson as I contemplate my answer. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea Ryder.” “Why? We talk all the time, Ava.” “That’s different.” “We can meet to discuss my new book?” “Oh. I guess that would be…Yes. That’s fine then.” My voice is low, almost a whisper.

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“I’ll message you.” He turns and walks away, leaving me disoriented. Not even a goodbye… As he strides away, I’m left standing alone, perplexed and shaking my head. What the hell was that? Never have I been this affected by someone. I’m ripped from the confines of my mind when Alexandre’s voice rings through the air. Where the heck did he come from? Shit…did he see me talking to Ryder? “Ava, are you ready to leave?” I look down at my diamond encrusted Chopard watch… When did an hour pass? “Yes, Alexandre, we can go.” My voice is still unnerved from the interruption. I step aside and walk past him. As I make my way toward the exit, I can see Natasha staring at us. Alexandre walks up to her, leaning in for a goodbye kiss. His lips are dangerously close to her mouth. Her arm lays on his in an act of familiarity I’m not so

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sure I am comfortable with. He whispers something into her ear, and she throws her head back in a laugh and smiles brightly. He is now laughing, too; I miss that side of Alexandre. It has been a long time since I have seen him openly laugh like that. The level of intimacy between them left me uncomfortable. Anger starts to rise. I look across the gallery and standing in the center of the room talking to an older brunette, is Ryder. I lock eyes with him, and a calm falls over my body. The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly, and a devilish smile appears. His eyes are mischievous as if he knows how affected I am by him. Then out of nowhere, Ryder’s face changes, and it becomes unreadable, now a blank page. With one last look he turns, breaking the spell. Lost in my thoughts, I don’t notice Alexandre approach. “What are you staring at?” he asks as his eyes dart back and forth to where my eyes are locked. He gives me a strange look while

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shaking his head in confusion, “Why are you just standing there?” His words are rimmed with impatience. I look at him wide-eyed with bewilderment as I realize I’m still standing in the doorway of the gallery. God, I was almost caught gawking at Ryder. “You’re so out of it,” he mutters under his breath as he walks past me. My arms sway rhythmically back and forth as my legs carry me closer to the curb to catch up. When I approach him I stare at him for a moment, his interaction with Natasha clawing at me. Where have we gone wrong? What have I done to warrant such a dismissal? “Do you still love me?” “God, Ava, stop being so…” He raises his hands, running them through his hair as he tries to find the right word. “Stop being so what, Alexandre?” I shrug, lifting my hands and shoulders in unison. “This Ava, this. Stop being so overdramatic.”

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“Overdramatic? Really, Alexandre? Wow…” “Ava,” The word comes out somber, as if he is battling his own demons. But as quickly as the emotions surface, I see him close them off. His face becomes tight, and his brow furrows, showing crease lines in his forehead. My heart splinters in two. Alexandre moves closer to the street, raising his hand above his head to hail the cab slowly approaching and coming to a stop. “You haven't answered me, Alexandre.” “Yes, Ava,” he utters through gritted teeth. “Yes, I love you. Now will you get in the cab?” I stand motionless. “GET. IN. THE. CAB.” As I start toward the cab, he doesn’t follow. “Alexandre?”

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“I will meet you at home.” He speaks in a low hushed tone while looking at me, but in truth he is looking through me. His eyes do not connect to mine. “You’re leaving me in this cab?” My heart beats faster, the blood draining from my face. He doesn’t answer, just refocuses his gaze and stares into my eyes. He’s not coming with me? Tears well and threaten to fall. “I just…I have something I need to do.” “I don’t understand?” My tears are replaced with anger, and my voice rises with each word. “You bring me to this event, don’t spend a second of time with me, pay me no attention, and now you have something you need to do?” “Do not make a scene,” his voice is almost a whisper, “please.” As he says the words I catch a glimpse of the Alexandre I knew. The one I once loved. His emerald eyes soften as he rubs his face with concern. It breaks my

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heart even more. Seeing these glimpses crush me. He knocks lightly on the driver’s side window, signaling with his hand for the driver to lower his window. “Take her to 36 Gramercy Park East.” He reaches into his pocket and hands the driver a twenty. He turns back to me. “I’ll see you later, okay?” He tries to reassure me, but nothing he says will fix how I feel… Dejected. My mouth opens, but no sound comes out. He shakes his head and turns away before I have time to get my words out. I make my way into the back of the decrepit old cab. As we begin to pull away and start driving through the city, tears stream down my cheeks. My sobs are silent. I fight to not hyperventilate. Where did this all go wrong? I know we were happy once; we had fallen in love fast and were married even faster. Over the years it’s like a light switched

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for Alexandre. What was once abundance is now destitute. He has become a different person, and it is actually alarming the speed of rapid deterioration. I slow my breathing to calm myself and finally the tears subside. I look around to get my bearings, and I notice we have arrived back at the apartment. Stepping out of the cab, I look up at the architecture before me. In the shadows the gargoyles and cherub that nest on the arches of the building are ominous. I hurry into the building and move quickly past the doorman. I can’t stand the thought of anyone knowing how upset I am. Feeling calmer I turn my computer on and hop online. I know what I’m searching for; I know Ryder is still at the fundraiser, but I hope when he leaves and is back online, he’ll be able to give me what I so desperately need. Attention. Ava Readsalot: Hi.

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As I wait for him to return home, I decide to undress and change into my pajamas. I make my way to the sink and turn on the water. The lukewarm water feels refreshing on my soft skin, and the muscles in my face relax as I wash off the evening. Waves of emotions drain from my sordid mind. Feeling unblemished and anew, I make my way back to my bed. Ryder Matthews: Hey! Ryder Matthews: How are you? Ava Readsalot: I’m okay. Ryder Matthews: Just okay? Ava Readsalot: Yeah, ok. Ryder Matthews: How about now that you’re talking to me? Are you…better? Ava Readsalot: Much better. Ryder Matthews: Good, that’s what I wanted to hear.

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I laugh at the exchange. Although nothing of importance is said, so much is implied. So much is spoken without words. Ryder Matthews: Did you have fun tonight? Ava Readsalot: No. Not really. You? Ryder Matthews: Not particularly. But it’s the nature of the beast. Ryder Matthews: You looked radiant tonight. Ava Readsalot: Thanks, I needed that. Ryder Matthews: It’s the truth, and my pleasure to tell you. Uncontrollable warmth flushes across my face. This is exactly what I was looking for. This is the reason I engage him. Ryder Matthews: So any big plans this weekend?

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Ava Readsalot: No…No plans at all. You? Ryder Matthews: Nope, I was thinking drinks this week at the Peninsula? Ava Readsalot: I would love that :-) Ava Readsalot: What night works for you? Ryder Matthews: Tomorrow, lol. No, seriously, what works for you? Ava Readsalot: Honestly, as pathetic as it sounds, I have no plans tomorrow. If you want to meet for a drink, I’m sure I can. Ryder Matthews: No plans with the hubby? Ava Readsalot: Who? lol…um, NO. Ryder Matthews: You deserve nothing less than extraordinary, Ava Ava Readsalot: I don’t even know what to say…thank you. Ryder Matthews: You’re welcome, Ava. Ava Readsalot: Okay, I’m going to go to bed. See you tomorrow.

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Ryder Matthews: Sounds like a plan, beautiful. Knowing Ryder thinks I’m beautiful, makes me feel beautiful. I continue to stare at the computer for a minute smiling to myself. Enamored. Meeting this man in person is like a light switching on. Denying the attraction is no longer an option.

MY EYES FLUTTER open the next morning. As my arms stretch above my head, I see Alexandre. When the hell did he get into bed? He’s on one side of the king-sized mattress, I’m on the other. As close as we are…a world separates us. My stomach rolls with disgust as last night flashes thought my conscience. I had been rustled awake last night when Alexandre drunkenly gets into bed. I glanced over to my night stand. 4 am…Are

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you kidding me? My eyes fluttered closed. I was too tired to yell at him. I feel something slobbery against my head. My nose scrunches at the stench. His drunken breath reeks of booze. He kisses the side of my forehead. “Love you,” he mumbles. “You’re drunk? Where were you?” “Drinking,” he slurs. “What the hell? You don’t even drink. I don’t understand? Where were you?” “What?” “Were you with her?” “With who?” he grunts in his alcoholic stupor. Hearing his slurred words infuriates me. I don’t even try to mask my contempt. “You're kidding, right? Natasha. Were. You. With. Natasha?” Words fall out of my mouth like a levee has burst, flooding the room with hatred and disdain.

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“You know what?” He stumbles out of bed. “No. What, Alexandre? What intelligent comment do you have for me? Oh wait, can you even form a sentence?” Bile forms in my mouth. I swallow hard, forcing my stomach to not turn. He starts for the door. “Where are you going?” “I’m, I goingtowater.” His words slur again as he starts to walk away. “Was that even English?” He thinks for a minute and I wait, wait for him to gather his thoughts to be able to form a sentence. “Yea.” The door slams behind him. I lay in bed, motionless, waiting for him to return, but he never does. Defeated. My body convulses as I sob. Thinking back to last night brings back all the anger I was harboring inside me…

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Maybe I should work out. Maybe that will help my mood. Doubt it, but I’m seeing Ryder later…yeah I need to decompress. I open the door that leads to the bathroom and make my way to the counter. Leaning over the marble, and losing myself in my reflection for a second. I think God, I look awful. My finger reaches out and turns the water on. I immerse my hands in the stream that flows from the faucet. Lukewarm water collects in my hands, and I bring it up to my eyes, washing away the sleep and tears. Forgoing my typical makeup, I grab my toothbrush and swirl on a little mint tooth paste and rid myself of the left over cocktails still on my taste buds from last night. Last night? I wonder where Alexandre was so late? He was probably with Natasha. He never did tell me. Natasha. The name filters through my brain with disdain.

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Were they ever more than friends? Is there something going on there? I shake off the thoughts of his relationship with her, and instead focus on the task at hand…grabbing a pair of hot pink spin pants and black sports bra. I get dressed quickly and my cell phone rings as I place my feet in a pair of running shoes. With a quick glance at my cell phone, I see Jules is calling. Obviously, who else would it be? No one else calls me. “Hey, you,” I answer. “So…how was last night?” She draws out the ‘o’ when she speaks. She’s prepared for details. “Oh God, don’t even get me started.” “That bad?” she inquires. “Yes, that bad.” I look into the bedroom. “Hold on one second, Jules. Alexandre is out cold in the bed. Let me just get outside so I don’t wake him.” “Okay, no problem.”

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I head out the door, grabbing my bag on the way out. “Where was I? You know what…the phone might cut out. Let me just call you back when I get out of the elevator, okay?” “Yeah, sure.” I press the elevator button to call it and wait. Tapping my foot against the floor, my impatience sets in, but then the door opens. Stepping in, I glance down at my phone. No Service. Seconds later the elevator door opens and my fingers hit the send button to call Jules back. “Hey sorry about that.” Reaching into my bag with my other hand I grab my sunglasses. “So?” she questions. “Well, Alexandre came home wasted last night.” “Shut up. That man never drinks.” Jules has known Alexandre for years. They

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attended Prep school together. She is actually the one who introduced us. “I know. It was really weird, and then,” I stop speaking as the doorman appears in my scope. My lips turn up into a smile, and I nod at him as I exit the lobby. “And then….” “Oh sorry. Where was I?” I already lost my place in my story. “Alexandre was drunk,” She reminds me. Yup, jerk. “Oh yeah, so he was wasted, and he got into bed and got all hands-y,” I say. “No shit, wow okay” Her voice sounds confused, shocked. “So not cool right?” “No, not at all, he can’t honestly think that’s okay right?” “I mean he was drunk, so who knows what he was thinking”

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“That is true, obviously he wasn’t thinking that much.” She giggles into the phone. “Sorry Av, this is so not funny.” “Nah, it’s kind of funny. So enough about me, I feel like we always talk about my issues.” “Well, that’s because, love, you kind of need help. Yeah, not sure how to say this, but you, my dear, are not really playing with a full deck.” “You’re such an ass.” “That’s why you love me.” “Okay, okay enough about me. Tell me what you did last night.” As Jules tells me about her exploits from the night before, I walk. I continue until I reach Washington Square Park, and then continue my trek back to my neck of the woods. We must have talked for hours, but as she speaks, and I’m lost in her stories, it feels as if it has only been minutes. Guess I missed the gym…oh, well.

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AS I MAKE MY way back into Gramercy, I decide to stop at the French bistro, L’Express. I pull out my phone and text Alexandre to see if he wants anything. He responds instantly but unfortunately, since I didn’t leave a note as to where I was going, he informs me that he is going out for lunch with a friend. I snarl at the mention of a friend. This friend has got to be Natasha. I don’t really have any reason to think this, but since it’s official that my sanity is already long gone, I text him. Me: Who are you having lunch with? My emotions ravage my nerves. My heart rate increases, and my blood pressure rises. The fear of his answer ebbs away at the peace I had moments earlier.

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Alexandre: Natasha My suspicions are confirmed. He’s with her. All my prior emotions are replaced with a mix of anger and then transfer to a strange feeling of excitement when I remember my future escapades planned with Ryder. The guilt that I should have is absent as I think of the evening but then…I stop…a thought nags in my head as I wonder if Alexandre could be doing the same thing?

HOURS RUSH BY, and it’s almost 5:30 pm. Alexandre is still not home, and I need to be ready to leave in an hour to meet Ryder. After showering I blew out my hair, applied lipstick, and stepped into a short black A-line dress, professional yet sexy. I throw on a pair of red stilettos and am out the door. Within twenty-five minutes I’m pulling up in my cab to The Peninsula Hotel

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th

on 55 and 5th. I arrive under the false pretense of a “working cocktail.” That’s what I tell myself as I reapply my lipstick and check my appearance for the umpteenth time before stepping into the lounge. As I enter the Bar at Clement I notice the modernistic space. The room is faintly illuminated, leaving an air of seduction; leather banquettes span the center of the room. The hue of the room, a robust cognac provides the ideal backdrop to indulgence. Along the outskirts, overlooking 5th avenue, are secluded alcoves that would be optimal for temptation and later…persuasion. The lounge is sexy, sophisticated, and like Ryder, worldly. It evokes feelings of status and privilege. Ryder is already here, standing at the bar looking like sheer perfection. He’s wearing a pair of charcoal slacks and a tight-fitting black button down. The definition in his chest is not lost on me, even in that dress

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shirt. Our eyes meet, his gaze lights me on fire. I swallow and will myself to approach. “Ava, you look beautiful, as always.” He leans in grazing my cheek with a kiss. I’m not used to this much attention. “Thank you, Ryder.” “What are you drinking? Glass of champagne?” I smile and nod. “Brut Rosé, right?” his smile touches his eyes. I’m floored that he remembers. “Yes, please.” He motions to the bartender. “I’ll have a Glen Livet neat, and this lovely lady will have a glass of the Brut Rosé.” He turns back to me still smiling, but this time I can see his pupils have dilated as he trails them up my body, “You really are a beautiful woman, Ava. When I look at you, I am completely enraptured.” Feeling uncomfortable from the attention, I try to change the direction of our

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conversation. “So tell me, what can I help you with, Ryder? What did you want to discuss?” “Honestly?” he asks. “Yes, honestly.” “Nothing, I just wanted to see you.” His answers floor me. I breathe in deeply, calming my already shaky nerves. “So you brought me here under the false pretense of a working relationship, so you could see me?” To be honest I’m rather flattered, but I don't want him to know that. He looks at me with a knowing smile. Damn, he knows. “Yes, Ava. You intrigue me,” he exhales and speaks again, “There’s something about you. When I saw your picture,” he pauses; my pulse is erratic. “After talking to you that very first time, I just needed to know.” “What did you need to know?” My voice is barely a whisper, raspy and confused.

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“I needed to know you.” I feel my heartbeat pick up in my chest, so I grab my glass off the counter and take a big gulp to calm my nerves. “Oh.” Words have escaped me yet again. Whenever Ryder is around I feel naked before him. It’s as if he can see into the depth of my soul past all the walls I’ve built up. He can see all my insecurities. As we stand there adjacent to the bar, we talk. It’s so refreshing to just talk to someone. We speak through our first drinks and well into another round. Finally after what must have been forty-five minutes, I reference last night and the coincidence of seeing him. “So, It was crazy seeing you yesterday with Lenore,” I say to him as I sip my drink. “I totally did not see that coming.” I smile lightly. “Yeah, right.” He laughs.

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“Although in truth, I’m surprised we have not met earlier. We do run in the same social circles,” I say to him. “Well, maybe I didn’t want to present myself before. Maybe I wanted to wait till the time was right.” He winks at me. “Lenore is quite the character.” He continues to laugh to himself as he speaks, and my body warms at the sound. His eyes light up when he laughs. Magnificent. “That she is. I was actually really surprised to have seen you there.” “I know, you said that already, but why is that, Ava?” He looks deep within my soul when he speaks. It’s unnerving. My whole body shivers. “I thought no one knew what you looked like? I just figured…” “What did you figure? You figured I was a recluse? Hardly. I just don’t allow my picture to be taken. I’m very particular about who knows my true identity.”

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“Do you allow yourself to be photographed at these events? I mean you were there as Lenore’s guest. I just imagined she would parade you around every photographer. “ “Oh she tried.” He laughs out “Believe me, she tried. Too bad she didn’t realize that I control everything. Even when you think I don’t…I do.” “Aw, an evil mastermind, are you?” I giggle. “Yes, Ava.” His words are a warning, almost like he is flying a red flag in front of me. This is a crossroads. I know I should think long and hard about how to proceed, but instead, I choose to ignore it. I’m too intoxicated to care. Instead I decide to move toward the burning flame. I decide to heed no warnings. As the minutes pass I’m losing my free will. Ryder Matthews is holding me prisoner, and I don’t want him to release me. Ever.

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He leans forward; his lips graze my ear. “You're the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met. Hearing you speak, the excitement in your voice. The blush of your cheeks when I make you uncomfortable…Ava, you fascinate me.” I shake my head in confusion and as I go to open my mouth, he lifts his hand up to stop me. “You’re astonishing. Do you understand?” The way he says my name gives me chills. Goose bumps prick at my skin. “Yes, I understand.” “Come with me.” My fate sealed. There’s something so real about him, and when he tells me to do something I feel I’ve no choice but to comply. He smiles and lightly grabs my arm, ushering me to the back of the room. My steps are rocky as I follow him. Now situated close to the window overlooking the city, Ryder stands by my side. His warm breath in my ear, “Where is your husband, Ava?” His words seduce me.

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He looks at me like a hungry predator stalking his prey. There is so much more meaning behind his simple words, knowing this leaves me dizzy with need. “I don’t know…I don’t know,” I breathe out again in almost a whisper as his fingers skim my waist. “That is a shame.” He is trailing a pattern down my torso, stopping at the curve of my hip. I shudder and my breath hitches as his hand turns me around. His eyes glaze over with desire and he leans forward. “Tell me to stop.” His face is a mere inch away from mine, “Tell me to stop, Ava.” My heart slams against my chest. I’m weak and dizzy. I shut my eyes and in a pained tone I utter the word I couldn’t say with my eyes open. “Stop.” All time stands still. No sound. No movement. I’m hyper aware of the void between us. When I finally open my eyes, his face

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appears stoic. His breathing becomes so still, it feels lifeless. It’s as though my rejection has chipped away the lining of his cavalier demeanor. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.” He turns, fading away into the crowd like vapor. What the hell? Shaking my head in disbelief I down my cocktail and in a haze find my way back to the bar. My feelings are a mess. Now standing at the bar in the lounge, I feel confused more than anything. My legs feel like they will give out under the weight I’m holding in my heart. I see an open bar stool and place my fragile body on it. My emotions are playing tricks on me. I feel so alone; so incredibly desolate with his absence. I know he didn’t really leave me, but even his small dismissal of me hurts me so much worse than all the indifference spewed at me from my actual partner. I’m spiraling out of control. These feelings are so foreign to me. I’ve no idea what is wrong

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with me. I feel like I’ve nothing left to give; the idea of going home to Alexandre makes me feel ill. I order another glass of champagne and attempt to drown all the fears and feelings of loss. A few minutes pass, and as I sip the last of my champagne, I hear that gravelly voice behind me. “You’re intoxicating.” “What do you want from me?” “Everything.” I turn my head around to look at him, and he leans in to whisper in my ear, “God I need to have you. But,” he draws out the words as he speaks them, “I’m not going to kiss you. Not until you can be mine." “Please,” I beg, pressing my chest into the back of the chair to get closer to him. I know I can’t do this, but I can’t seem to get my words to match my thoughts. My body is moving of its own accord. I’m losing control at a rapid speed. My nails dig into my thighs

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as he stares into the depths of my soul, seeking out the answer. He seems to be fighting a losing battle with himself. Suddenly he steps in front of me and parts my legs, stepping in between them. His body presses against mine as I sit on the barstool. I can feel him against my core. My breathing grows frantic and choppy. I try to shake off the unbearable want. His mouth nearly descends onto mine but thankfully that is when the fog finally lifts from my eyes, and I whisper, “Stop.” I say it so softly, I’m not sure if I even want him to hear. I’m not sure if I even mean it. My body is shaking with need, but I know I can’t cross this line. His breath is heavy as his hands grip my hips so tightly. He is still pressed against me. I can feel how turned on he is through my dress. His hands run up my body until they loosely grab my throat.

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He tightens the hold, “God Ava, you make me crazy, I fucking need you. I can promise you…soon. Now go home to him, and think of my lips, think of my voice, remember my touch, because next time we see each other, this is going to happen.” He shakes his head, righting himself, and removes his hand from my neck. His fingers interlock with mine as he leads me out through the lobby. We step out onto 55th Street. A chill hangs in the air. A shiver runs down my body, and I feel his hand grip mine tighter. Gently dropping my hand, Ryder walks out into the street and hails me a cab. Once the car stops at the curb, I walk up to him. Biting my lip, my eyes half mast, I lean forward onto my tip toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. He turns ever so slightly, and my lips graze his. They are everything I imagine them to be. Soft and delicious. I want to be greedy, I want to grab him and

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pull him into me, but I don’t, I can’t. Not here and not like this. This beautiful man is my curse. He is my weakness. By the time I make my way home, it’s almost 9:30 pm. Alexandre is not there, and I’m not sure where he is. I undress and jump in the shower. The mascara runs down the side of my face as I wash away my evening. The confusion is not as easy to wash away. I think of his words, “You intoxicate me.” His voice is sweet like honey. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I can’t believe I was out with a man who is not my husband. Am I really considering doing this? Being with a different man? I look over to Alexandre’s empty side of the bed, I start to wonder where he is. I don’t even care. It doesn’t even matter anymore…All I can think about is Ryder. There is something about him. His voice. The way he looks at me. He really sees me. It’s enchanting; it’s as if a spell is cast over me. I no

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longer just think of him when I let my thoughts drift. I now think of him all the time.

THE NEXT DAY arrives in the blink of an eye. I’m surprised to realize I have no regrets about last night. Not that anything regretful happened. Ryder was a perfect gentleman, and when he walked me to the cab, I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before saying goodnight. You intoxicate me… It’s Sunday morning and typically Alexandre and I have a standing plan to run errands together. The last few weeks we haven’t gone, each busy with our own lives. I think back to the last time we ran errands in Soho then went to Balthazar for lunch. It must have been over a month ago…

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The waitress slowly pours water from a glass carafe. She steps away from the table as I sit motionless waiting for him to take notice of me. Looking up, he smiles once and then his eyes drift off. He gazes around the room, his head angling toward the door, watching as people enter. Turning back, we lock eyes, and it placates me, but then his eyes leave mine and his vision connects with the water goblet in front of him. Staring into an abyss. My shoulders slump forward, and I cast my eyes downward toward the table. No longer connected, I get lost in the empty space in front of me. At times like this I wonder what he thinks about when he is quiet. It’s unnerving. Is he judging me? Is he happy with me? Sometimes I just need reassurance… Instead I feel alone.

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After remembering that day…the last thing I want do today is spend time with my husband, but I probably should. “Alex, you need to wake up.” “Hmm,” he mumbles from beneath his pillow. “Wake up, Alex.” He doesn’t stir as I continue to stare at him. “Fine, I’m going to make coffee.” When I come back, I find Alexandre sitting on the bed playing with his phone. “Alex we have plans today, remember?” He doesn’t respond. “My biggest pet peeve is when I speak and you say nothing.” Normally I wouldn’t confront him, but my evening with Ryder has given me a new resolve. “Your silence infuriates me.” Nothing. "Fucking speak, Alexandre.”

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He looks up and stares at my blankly. "Do you even hear the way you speak to me?" he finally responds. "Pot meet kettle, I don't even know why we do this.” I place my hands on my hips. “Maybe we should see someone, Alex. Maybe we should see a therapist.” “You’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to air our dirty laundry to someone, let alone a complete stranger. This is just a rough patch.” “A rough patch? I feel like I’m drowning. I feel like I don’t know you. You know what? Forget it. You stay here. Don’t come with me today. I’m going to just do my own thing. ” Turning on my heels, I stride into the bathroom, plopping down onto the vanity chair situated in front of the mirror. Like an addict seeking another hit, I open my messenger app.

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Ava Readsalot: I had such an amazing time last night. Ryder Matthews: Me too. Ava Readsalot: I actually can’t stop thinking about you. Ryder Matthews: Well, I can’t stop thinking of you, either. Butterflies take flight in my stomach. Ava Readsalot: What are you doing today? Ryder Matthews: Working on my new book. Ava Readsalot: Anything interesting? Ryder Matthews: The character is a beautiful brunette who is simply indefectible. Ava Readsalot: Really? Ryder Matthews: No, actually she is a tall blond, really leggy. Ava Readsalot: Oh.

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I feel dejected and wonder if this rumor about him and his PA is true. Just as I’m about to sign off and let sleeping dogs lie, another message comes through. Ryder brunette.

Matthews:

LMAO,

nope,

I instantly feel better. It’s as if someone is choking me and has finally let go. Ava Readsalot: Brunette? Oh, really? hmm, sounds familiar, any more details? LMAO. Ryder Matthews: Nope that’s it, oh, and she is obnoxious. Ava Readsalot: Hey!!! I’m not obnoxious! Ryder Matthews: What makes you think she’s you? Ava Readsalot: Whatever, you’re rude Ryder Matthews: Hahaha

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I can't help but laugh out loud. Ryder Matthews: No actually, I don’t base any of my characters on one person, more a culmination of many. There’s always some truth in all of them. Ava Readsalot: So… Ryder Matthews: Yes? Ava Readsalot: Um, when do I get to see you again? Ryder Matthews: When do you want to see me? Ava Readsalot: As soon as possible. Ryder Matthews: I’m sure we can work something out. Ryder Matthews: What are you doing today? Relief floods me as I realize he is not put off by my forwardness. I wish I could see him, but I think its best that I don’t today,

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deciding instead today is the ideal day to see my mother. Then I will run errands…alone. Ava Readsalot: I actually think I’m going to see my mom. Ryder Matthews: That’s nice ? Ava Readsalot: Not really :- ( Ryder Matthews: Want to talk about it? Ava Readsalot: Yeah but not today, I was sad this morning, but you make me happy. Today is a good day to see her. Ryder Matthews: Well, know I’m always at your disposal. I’m always here to listen Ava Readsalot: Thank you. Hearing that…well, it means a lot to me. Your friendship means more to me than you’ll ever know. Ryder Matthews: Same, Ava. Same Ava Readsalot: Ok I’m going to run xoxo

I THROW ON SOME clothes and make my way outside. My mother lives in an apartment within walking distance of me. That was one of my stipulations when Lenore was picking out where we were to live. Her building sits on the corner of 28th and Lexington. It’s approximately an eight-block walk to her apartment…give or take an avenue. But on this beautiful spring day, it’s invigorating. I wave to her doorman as I approach the building and see him through the giant glass

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windows of the high rise she lives in. I give him a friendly nod, and his lips bend slightly in a somber fashion. I enter the elevator and start my climb to the 16th floor. Letting myself in, I see my mother, sitting in her favorite chair, staring out the window. She doesn’t turn to me as I make my approach. She just stares blankly into the abyss. “Hi, Mom.” She says nothing as usual. Tara, the home care aid, chooses that moment to walk into the room. “Morning, Mrs. Harrison.” “Morning, Tara. How is she today?” “She’s okay. A little moody,” Tara’s voice is laced with apology and a little bit of sadness. Tara has worked for my mother from the beginning. She actually knew my mom before this. She worked in the hospital with my mom before she left to work as her personal nurse. I started to notice the signs of memory loss when my mom was around fifty-five

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years old. But it wasn’t the little things that she forgot that made me concerned. In the beginning it wasn’t anything too noticeable, rather small things that I had just recently told her. This stands out to me now, and I should have been more aware. I should have known. My mother was a brilliant woman. She was beautiful and vivacious, and when I was younger, a force to be reckoned with. She was always said to be smart beyond her years but always young at heart. She was, and is, my role model. Although she never had to work, she did so because she received great joy from helping people. And when she followed her dream and became a doctor, she lived with happiness in her heart. I didn’t even take notice or wonder when she had forgotten how to make the family recipe for banana bread or when she couldn’t figure out how to use the DVR. Nope, not even then. Denial…It’s a funny thing.

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The moment I realized, the moment that made me finally take notice and know something was truly wrong, was when she no longer enjoyed work. When she started to withdraw from being near her patients, that’s when I knew. I used to visit often, but recently my visits have become fewer in her declining years. It has become too painful. I now find myself going to her on a day where I need her, where I need the comfort of my mom. Today is one of those days. I take a seat in the beige, wingback chair that sits in the corner of her living room adjacent to hers. I place my hand on her hers, seeking her warmth, her comfort. She twitches and shakes off my hand placing her arm in the center of her lap, away from my touch. My eyesight blurs as tears pool. I blink them away, and one rolls down my cheek. “Mom, it’s me Ava.” The strength I’m trying to hold onto cracks as I openly sob.

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“I’m having a hard time, I need you,” I speak to her as if she can hear me, as if she is there. “Alexandre and I are not in a good place, I don’t know what to do. And well, I met someone, Mom. He makes me feel special. I wish you were here. God, I miss you.” I’m split in two. Completely broken. I’ve never needed anyone more than her. She is my light, she is my sanity, and she is my unblemished match. She embodies everything I’ve ever wanted to be, but now when I look at her, she’s gone, and I’m not sure where that leaves me. I stare into the blank space. My vision focuses on one tiny crack in the foundation. My eyes follow the crack as it spreads and grows. The paint is bumbling around it. I stare at it, mesmerized how what started as a tiny flaw has grown, the fault so big now it needs to be fixed. After about an hour of sitting with my mom, I stand from my seat and walk over to

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her. I kneel and look directly into her soft green eyes. They remind me of a freshly cut meadow. She smiles at me, but there is no recognition. She smiles as if I’m a patient she bumped into on the street, as if I’m an old colleague she once knew. I lean forward and give her a tentative hug. She smells of lilacs and peppermint, how she has always has smelled. It brings me comfort to have something stay the same. “Bye, Mom, I love you.” I turn to find Tara standing in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Bye, Tara, I’ll be back next week. I’ll call tomorrow to check in.” I spend the eight-block walk thinking of my mother. I reminisce on her life and all the things she has taught me. I wonder what she would say if she could speak to me about my issues with Alexandre? Would she judge me for my feelings towards another man? Would I make her proud, or would she be disappointed? My mother has lived an exceptional

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life, traveled the world, healed many. What have I done in contrast? These thoughts plague me, and as I walk into my apartment, I can’t help but feel disconnected from my life and my marriage. Later that night I find that sleep eludes me yet again. I reach for my pills. It’s nearly impossible to calm my mind enough, so instead, I decide to medicate myself with Xanax. It’s just a Band-Aid. The underlying issue is not as easy to fix. I pop a pill and as I wait for the bliss to set in, I turn on my phone and open messenger. Ava Readsalot: You there? I can’t sleep :-( Ryder Matthews: Hey, baby, what’s wrong? My heart skips a beat just to read the words he wrote. But I need more. I’ve become insatiable.

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Ava Readsalot: I want to hear your voice. I need to hear your voice right now. Ryder Matthews: Okay. Ava Readsalot: I just realized I don’t even have your number. Ryder Matthews: Well, that can easily be fixed. Ava Readsalot: So…Waiting, patiently… Ryder Matthews: Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of a nerd. Ava Readsalot: Yeah once, he was dashingly handsome man, coppery brown hair, eyes so blue they would make the oceans jealous ;-) Ryder Matthews: Flattery will get you everywhere 917-555-0303 I glance over to my left, making sure Alexandre is still asleep.

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Clutching my phone in my hand and walking into my bathroom, closing the door, I run the water and proceed to walk further into the en-suite. I slide my finger over the home screen, typing in the code I’ve recently added for obvious reasons. Guilt starts to set in but it’s replaced quickly as I get excited for what I’m about to do. “Hi,” I whisper into the phone. “Hi.” His voice low and husky, it drips with seduction. “Are you okay?” “Not really, I saw my mom today. She has early onset Alzheimer's. So yeah.” “Oh God, I’m so sorry, Ava. If I could take your pain, I would.” “Just speaking to you helps. I just feel so alone sometimes.” “You’re not alone.” “It’s just with Alexandre…” “Find someone who loves you for who you are. You deserve nothing less than

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perfection.” His words come out slowly and with resolution. “I just don’t know. I’m scared.” My voice is low as I speak into the phone in a hushed tone. “What are you scared of?” “I’m scared that no one else will love me. I’m not perfect. I have flaws.” “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.” His exhale echoes through the phone. “The truth of our character is defined by our defects. It’s like that painting we saw ‘Imperfect Truth.’ Is she any less beautiful, any less perfect, when you see her flaws?” His words have truth, and he makes me hold onto hope. “You leave me speechless, Ryder, utterly speechless. How do you always know exactly the right things to say?” We’re both quiet, and all that is heard through the phone is our breathing.

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“I saw you yesterday and already I miss you more than you know. Meet me tomorrow.” “I don’t know if I can.” “You can and you will. Now be a good girl for me and go to sleep.” His voice is bewitching. “Okay,” I say through a smile. I hear the phone go silent on Ryder’s end, so I hang up. I hurry back into my bedroom, and I crawl back into bed. Sleep finds me, immediately.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING I wake to my phone ringing…Jules. “Hey, what are you doing?” Jules asks. “Being a complete lazy ass. You woke me up. What is wrong with me?” “Nothing, if I didn’t have to be in the office I wouldn’t.” She pauses then starts up again.

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“Why don’t you get your pretty ass up and meet me for lunch,” she muses. “Or I can stay here.” “Or not.” She’s infuriating, but I love her. She knows exactly what I always need. “I was thinking Fred’s.” She’s baiting me. She knows that Fred’s at Barney’s is my favorite lunch spot. “You suck. Fine maybe I will meet you at Fred’s.” The only thing she could say that is better would be if she told me we would go shopping at Barney Co-op… “Hmm, maybe? Okay, let’s meet at co-op then head up to lunch.” “Dammit, Jules, sold. You don’t fight fair.” “Who needs to fight fair when you have a store like Barney’s to bribe you with?” “Touché…so how long do I get you today? Short lunch? Long lunch? You have any meetings?” I pray she says no.

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“Nope, it’s fun Bellini time.” Happiness rushes through me with the prospect of an afternoon of drinking with Jules. “Bellini time, challenge accepted.” We arrange a meeting place and time. As I hang up, my phone rings again. Without checking the caller ID, I answer. “Oh my God crazy girl, I said I would meet you.” I giggle. “Actually, it’s me,” I hear Alexandre say, and instantly I’m on alert. “I just wanted to let you know we have dinner with my parents next weekend.” “When did your father get back into town?” Alexandre’s father runs the business. He’s never around. Often traveling, they say for business, but I have my doubts. I wonder if he has a younger version of Lenore in every city. “He actually isn’t, he’ll be arriving back from London on Friday. So we’ll be doing dinner the following Saturday.”

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Great. Many feelings run through me…joy isn’t one of them. I can’t hide my displeasure, so instead of speaking and risking having to get into it, I settle for just one word. “Okay.” “Make sure you put it on the calendar,” I roll my eyes at the phone, “and I won’t be home ‘til late tonight.” I start to get upset, imagining he’ll be out with Natasha, but then my mouth becomes parched as my thoughts drifts off to brilliant cerulean eyes. “So does that mean no dinner?” The words come out clipped, already knowing the answer. My mind battles an internal struggle. Let the anger surge or get lost in the sapphire that penetrates my soul? “No, I won’t be eating at home.” My thoughts have already wandered. I barely mumble the words as I am about to hang up. “Okay. I guess I will see you later.” “Bye,” he mutters as the line disconnects.

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My phone has officially become grand central station as it chimes in my hand again, indicating a text message has come through. I see a message from Ryder, and I instantly forget my conversation with Alex. Ryder: I miss talking to you. Me: Awe, I miss you too. Me: What are you doing? Ryder: Just writing, you? Me: Meeting my friend for lunch, but then I’m alone the rest of the night I wait and hope he takes the bait. Ryder: I should be writing but I can’t write. I need to see you. This need I have for Ryder has become all consuming; it infiltrates every aspect of my being.

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Me: I need to see you, too. Ryder: Meet me tonight. This is it. The moment… Me: Ok.

IT’S AFTER 1 PM when I make my way into Barney’s, one of my favorite department stores in the city. On the 9th floor they have their world famous restaurant, Fred’s. I’m dressed in a short, black, eyelet dress and cropped, tight-fitting jean jacket. Wearing a pair of black flats, my petite frame is even more noticeable. My lack of curves and this particular dress make me appear to be in my early twenties as opposed to twenty-nine. I wouldn’t be surprised if they card me today when I order a cocktail at lunch.

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I open the heavy glass doors. The first thing I notice is how chaotic the ground level is. Looking around the room, I see bright florescent bags lining the walls. To the left the display is different, hangers hold clutches with clothes pins. This is why people come, not only is it the most cutting edge fashion, but the presentation is always unique and inspired. I make my way to the 8th floor and step out into the minimalistic space. The floors, the walls, and the fixtures are all white. It has an industrial feel as the clothes hang from metal rods throughout the room. I let my eyes wander, and I find Jules standing in front of Lucite shelves that house jeans. She’s rummaging, on a mission to find her size. She has no idea I’m approaching. “Hey there, killer,” I say from behind. She is so startled that she drops the jeans she is holding on the floor.

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She gives me an evil glare as she bends down to pick up the lost merchandise. “Do you mind? I’m trying to shop.” She shoots me a nasty look. “When are you ever not? Seriously, I’m thinking of staging an intervention.” “Ha ha ha, aren’t you super funny today?” “Cranky much?” “Actually I’m really hungry. And surprise, surprise they don’t have my size,” she says as she puts down the items. “I’m not surprised, you’re freaking five foot eleven, and weigh what, two pounds?” “You are so funny.” She scrunches her nose and looks me up and down. “What about you prairie girl, you look like you’re five.” “I happen to think I look…” I throw my hands in the air, “You know what? I do look like I’m five.” I laugh. “Are you done shopping, Jules? I’m starving.”

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“Sure, why the hell not.” She winks at me. We head up to the 9th floor and into Fred’s. The waitress walks to our table. She is adorable, blond hair and blue eyes. She looks like she belongs on a farm…In my prairie dress. She opens her mouth and with a southern drawl asks what we are having. We both decide on a Bellini and Fred’s Salade Niçoise. She smiles, or more like beams, at us and practically skips away. We sit there in silence for a minute, and when I can no longer fight the urge I blurt out, “Okay, Jules,” I think about my words, “here’s the deal. I met someone.” “What? What do you mean you met someone?” She looks at me curiously as I speak. “Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.” My face flushes, abashed at my prior outburst. “Umm, start.”

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“Ok, so he’s a writer, I met him online.” “What the fuck do you mean you met him online? Oh my God, are you one of the girls who trolls the Internet picking up men? Yuck, Av…how do you even know what he looks like? Yuck.” She sticks her tongue out as she gags. “Oh for crying out loud, I met him.” “Oh my fucking God. You met him?” The sound of her disbelief reverberates through the space between us. “Jules, not like that. He was at the fundraiser. We just bumped into each other.” “Ava,” her voice raises an octave, “that was a week ago. Why am I just hearing about this now?” “First of all…it was three days ago, not a week…plus.” “Plus?” she counters in question. “Well, I don’t know, I kind of thought you wouldn’t understand. You don’t really read,

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so I didn’t think you would understand my attraction to him.” “To be honest I don’t. I don’t get it at all.” “He’s kind of a celebrity to me. It started up as just talking online. Then we met at the fundraiser and he asked me to meet up to discuss his new book. We ended up going out for drinks, he almost kissed me, and then, well, that’s it.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold up, kiddo. Almost kissed you?” Jules is now looking at me with intrigue, and maybe a little awe. “Oh my God, it was the hottest thing that has ever not happened to me.” “Wow.” Her mouth hangs agape. “I know.” “So, now what?” She holds her hands up shaking them with enthusiasm. “I don’t know. We’re meeting for dinner tonight.” “And then. Then what’s your plan?”

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“I haven’t thought that far.” I shrug my shoulders. “Well, don’t you think you should have a game plan? Are you planning to leave Alexandre?” “No, I don’t know,” I sigh, “I just haven’t been happy for a long time. I feel so alone. I know I have you, but it’s not the same. He makes me feel special. He’s so attentive. He listens. Jules, he’s wonderful.” “So what do you know about him other than that?” “Honestly not much. To be honest we really only talk about me,” I answer as I contemplate her question. “Don’t you find that strange?” Her eyes are inquisitive as she speaks. “Not really.” “Listen, just be careful.” “I know,” I say while biting down on my lower lip. “So, dinner?”

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“Yeah.” “Are you planning on wearing that prairie dress?” She smirks. Asshole. “Actually, yes, smart ass.” “Ha, poor man. You look like a dirty farm girl. He’s fucked.” “So what are you doing later?” I ask. “I think I might meet Gabe for a cocktail.” I smile at the reference of Gabe. He is Jules’s friend. They grew up in the city together. I think they should date. “That should be fun.” I grin. He is smoking hot. “Shut it.” She laughs out. She’s cute when she is trying to be mad. Our meal continues in the usual fashion. Lots of jokes, a few drinks, and I find myself slightly tipsy at 3:00 pm on Monday afternoon.

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Me: I can’t wait to see you. I think of you constantly. Do you think of me? The moment I push send, I start to come out of my drunken haze and fear sets in. Oh my God, did I really just text him that? Ryder: You occupy my thoughts all the time. Relief floods me, pathetic relief. I’m a forgone conclusion; I’m obsessed. Me: So are we still on for tonight? Ryder: Do you want to see me tonight? Me: Yes. Ryder: Then you get me. Ryder: 5 pm meet me at the Bryant Park Hotel. We can make a plan from there.

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Excitement, trepidation, and fear flow through me. Seeing Ryder again is almost too much to handle. I decide to walk to Bryant Park as opposed to going home and then heading back out. The nervous energy within me needs an outlet. Lucky for me, the weather is beautiful. The city is vibrant and alive. Tourists flood the streets looking to be part of something special, to experience New York City at its finest. As I walk down 5th Avenue, I appreciate the views all around me, the immaculate windows, the timeless architecture, the trees peeking out from Central Park. I pass the Plaza Hotel and smile to myself as I remember the first time I laid eyes on Ryder. What should have been an awful night was full of surprises and new beginnings. I remember how he smiled and slight creases formed around his blue eyes. I remember the way his voice dipped low with hunger. I remember

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all the words he said to me that night and how they resonated truth.

AS USUAL, I’M punctual, but it seems Ryder is early. I catch a glimpse of him as I walk toward the hotel. His impeccably sculpted body is leaning against the glass wall. His foot is propped behind him, resting on the metal beam supporting the entrance to the building. His coppery brown hair reflects the sunlight, and his eyes are shut as if he is deep in thought. He flutters them open. Our eyes lock as his mouth turns up with a wicked smile hinting of carnal sin. As I approach him, his hands pull me in, and he engulfs me

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in his embrace. He smells of crisp leather and cinnamon spice. If I could live in his arms, I would. I never want to leave the comfort I feel here. “Ava,” his words caress me. “Ryder,” I breathe through an unsuppressed smile. He pulls away but still holds my hand. His fingers gently rub circles over my tiny knuckles. “So sushi? You like sushi, right?” Ryder asks. I nod. “Great.” I take a second to appreciate the view before me. My eyes start at his shoes and work their way up. Ryder is wearing a pair of camel colored leather drivers, dark distressed jeans, a grey fitted dress shirt, and a textured navy herringbone sport coat with a stone grey handkerchief peeking out. He resembles a sexy professor. If he wore glasses, I would die and go to schoolgirl heaven. “Like what you see?” He smirks.

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I smile at him with a coy look, helping fuel the fantasy playing out in my head. “Let’s head to the bar at Koi and grab a cocktail before dinner,” he says. Still holding my hand, he pulls me into the Bryant Park Hotel. We walk through the simplistic lobby only decorated with blood red furniture and black terra cotta floors. Further into the building, we see the sign for the restaurant. We walk through the entrance and are instantly transported to the Far East. Along the walls are plush greenery and bamboo trees. Lights twinkle from above, as tea lights are strategically placed to add to the ambience. The floors are a dark wood. It conjures up feelings of inhabiting some exotic locale. Ryder places his hand on my back as he escorts me to a booth positioned directly across from the red bar that illuminates the room. I nervously sit down crossing my ankles as I feel him gently place his hand on

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my knee. A waitress approaches us and smiles brightly. She is noticeably paying closer attention to Ryder than to me. I laugh to myself. Apparently I’m not the only one digging the hot professor look. “Hello, my name is Bridgette. Will you be joining us for dinner or just drinks?” Ryder turns to me. “Ava, would you like to eat here, or do you want to have a cocktail then sit in the main room?” I nervously smile at him. I think about what would happen if we bumped into someone we knew here. I think we’re safe as Bryant Park is more popular with a younger crowd. I know Lenore would never be caught dead here, and I’m not concerned about Alexandre as he doesn’t eat sushi. I slowly nod my head as I decide my answer. “Here is fine.” Bridgette beams with excitement. She must need tips. “Great. What can I get you guys to drink to start with?”

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“Ava?” “What martini are you famous for? I always forget.” I inquire. “Yes, we are famous for our signature Koi Lychee Martini. Is that what you want?” I nod, and she turns her attention back to Ryder. “And for you, sir?” Ryder doesn’t take his eyes off me as he speaks. “What brands of scotch do you have?” “We have Glen Livet, Glen Fiddich, Macallan.” Ryder cuts her off mid-sentence. “Do you have any Johnny Walker?” “Yes.” She bats her eyes. “What label do you have? Do you have blue?” “Yes, we do,” she purrs. “Okay, Lychee Martini for the lady, and Blue for me,” with that he dismisses her and turns back to me.

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“You look absolutely beautiful today, Ava.” The way he says my name takes my breath away. “Thank you, Ryder. So what did you do today?” I ask him. “Other than wonder when I will get to see you again?” “Yes, other than that.” “Well, really that is all. I spent a lot of time thinking about what you were doing, Ava.” He pauses, his voice becoming deeper, full of need. “Thoughts of you consume me.” His crystal blue eyes bore into mine. The emotions I feel to the words he speaks are pulling me in a million directions. My thoughts are all jumbled in my head. I don’t know which way is left or right. Which way is up or down. As I ponder his statement, his gaze continues to sear through my soul, tearing me apart. I’ve never felt this way before. I smile as I try to right myself.

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“You sparkle when you smile. You should smile more. You are truly remarkable.” “Thank you Ryder, hearing you say that, well,” I stutter, “hearing you say that, makes me want to…” “You should spend every second of everyday smiling.” I soak in his words and close my eyes. “I want to know what you are thinking,” he says as I shake myself out of the haze. “I was just thinking about how you take my breath away. I wish I did the same to you.” “You do. You truly do.” His voice is soft as if he’s trying to comfort me. Ryder, in the few weeks he has known me, has mastered the art of sensing what I need from him. He always seems to gauge my mood precisely. Obviously sensing I’m feeling emotionally exhausted from this exchange, he decides to propose a toast, an official segue to a new topic. I banish my

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thoughts and switch directions in the conversation. “So, Ryder, tell me a little about your new book.” “Well, it’s about a beautiful woman who is tremendously unhappy in her marriage and becomes susceptible to the advances of a man who is not her husband.” “That doesn’t sound so bad.” “Well, you don’t know that, Ava.” He pauses his eyes unreadable. “The ending has yet to be written." I quietly will myself not to hyperventilate. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I cannot will myself to speak. My voice has been rendered useless. “Silence has its own voice, Ava. Sometimes the most profound statements are not said, but rather felt.”

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Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My walls come crashing down. I feel as though I’m living in a dream. This could not really be happening to me. I feel like I’m suffocating. His passion is boundless, I want to capture this moment and hold onto this feeling forever. The waitress chooses this moment to return, and I welcome the interruption. She brings over our first round of drinks, and we sit quietly as we wait for her to set the cocktails down and leave us. As she walks away, Ryder focuses his attention back on me. “I want to make you laugh,” he states, matter of fact. “You do?" “Yup,” his voice is playful, teasing me. The creases in his eyes form again. God that smile.

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A soft laugh finds passage through my lips. “That sound, Ava…it heals my splintered soul.” He smiles again, but this time it doesn’t touch his eyes. I’m curious about why, and I’m instantly reminded about what Jules said in regards to what I know of Ryder. My curiosity is forgotten instantly as we both reach for drinks and our hands touch. I blush at the contact. Ryder holds up his glass, and we toast to new beginnings and finding our own type of perfect. I tilt the martini glass toward my lips and start to consume my cocktail. Our banter turns light and playful. We talk about my blog. We discuss how to promote his work. He gets all the dirt on my living with Jules. I tell him the story about how Jules and I were almost crushed by a laundry basket gone rogue. “We were sitting on the floor in our sorority house our sophomore year. I think we

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might have been pre-gaming before going out. Wow, it feels like so long ago. Out of nowhere, someone down the hall slammed the door to their room. I shit you not the walls through the whole house rattled. And then out of nowhere, the laundry basket from the top shelf of our closet came flying down…it must have weighed fifteen pounds, minimum. It missed our heads by inches. After the shock wore off, we busted into the most hysteric fit of laughter ever. To this day…we talk about the laundry basket gone rogue.” Ryder lets out a chuckle, and then I continue to talk, telling him how I dream of writing, and he gives me words of encouragement. He encourages me to only write the truth, no matter how ugly it is. He says that writing is the only time you can ever really purge your sole in its entirety. He thinks that being perfect is boring and that we should strive to do one thing imperfect every day.

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After about an hour we signal to the waitress and proceed to order sushi and appetizers in the lounge. We order another round of cocktails. We are now two cocktails deep, and I’m sure this will kick up the flirtation. My inhibitions are dialed down a notch, maybe even two. At this juncture, I feel young, free and alive. Bridgette brings over our food. The presentation is impeccable. The innovative approach to the culinary experience sets this restaurant well above the norm. The fragrance is enticing, and my mouth waters with anticipation. My senses kick into overdrive as I taste the succulent foie gras and seared tuna with white truffle oil. I’m in culinary heaven. The meal is extremely pleasant as Ryder makes funny quips between bites. I try to laugh as often as possible without embarrassing myself. However, the more drinks I consume, the less concerned I am with what is prim and proper, and I laugh even with a

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mouth full of food. I laugh through the whole meal, completely enthralled with the stories from his life. His stories give me a glimmer of the man behind the words. The more I get to know him, the more captivated I am. After the food is gone, and the table is cleared, Ryder looks at me with pensive eyes. This is the turning point in the evening. Should I go home or stay and have another drink? “Would you like to have another drink, Ava?” I have no choice. I need to please him. I need to say yes. Right from the beginning it was inevitable. From the first glance, he has had an irrevocable hold on me, and at that moment I decide I’m going to learn to live again. We walk hand in hand to the stairs that lead to the lounge down below. The bar that is housed in the cellar of the hotel radiates sensuality. The baroque style of design is in

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complete contrast to the gothic architecture. It’s a perfect marriage of elegance and decadence. It has a completely different feel to the rest of the hotel. Here there is music and dancing. As we head over to the bar, Ryder pulls me by the hand, and we step onto the dance floor instead. The vibe is electric, as the patrons rhythmically move to the music. I close my eyes, allowing the beat to permeate my consciousness. Ryder pulls me toward him, swaying his body with mine. We slowly begin to dance. The warmth that emanates from his body is a beacon to my soul. As our bodies touch, sexual tension radiates between us. We move together in perfect sync. Our breath is coming out in short, ragged bursts. I feel sexy. I feel liberated. I feel free. Desire courses through me. This is all Ryder. He keeps me in a perpetual state of

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need. Sensing my urgency, he looks at me with an expression that sends chills down my spine. His need to consume me is palpable. He leans into me, breathing me in. I can feel the warmth tickle against my neck. My heartbeat becomes more erratic. His hand trails circles down my back, stroking lower and lower. He grazes the swell of my hip as I glide my fingertips up the side of his body. I stroke his torso ever so lightly as we continue to dance. Trailing my hands past his collarbone, I wrap my arms around his neck. I look up at him, and he smiles at me seductively, the curve of his mouth lifting so that it is barely noticeable. "I want to taste you." His voice is husky. I bite down on my lower lip as I take in his words. His fingertips trace the end of my black eyelet dress. "I want to taste every part of you,” he says again in my ear, this time slower as his hand creeps under the hem. My skirt pushes

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higher up my leg as we continue to move our bodies against one another. I stop moving and just stand there panting, feeling dizzy with need. I’m hyper aware that his fingers are now tracing circles on the upper part of my thigh. They are almost connecting to the cotton covering my most intimate place. On an exhale, he touches me so softly, I feel as though I might have just imagined it. As he grazes my sensitive flesh on the top of my legs, my breath hitches. I’m frozen in place knowing I need to stop this, but I’m unable to pull away. His eyes penetrate mine, daring me to stop him. But just as quickly as this game has started, it ends as he pulls his hand away. “No, not yet. I want you to be only mine. Your thoughts, your body, your every desire. Until you’re ready, I won't kiss you, I won't touch you, I won't taste you.” I’ve never experienced a more emotionally charged moment in my life. Every inch

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of my body demands his touch. The anticipation I feel is exhilarating; this rush is a delicious torture. I never want this feeling to subside; I never want it to dissipate. “I wish I could know what it feels like to be yours,” I whisper. “I wish I could fade into you.” He places the softest kiss on my forehead. Being with Ryder is like being a stargazer at a solar eclipse. He renders me blind.

THE BUZZER SOUNDS as I rub the sleep out of my eyes. Alexandre has already left for work, and I’m alone, submerged in the comforts of my bed. The buzzer rings again. Jumping out of bed, I head to the front door. When we had renovated the pre-war apartment, we’d decided to leave the original location of the intercom in the foyer. Not the most convenient location when the doorman is buzzing. “Yes,” I say while holding my finger over the button on the wall.

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"You have a package, Mrs. Harrison." "Send it up please¸ Raymond." I run back into my bedroom and into the bathroom, grabbing my robe that is hanging from a wrought iron hook that matches the decor of the room. My body slips into the robe, and I tie it tightly around my waist. As my hand reaches out to open the door, someone knocks. I assume I’m getting a small package. Maybe it is the pair of shoes I had ordered from Saks Fifth Avenue online earlier this week, but what greets me as I look through the peep hole is quite different. Standing beside the courier is a large crate. I’m perplexed and intrigued as I open the door. "Mrs. Harrison?” “That's me. What do we have here?” "I work for Cameron Philip Gallery. I’ve a delivery for you.” “It would appear you do.” I smile at him.

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I open the door wider, allowing him to enter. The young man who is no older than twenty walks into my apartment and leans the crate against the wall in my foyer. “Let me help you open it, ma’am.” I laugh at his reference to me. “Please don’t call me ma’am, but yes, I would love some help with this. Is that okay?” “I work for the Gallery, that’s what I’m here for.” Reaching into his ripped and paint splattered jeans, he removes a box cutter. As he begins opening my surprise, I wonder what could be contained in such a large box. His muscles flex as he pulls open the crate and lifts the wooden top adjacent to the crate. From his back pocket he pulls out a pair of white gloves that he places on before removing the contents of the box. As he pulls out the painting that lies within, I gasp in surprise.

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There she is, the woman with the haunted eyes, here on this beautiful canvas is beauty implied, the perfection of flaws. The ‘Imperfect Truth.’ The courier steps forward and pulls out a folded note. “Mrs. Harrison, the man who purchased this painting wanted you to have this.” My hands shake a little as I grasp the note tightly. “Would you like me to hang the painting for you m-” He stops himself half way through the word ma’am. I smile at him letting him know his slip is okay; it’s actually welcomed as it lightens my mood considerably. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t catch your name?” “Oh, it’s Michael.” “Michael, I would love if you helped me hang my painting.” I guide Michael into the living room. The whole room is white, the walls, the couches,

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the nail studded tufted chairs. The walls are barren, the only colors coming from the black velvet bench sitting along the far wall. The area rug is grey with a silver leaf pattern woven within. A crystal chandelier sparkles in the center of the room. This painting will be exquisite within this pristine space. The splash of red on her face will add another layer to this lush interior. Michael makes quick work of measuring the large painting and securing it in its place. As I stand in awe in front of my new painting, Michael lets himself out. I stand close to the canvas so that I can admire the fine brush strokes in the closest detail possible. When I regain my composure, I notice I’m still clutching the folded up piece of paper. As I open it, I swear I can smell the familiar cinnamon spice scent I equate with Ryder. It’s obvious to me his intention is to pursue me with reckless abandon. This work of art only cements the

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notion. His ability to read me and make me feel knows no bounds. Being with him is easy. The simplicity is absolute. I fear if I let him go, I will never experience anything like this again. I look down at the note; there is only one sentence on the page.

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I sit in awe, my heart full and beaming with promise. Warmth spreads through me. Ryder exposes me to feelings I’ve never felt before. He makes me feel cherished. When I think of him I’m happy, so content...but I still feel like a part of me is missing, As long as I hold him at a distance…I will never feel complete. Pulling my phone from my robe pocket, I call Ryder. As he says hello, I confess my absolute adoration of him. “You are an amazing man, and I adore you.” He laughs, and the sound warms my heart. “I see you got my little present.” I feel as though I’m falling into an abyss. Emotions flood me, bathing me in warmth. “Ryder, I love her.” And I do. She is everything. She means everything. “I can’t imagine her going to another home.” He pauses. His voice mimics how I feel…smitten. “She belongs with you. You

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have taken over my thoughts. You are perfect to me. When you look at her…remember that every flaw you have makes you more perfect.” “She’s a masterpiece.” “No Ava, you’re a masterpiece. One that is destined to be immortal.” His words draw me closer; they imprison me. “Nothing prepared me for you, Ava. You have infiltrated my soul in a way no one ever has before.” His words are beautiful as they engulf me in his devotion, but in the back crevices of my mind, I’m torn. On the one side is Ryder. On the other is Alexandre—my once perfect Alexandre. It wasn’t so long ago that we were best friends. Every morning we would make love and hold each other, always connected. The changes happen gradually. Alexandre’s father started to travel more and Lenore became a daily fixture in our lives. The happier we became, the more needy she

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became. Over time, the need turned into bitterness. A swift deterioration in Lenore’s behavior occurred right after Alexandre, and I had gotten married. I assumed Lenore would stop hating me once I was part of the family, but it had only fueled her hatred. Alexandre’s need to leave the status quo has led me to resent him, and a vicious cycle has begun. I used to think that saving my marriage was the most important thing, but now the thought of losing Ryder is what breaks me in two. He makes me not think straight. He makes me insatiable. He makes me greedy. He makes me want more. “Can you meet me today?” “Nothing would make me happier” “Okay, great.” I think for a moment of where we can go, where no one will see us. Gramercy Park is

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out, so is the Upper East. As I quietly think, Ryder speaks. “I’ve the perfect spot. Have you ever been to Café Expresso?” “No, where is it?” “It’s on St. Marks Place and 1st Avenue.” I think about the location, and come to the conclusion that there is no way anyone I know would be in that location. “Sounds great! What time?” I beam. “1 pm?” “Great, that gives me enough time to shower.” “Shower, hmm.” Hearing him speak makes my body flush with heat. “Get your head out of the gutter.” “Nope, no can do, the idea of you naked…great, there goes my afternoon.” His voice leaves me in a disoriented haze, making me delirious with delight. “Okay, see you soon.” My giggles echo through the phone.

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“Not soon enough.”

AS I STEP OUT of the cab, my ballet flat narrowly misses a puddle of what I can only assume is sewer water. I want to turn back and thank the driver with all sincerity-not reallyfor his considerate drop off location, but surprise, he is already speeding off down the street. I watch as he almost hits a delivery truck and thank my lucky stars I’ve made it out alive. The scalloped awning says Café Expresso. The café is colorful with outdoor seating. The tiny tables with wicker chairs seem quaint and cozy. On the window next to the door is painted writing, in red, blue and green a list of some of the delectables they serve. There’s even a cute little drawing of a patch of mushrooms and a coffee cup. As I walk closer to

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the entrance, butterflies flutter in my stomach. Opening the door I can hear the bells ringing above my head, the air smells of a perfectly brewed coffee. It’s sweet, yet robust, with tiny hints of chocolate that filter into my nose. I walk in and scan the room for Ryder. After searching for a few seconds, I spot Ryder sitting at a table in the corner. The table is in a small alcove. It’s obvious he has chosen this table because it’s hidden from view unless you stand in this particular location. As I approach the table he rises and walks towards me, meeting me half way to the table. He leans in, and his familiar scent infiltrates my senses. I want to breathe him in forever. He leans down, placing a soft kiss on my lips. I’m taken aback by his forward greeting. I can play ignorant.

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I can pretend this relationship hasn’t crossed the line. I can pretend the signs were not screaming at me from the beginning. But right now as my life is at a crossroads, as I stand on the precipice of a sliding door, all I can do is lean forward, lean into him, close the distance completely, and bask in his aroma. He wraps his arms around me. I feel so small next to him, but yet so protected in his grasp. “Mmm, strawberries, you taste delicious,” he whispers in my ear. My face turns red as I blush uncontrollably. His fingers tease at my collarbone as my breath comes out ragged. “You’re adorable when you blush.” He smiles at me. There’s a wicked gleam in his sapphire eyes. “I don’t feel adorable.” My voice sounds small as it leaves my lips, my eyes cast down to the ground, as I stare at my feet.

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“Well, you are, and you’re also the most astounding woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. You are smart. You are beautiful. You are eloquent.” He tilts my chin up, his gaze pensive. “That’s the problem, Ava. You don’t see what I see, and you don’t see what others see when looking at you. You. Are. Remarkable.” His words come out staccato, and this time I allow myself to believe. “Come on.” He takes my hand in his. I can feel the electricity humming between us as he leads me to the secluded table. “I’ll go get us coffees. Are you hungry?” “I can always eat.” I laugh. “I’d love a cappuccino and whatever you want to eat. Something sweet.” My voice is light, and I emphasize the word love drawing out the ‘o.’ He laughs at my silly behavior, then winks at me before turning toward the counter. I can’t help but watch him as he saunters off across the room. I could watch him move for days. I’m lost in my thoughts

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when he returns and places a steaming hot cappuccino and a fluffy pastry in front of me. They both look divine, but especially the cappuccino. The white foam has a leaf design in the center. It’s almost too pretty to drink…almost. I lift the white porcelain mug to my mouth, the delicious taste flooding me. Placing the mug on the table, I look up at Ryder, my eyes half-mast. He’s trying really hard to hold back a laugh, but finally losing the battle, he chuckles. It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. As he continues to laugh, he raises his right hand and gently wipes my upper lip, collecting the foam that has obviously accumulated there. I giggle, but my amusement is cut short as he raises his finger to his own mouth and licks the foam off. The only sound is the pounding of my heart. It beats so hard I’m sure he can hear

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it. We stare at each other as thoughts and promises are conveyed through our eyes. Silence is sometimes the most perfect sound. A delicious smile spreads across his lips. “You, Ava…you are everything.” “Is this…um, is this normal?” I gesture my hand between the two of us. “Because I’ve never felt this way before.” “None of this is normal, baby, not for me at least.” Reaching across the table, he takes my hand in his. His hand feels possessive. As though he’s staking his claim. I welcome this feeling with all my heart. It feels wonderful for someone to want me like this, to need me like this. Ryder makes me think anything is possible.

A FEW DAYS LATER, I sit on my couch admiring the painting Ryder had purchased for me. Yesterday we had met in the afternoon to have coffee as we had done the day before. We meet at the same café on the Lower East Side as we had met on Tuesday. Every day that passes, we get to know a little more about each other, every day making the need to make a decision more apparent. I cherish the time I spend with Ryder. It’s a welcome reprieve from what I endure at home. As I stare at the swirls of colors, I get

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lost in my own thoughts. That is until I hear my phone ringing from across the apartment. I run to grab the house phone that is hanging on the wall in the kitchen. “Hello?” I hear rustling on the other end of the line, and sounds of objects crashing to the ground. I can hear papers being thrown. My pulse picks up as dread and fear fill my veins. Through the phone I can hear a conversation. My mom’s voice. “I can’t find my keys. Where are my keys? Can’t find my keys, I’ve got to get to work.” “Mom!” I scream into the phone, hoping she can hear me. The sounds coming from the phone become clearer as if it were now placed closer to her mouth. I hear breathing through the earpiece. “Mom, it’s me, Ava.” I speak calmly into the phone, as my heart races.

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“What’s wrong, Mom?” I hear her breathing becoming more erratic as she hears me speak. “Calm down, shh, calm down. Everything is okay. You are okay, shh, it’s okay, you are okay.” My voice is soothing and calm. “Mom, where is Tara? Shh, you are okay, can you get Tara? Inhale, Mom, breathe. Shh.” I hear her breathing start to correct. I reach into my pocket and grab my cell phone. Holding my mom’s call to one ear, I dial Tara’s cell phone. “Hello.” “Tara? Where are you?” “I was just making your mother some oatmeal, and then I stepped out to-” “You need to go find her, she accidentally called me; she is having an episode.” From my other ear I can now here Tara speaking calmly to my mother. Her voice echoes through both earpieces now.

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“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Harrison. I was in the bathroom. I found her.” “Thank you, Tara. I’ll be there as soon as possible.” As I hang up the phones, the dam bursts open, and I fall to my knees on the floor crying. I reach for my cell and dial Alexandre’s number. I hear it ring two times before I’m sent to voicemail. Tears are flowing freely from my eyes, and I sob uncontrollably lying on my dark wood floors. My fingers start dialing on their own accord as I search for comfort. I’m crying so hard I’m hyperventilating. “Ava? Baby? Breathe, baby, breathe baby.” My tears start to diminish. My pulse regulates as his voice calms me. I swipe away the tears. “Where are you baby?” “In my kitchen on the floor.” “I’m coming to get you.”

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“You can’t.” “The hell I can’t.” “I’m okay, I just lost it for a second.” “What happened, baby?” “My mom, it’s just my mom, she accidentally called me.” I pause as my voice cracks. I inhale deeply, calming myself. “I will be okay, I promise, I just wanted to hear your voice.” “Where is Alexandre?” His voice sounds harsh. “I don’t know, he didn’t answer my call.” “He didn’t answer,” I could hear the disdain in his voice and for some strange reason I felt the need to defend my husband. “I’m sure it’s not like that, he had a big meeting this morning. I’m sure it wasn’t intentional.” “Ava, I don’t fucking care what he had going on. If you were mine, this kind of shit wouldn’t happen. I’m not telling you what to do, and this isn’t really the time to lecture

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you but,” he pauses, “you deserve to be with someone who will give you the support you need. You deserve strength, love. You are a beautiful woman, and you deserve nothing short of amazing.” “I’m just not ready. I just, I can’t think about this yet. Can I see you later?” “I can’t. I’ve got to finish this book. I have a deadline.” His answer is short. What did I do? I don’t even know what I did to piss him off, but something isn’t right. I need to know what I did. “Are you mad at me?” “Why? Because I’ve got to work?” There is no mistaking the annoyance in his voice. I don’t understand his tone. He runs hot…then cold. The idea of him being mad at me is too much for me to handle. “You know how important you are to me, right?” “Yes, baby. I do. If you need me call me.” “Okay, so we’re okay?”

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“Yes, baby, talk to you later.” Unease fills every part of my being. I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve disappointed him, that I’ve made him unhappy. The idea of him being upset with me, combined with all the drama with my mother, leaves me in a bad place. My soul hurts; I can’t help but see the negative. I can’t leave it like this. I reach for my phone and type a text. Me: Thank you for being there. Ryder: My pleasure. Hmm. That was a bit short, Oh God, I’m just being paranoid. Shake it off, Ava. No time to worry about this…I’ve to go to my mom’s. As I step out onto the street, the weather mimics my mood. The air is still. The sky is bleak.

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It looks like it’s about to open up and take on a life of its own. People scurry into storefronts, but I make no effort to move any faster, instead stopping on the corner of Lexington and 25th and looking up to the heavens. Black clouds gather above me. The thrill of the darkness feels primal. I revel in the knowledge that in a matter of seconds I will be cleansed by the impending rain. It’s cathartic. The faint familiar sound of the tiny pitter-patter of the drops hitting the pavement sends a chill down my spine. I stand painfully still underneath the eye of the storm brewing above me, embracing the strong currents of energy all around me. In the distance there is a crash of thunder, and the sky flashes white. The ground under my feet shakes from the force of the lightning and then the sky opens and collapses on top of me. The cold, torrential downpour continues, and my clothes are soaked through. The weight of my clothes becomes painful and

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the storm does not cease. But then, just as suddenly as it starts, the storm fades away leaving only a sweet sticky smell in its wake. I feel cleansed…and sopping wet. But most importantly, I feel found. I enter my mom’s apartment looking like a drowned rat. Tara rushes over to me with towels in her hand. My mother is sitting at the round mahogany table in the dining area of her living room. “Hey Mom, how are you?” Her eyes aren’t vacant today. Instead, she smiles up at me. Her smile shows no recognition, but it’s still a smile, that’s something I can work with. I take the seat next to her. “How was your day today, Gail?” When she is in this cognitive state, she fairs better if I act like I’m an acquaintance rather than her daughter. “I had a few patients. One was a child. Poor little thing. She needed to have an IV put in, she was dehydrated from the flu,

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broke my heart,” she speaks to me as if it were thirty years ago, but she is calm, and that makes me calm. “Was she able to go home, or did you admit her?” “Oh lucky for her, we sent her home. Her parents were so concerned. It’s so hard when someone you love is sick. I hope I never have to go through that with my daughter.” My eyes fill with tears, but I wipe them away and smile brightly at her. “Me too. Me too.” I spent the afternoon speaking to my mother. She told me stories from a time before me. Stories that happened years prior, but in her mind just that afternoon. By the time I left her, my heart was full. I walk through the halls of my apartment complex. My clothes are wrinkled from the earlier rain, but I hold my head up high, and secure the walls I need to survive in my life. Reaching into my purse, I grab my keys and

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open the door. I glance around and see Alexandre sitting in front of my painting. Running my fingers nervously along the fine lines and detail of the tarnished key to my sanctuary, I move closer to where he sits. “What are you doing?” I ask as he stares at the fine lines. “Where did you get this?” His eyes are puzzled; his thoughts seem to be weighing him down. “I saw it at the gallery during your mother’s fundraiser.” “I don’t remember you telling me you bid on anything.” “Oh no I didn’t, I came home. But the next day I couldn’t stop thinking about her, and so I called and purchased her.” He looks at the painting then back at me, and I wonder if he believes my story, if he believes the lies I feel myself spewing. I walk past him, no longer feeling the need to explain myself. Walking into the bathroom, I

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turn the water on in the clawfoot tub. I walk around the room lighting tea lights and dimming the chandelier that hangs above to a soft romantic glow. As I strip off my still damp clothes, I pull out my phone and send Ryder a text. I hope he’s in a better mood. Me: Heading into the tub…thinking of you ;-) Ryder Matthews: Enjoy, baby. I smile to myself, placing the phone on the marble countertop, and walk back to the waters beckoning me. I slowly submerge myself in the bliss of the bath and breathe out a sigh. The tea lights flicker and dance on the ceiling, and the smell of lavender fills the room. This is perfection, unequivocal perfection. The tension I’ve coiled up so tightly in my shoulders is released, and I close my eyes. The calm has set in.

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After my bath, I sit on my bed, my computer propped on my lap. It rests against my legs, and I sit upright, resting my back on my large euro pillow. I sign on to Facebook and look over my friends list. Ryder Matthews: Hey, gorgeous, how was the bath? Ava Readsalot: Absolutely divine. Ava Readsalot: Although… Ryder Matthews: Although? Ava Readsalot: It would have been better if I weren’t alone. Ryder Matthews: Oh really? Ryder Matthews: and who pray tell would you have wanted with you? Ava Readsalot: You, of course, silly boy. It’s so easy, being on the computer talking to him. My guard is completely down. When we were together having coffee it felt

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so real, but this, I’m able to let go of all my inhibitions and just be me. Ryder Matthews: The idea of you naked, God what I would do to lick every droplet of water off your body. My body feels hot from this exchange, and as I contemplate my response, Alexandre walks in. Shutting down my computer, I don’t respond, rather I reach over to the glass lamp that sits atop my French provincial side table. I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.

My eyelids flutter as he presses soft kisses across my collarbone. My fingers trail through his unruly hair. My mind focuses and awakens as I realize this is not a dream. My eyes gain their sight and I pull back.

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“You’re so beautiful, Ava,” he whispers into my neck. “Alexandre? What are you doing?” “Ava I need you, I miss you…I miss being inside of you.” A myriad of emotions shoots through me, but the most prevalent is anger. I shoot up pushing him off me. “Now, you want to make love to me? Do you really think that I would just have sex with you?” “I just saw you lying there sleeping, you looked so innocent, and I just thought…” “Thought what?” “You know what, just forget it.” “It’s forgotten.” Shaking my head back and forth, I just can’t fathom his rationale. “I can’t believe you.” His back is already turned away from me. He doesn’t respond. I assume he has already tuned me out.

AS I WAKE THE next morning, my dark and lustrous hair fans across the white pillow. The contrast between the pristine bed and me is noticeably apparent. Looking over my nightstand, I notice the screen on my phone is lit up, indicating I have emails or a text message. Reaching my hand out to grasp it, I bring it back to eye level. It shows on the home screen that I’ve got seven emails and two text messages. Swiping my finger across the screen, I open the phone, type in my passcode, and start to read my mail.

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One from a tour company newsletter. Sign-ups for advanced reader copies, or ARC’s for short, are available for my favorite New York Times best-selling author. I flag the email and make a note to sign up when I open my computer. The rest of the emails are pretty much junk. I hit the center button on my phone to refresh and enter my text messages. Ryder: I miss talking to you. Me: I miss talking to you too. Ryder: What are you doing? Me: Lying in bed. Ryder: Thinking of me? Me: Obviously Lol Ryder: Lol? Me: Of course I’m thinking of you. Me: I’m signing onto the computer, I don’t like talking on my cell. Ryder: I’ll just let you go. Me: Give me one minute.

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He doesn’t respond. I close out my text messages and pull my laptop off the side table and onto my lap. It takes a few minutes for the computer to reboot. I feel like time is standing still. Finally after the longest minutes of my life, my computer loads, and I sign on to Facebook. Using my middle finger to navigate the touch pad, I click on the little icon that looks like a bubble for private messages. I scroll down to the “see all” and find my last message to Ryder. Ava Readsalot: It’s exhausting thinking of you so much. I sit and wait, and I wait and wait some more. After a few minutes, I finally give up and distract myself by posting on my blog page…Favorite Male Author?

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I sometimes set up a post with the idea that I will be able to off-handedly promote his book. As a blogger I can’t play favorites. It would ruin my credibility. So instead I strategically post. I wait for comments to start, and when I see his name tagged, I smile to myself. Mission accomplished. I now have the in I need. I click on the comment, like it, and proceed to gush about how much I love his work. I scroll back to my PMs and check to see if he has seen my message. The bottom of the message I sent says SEEN AT 8:05 AM. I glance at the top right hand side of my computer. 8:07 am. Hmm okay. I type another message to him. Ava Readsalot: Check out my post on my page… ;-) As soon as I type it reads seen 8:08 am A notification window pops up on my screen, an indication that he has liked and commented on the thread.

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Ryder Matthews: Hey, baby! Ava Readsalot: I wasn’t sure if you were busy Ryder Matthews: Never too busy to talk to you. Ava Readsalot: You are too sweet! Ryder Matthews: I saw your post. Thank you, baby. Ava Readsalot: Always my pleasure. Ryder Matthews: : ) Ava Readsalot: Whenever u want. I just want to make u happy. Ava Readsalot: To be completely honest??? Ryder Matthews: Yes, always. Ava Readsalot: Your happiness is all that’s really important to me these days. Ryder Matthews: You’re a good girl. Anyone ever told you that?

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I smile and reposition the computer higher up on my lap to get more comfortable. Ava Readsalot: Yeah. Once or twice LOL Ryder Matthews: Well, you are. Ryder Matthews: Ava, it’s exhausting thinking of you too. Ava Readsalot: We can remedy that… Ryder Matthews: hmmm, and how would we do that? Ava Readsalot: You know how, SILLY! Ryder Matthews: DO I???? Ava Readsalot: Fine. Not going to tell you! Ryder Matthews: Tease! Ava Readsalot: Meet me *begs* I actually pout my lip as if he can see…Weirdo.

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Ryder Matthews: I like it when you beg. Ava Readsalot: HAHA, no, seriously though. Ryder Matthews: Ava, I’m on a deadline. Ava Readsalot: :Ryder Matthews:??? What the hell is that supposed to be ^^^ lmao Ava Readsalot: Oops, hit enter too soon. HA Ryder Matthews: You call me silly? Me thinks YOU are the silly one. Ava Readsalot: This is me being sad :-( Ryder Matthews: aw, poor baby :- ( Ava Readsalot: Put me out of my misery… *begs again* Ryder Matthews: I really like this begging. *considers changing my mind* Ava Readsalot: paaalease Ryder Matthews: LMAO ok, ok, fine. Ava Readsalot: God I <3 U!!!!

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I stare at my computer, shit, shit, shit. Why the fuck is there not an erase button on PM. Oh God. Dying a mortified death. Ryder Matthews: Ditto Ditto? Ditto? He hearts me, too? Oh my God…I’m pathetic. I look over the exchange and realize I’m certainly no longer a twentynine-year-old college graduate. I’ve just reverted back to sixteen. I’m so pathetic. Happy, but pathetic. My mood is so light, I feel as though I’m floating. The smile doesn’t play on my lips, it takes over my whole face. I’m sure my blue eyes are sparkling in delight. Ava Readsalot: Ok so where and when? Great, now I sound desperate. Okay, I’m desperate. I can pretend all I want.

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Ryder Matthews: What about dinner? Ava Readsalot: Hold Ryder Matthews: O-K… I reach for my phone and dial Alexandre’s number. “Alexandre Harrison, here.” “Alex, it’s me.” “Oh, what’s up?” “Hi to you too, Alex.” “Actually, Ava, I don’t believe you said hi, either.” I place my fist to my mouth and hold back the scream that threatens to expel. “Oh God, really?” “Can we please make it through one conversation without a fight?” He says in an undertone. Someone must be in his office. “This isn’t a fight, Alexandre. You will know when we’re fighting.” “Okay. What’s up?”

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“Will you be home for dinner?” My words are toneless. I bite back all my emotions to make it through this conversation. “Actually, I was just about to call you. I’m going out for dinner with Nat.” “What?” I say tightly. “Nat and I are having dinner. She wants to discuss some business with me.” My blood is boiling; I know exactly the type of business she wants to “discuss.” “What business, Alexandre?” The words sound rough in my ears. “Well, I don’t know. Hence the dinner.” I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it perplexed. He is going to dinner with her. What the fuck? Breathing in, I try to calm my nerves. Inhale. Exhale. “Hello? Are you still there?” he questions.

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“Yeah, okay well…” I pause trying to think of something to say. “Oh, can you grab milk on your way home?” "Why do I always have to grab it? That's kind of your job. It's not like you work." My face contorts, my mouth gapes in disbelief. Are you kidding me? I need to hang up before I scream. The anger inside me is all-consuming. Inhale. Exhale. “Okay, well I guess I will see you later,” I murmur into the phone. “Is everything else okay, Ava? You seem out of sorts.” “Wow, really? You seem out of sorts? God,” I growl into the phone. “Fine, I’m fine.” “Is everything okay with your mom?” I can’t believe he can switch gears like this and pretend to care. I want to spew anger at him but opt to just get off the phone.

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“Yes, Alexandre. Okay, well I guess I will see you later then.” I hear him start to say the word ‘bye,’ but I hang up before he can complete his dismissal of me. I throw my cell phone across the bed and scream so loud I swear Raymond the doorman will call the police to come check on me. The anger that fills my veins is venomous. Pure undiluted hatred. Ryder Matthews: So? Ava Readsalot: I’m free. Ryder Matthews: Great. Have you been to Excellent Dumpling House? Ava Readsalot: WTF is Excellent Dumpling House? Ryder Matthews: I’ll take it that is a NO. Ava Readsalot: No, I can’t say that I’ve ever had the privilege of going to “Excellent Dumpling House”

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Ryder Matthews: Don’t knock it ‘til you try it. Ava Readsalot: Fair enough. Ava Readsalot: Time? Location? Details…Hello??? Ryder Matthews: Impatient? 6 pm. Ava Readsalot: That’s so far away Ryder Matthews: Don’t worry, baby. I’m impatient to see you too Ava Readsalot: Can I tell you something?? Ryder Matthews: Always. Ava Readsalot: I love it when you call me baby. Ryder Matthews: Good cause I love calling you it. Ava Readsalot: Thank you, Ryder. Ryder Matthews:? Ava Readsalot: I just feel alone sometimes but then you say things like that…You will never truly understand how much you mean to me.

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Ryder Matthews: You have me, and I do understand because I feel the same way. Ava Readsalot: What do you even see in me? What do you want? Ryder Matthews: I see everything, and I want all of you. I’m completely caught off guard by his comment. These emotions that run through me are so powerful, I feel as though I can almost feel them heal my soul, piece by broken piece. Ryder Matthews: Ok, baby, I’ve got to run. See you later. Ava Readsalot: Ok xoxox Trying to clear my mind of that wonderful and delicious conversation, I click on the email I flagged this morning for the blitz sign-up. I open the link and proceed to distract myself as I type in my straight to Kindle

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address and approve the author’s email in my preferred senders list. But as hard as I’m trying to move on with my day, I can’t. Every comment that has been spoken runs on replay in my mind. I reach for my phone and can’t find it. Where the hell is it? Oh shit. A chuckle escapes as I remember I had thrown it, and it’s lying clear across my king bed. I push the screen down on my computer and lean over to grab my phone. I dial the one person who can always find a way to help me kill time when I just can’t be productive. “Yell-o!” Her pronunciation makes me choke on a laugh. Seriously? “Really Jules? Yellow? Don’t you mean hello?” I say, trying to mimic the tone and inflection of her voice. “I’m sorry, but you are not some eighteen-year-old hipster from Alphabet City. You are not cool enough for hello slang.”

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“I think it works.” I can’t see her, but I doubt she can keep a straight face as she speaks. “Yeah, sooo I’m going to have to go with a noooo. No, you are not.” “Well, I call bullshit. You have no idea what you are talking about.” I can hear the giggle in her voice. “Are you really having this convo at work, Jules?” “Nope.” “Nope?” “It’s Friday, Av. Friday. Do you even know what that means?” “No, sorry, I’m at a complete loss. Please enlighten me, what does it mean?” “It means I’m so not going into work.” Yeah, totally not surprised. “I need distracting,” I whine into the phone. Can I come over? Please?” I beg, drawing out my please.

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“Sure, why the hell not. This lint isn’t so entertaining.” “Okay, I’m coming right over.” “Desperate much?” “Goodbye, Jules.” “Ciao.” I hop off my bed and pull off my silk pajama pants. As I walk, I continue to leave a trail of clothes in my wake. Silk camisole…one cashmere sock…second cashmere sock…It’s like I’m leaving messy breadcrumbs of my former self. I walk to my cabinet and pull out my favorite distressed jeans, white Converse sneakers, and a black thermal. It’s actually a wonder I still have clothes like this in my closet. Lenore would not approve. I brush my hair into a ponytail and reach across the counter to grab my toothbrush. When I’m done, I grab my cross body bag and head out the door. I walk to Jules’s apartment.

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The trees inside the park are exceptional on this spring day. The flowers are at full bloom. Tiny white flowers dance in the breeze. The fresh air rejuvenates me. This is my favorite thing about New York, just walking. Sometimes I walk with no destination in sight, just needing to clear my mind and bask in the energy of the city. As I walk toward my destination, I get lost in my thoughts. My thoughts are all over the place, drifting off to beautiful blue eyes, a wicked smile, and cinnamon spice scent. Yep, I’ve got it bad. My thoughts wander to Alexandre. Thinking of Alexandre can wreak havoc on my day. I refuse to let that happen. Making my way into the building, I give my signature wave to the doorman. I step toward the elevator, and press the call button. Within a second I’m stepping in, the elevator door closes, I'm ascending to Jules floor. Once the

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elevator reaches Jules floor, the doors reopen. Reaching into my bag, I grab the keys and make my way to her door, letting myself in. As I step inside the confines of the foyer, the most ghastly smell hits my nose. I’m not sure why Jules keeps trying to cook, but I sense an intervention is in order. “Oh my God Jules, what is that smell?” I gag. “When I need to think, I cook.” “My God, Jules, what do you need to think about that warrants this?” “You are so mean to me,” she quips back with a pout on her face. “Jules that shit’s GOD awful. It smells like a decaying fish. I might lose my lunch.” “Shut it, you haven’t even had breakfast yet.” I place my hand over my mouth and pretend to gag and throw up.

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“Make it stop!” I throw my hands in the air for emphasis. “I mean really Jules, what the fuck is that?” Jules scrunches her nose at me, shakes her head, and with the most ridiculous annoyed voice she can conjure, tells me what monstrosity she has prepared. “It’s gluten free, sugar free, soy milk cheese cake.” “What the fuck?” My eyes go wide. “That just sounds awful.” “I'm a diabetic in training,” she says in jest. I shake my head. “I mean honestly, couldn’t you just create something normal like everyone else?” “Hello,” she says in the most ridiculously fake British accent I’ve ever heard. I think it’s British, at least. She starts to frantically wave her hands around. I’ve no clue what she is trying to imply. She looks crazy. I mean full-on crazy. She makes the deranged

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look sane. All she is missing is the white straightjacket. “No carbs over here, I’m one tortilla chip away from a button pop,” she spits out. Oh wow. “Jules.” “Yea?” “Yea, so, I’m not sure how to tell you this. Hmm, yea, so soymilk? Yea, that has carbs.” “What?” Her face drops, mouth-hanging open. “Fuck. Let’s get froyo” She looks at the disgusting pie dish that she just slaved over. “I don’t think they sell frozen yogurt this early in the morning dear.” “Okay let’s go get waffles. Oh, I know.” She bounces on her feet like a five-year-old kid in a candy store. “Let’s go to the diner, and get, wait for it, waffles with whip cream, and chocolate chips.” “Okay, so you do know that is a far cry from gluten free, sugar free, soy milk right?’” I laugh at her and shake my head.

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“Oh suck it.” She scowls at me then breaks out laughing. Her smile is so bright it doesn’t just touch her eyes but her soul, too. Sometimes I think she puts on these shenanigans just for my benefit, as if she can sense my mood and just tries to be as silly as possible to counteract me. It works; it always works. Waffles turn into shopping, which turns into lunch, which turns into Tasti D Fro Yo, which turns into a classic day with Jules. My stomach hurts from laughing so hard. Sometimes I wish I could put her in my pocket and just pop her out when I’m feeling down. She is more than my best friend. She is the sister I never had. As I say goodbye, she leans in and gives me a giant hug. She places a soft motherly kiss on my forehead. “Be careful okay? Don’t do anything rash.”

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I smile and nod my head ever so slightly. I step to the curb. My phone starts to vibrate in my hand. Ryder: On my way, I’ll grab a table. Me: Wait, you never did tell me the location. Ryder: Who needs details like that lol Me: *waits patiently* Ryder: It’s off Lafayette btw Canal and Walker. Me: Ok great, see you in a few! A cab pulls up in front of me after a few minutes of waiting. The man driving is older, probably in his early seventies. His white hair is short and perfectly in place. “Where to, miss?” “Lafayette. Between Walker and Canal.” “Ah, going for dumplings?” “Yeah, The Excellent Dumpling, ever been?”

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“Of course, that is a New York staple, well at least if you enjoy seedy restaurants in China Town, where you might be eating cat,” he chuckles, “seriously though it has been around since before you were born, best dumplings in town.” He smiles at me in the rear mirror. His smile is warm and welcoming. “What route would like me to go? Straight down Park?” “Whatever you want, you’re the expert.” He laughs at my assessment. “Yep, been doing this for almost thirty years.” For the next fifteen minutes we drive down Park Avenue as it merges to become Broadway. As we get closer to our destination, he points out a building. “I worked in that building. I was a mail clerk. First real job, actually. God…feels like just yesterday. Had just gotten married…new baby. The stress was unbearable, having to make ends meet. I started working more and more. Crazy time it was. My wife was so wrapped

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up in the baby, and I was so wrapped up in work." Why is this guy telling me his whole life story? I don’t even know how to respond. Only me...only I would get the cabbie who won’t shut up. "We almost didn’t make it. There was this woman who worked in the secretary pool…We were friends, and it was so easy. Too easy. Going home started to feel like a burden. I almost gave up on her…on my marriage.” Oh shit. I should not be hearing this, why is he telling me this? “But then out of nowhere they were forced to do cutbacks, and I got laid off. That’s how I started driving a cab. It’s funny to think about it now. Lucky for me, fate had a hand in it. The years following were hard, but in the end my wife turned out to be my soulmate after all. I just didn’t realize it at

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the time. I was too young and impetuous. Almost ruined the best thing in my life.” Am I being impetuous? No…totally not. This is a totally different situation. “See over there.” He points out the window and again reminisces of a long lost New York. His story is now light and making me laugh. The ride seems like the blink of an eye as we pull up to the location that Ryder had given me. It’s a low building for New York standards. There is a giant green awning that read the name of the restaurant in both English and Chinese. “How much do I owe you?” “$14.75.” Reaching into my purse, I pull out my American Express and swipe it into the cab’s register directly across from me. The driver turns around and smiles. “Thanks for keeping an old man company.” I step out of the cab and walk into the street. Although dusk, the street is full and

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illuminated by the lights from stores. Red neon signs flash in the windows indicating that most of the stores on this street are still open. Chinatown is still alive and bustling. I walk towards the entrance.

AS I APPROACH THE entrance, I notice the dilapidated state of the building. If I had any fear that I might see someone I know here, it is quickly forgotten. Lenore would never be seen in a restaurant of this caliber. The doors swing open and I catch a glimpse of Ryder. I hold my breath. A mix of anxiety and excitement courses through me. The mere thought of being with Ryder again makes butterflies take flight. How will this night progress? Will I fare any different from our previous outings?

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He walks up to me, and my desire takes on a mind of its own as I spring my body into his, wrapping my arms around his neck. He looks down at me, bringing his hands up to cup my face. “You look like—” “Shit,” I cut in. “I was actually going to say you look like an angel…but yeah, I guess shit works.” His laugh echoes through the tiny restaurant. I like this playful side of him. Online he banters freely, but in person he’s more serious, almost brooding. He pulls me in tighter and buries his nose into my neck. I feel the warmth from his lips, the curve of a smile forming. His lips tickle the tender skin where his nose is buried as he whispers, “If I could hold you forever, if I could make you mine, I would.” There is a dark undertone to his words, but I brush it off and bask in his glow instead.

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I slowly pull away from him, and I take that moment to take in the restaurant. These better be some damn good dumplings. I refrain from making a face as I take notice of the mint green subway tiles lining the wall. There are pink, white, and green paper umbrellas hanging from the ceiling. Each has a cherry blossom design running across the borders making its way into the middle. Along the other wall hangs three wooden birdcages. Inside are the most beautiful and majestic creatures. Pink, yellow, and green decorate their tiny bodies. They chirp frantically every time the door opens. I look to my left and take notice of something that has me perplexed. There above the register is a shelf. It appears to have a shrine sitting on top of it. The shrine is an incense stick holder and an orange. There are a few other objects and I stare it with questions in my eyes.

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“The shrine is a Chinese custom. The objects are there to honor the deceased.” I nod at him with understanding. He laces his fingers through mine as he brings me to the table he was sitting at before I arrived. I take a seat at the emerald green table, and Ryder sits across from me. “This is quite the restaurant.” I laugh. “Well, you’re a classy girl. Only the best for you, baby.” He winks. “Are there even menus?” “Of course there are menus. They also have a dim sum cart.” He shakes his head at me in disbelief. “Wow, a dim sum cart?” I tease. “Shut up.” He smirks. “Okay, so what do we get here? Other than the obvious.” “Well, they have the best dumplings in the world. And I get Peking duck.”

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“Best dumplings, huh? You know that is a bold statement? Care to put your money where your mouth is?” I say lyrically. “What do you have in mind?” His voice drips with sensuality, while he shoots me a wicked smile. “Get your head out of the gutter.” “No can do. I reside there.” A rumbling laugh escapes. “I was thinking if they suck I buy you dinner.” “So let me get this straight. If the restaurant that is known for having the best dumplings in the world has crap, then you buy me dumplings?” “Yeah, so how do you like your odds?” “I should just hand you my credit card,” Ryder says as he reaches into the back pocket of his distressed jeans. “You’re so funny, Ryder.” I blatantly roll my eyes at him. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

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“Yup.” I wink at him “You’re in trouble later.” His words blaze with heat. Is it getting hot in here? “Promise?” One can only hope. “Yes.” I feel fidgety. My fingers rim the edge of the cup, making circles around the circumference. I take a tiny sip. After I place the glass down, I turn to Ryder. “So tell me a little bit about yourself.” “What do you want to know?” His face grows serious. “Anything, you don’t really talk about yourself much.” “No, I don’t.” There is an undertone in his voice I can’t put my finger on. “So…” “I would much rather talk about you.” I can tell he’s sidestepping, but I’m desperate for more info so I press on. “Are you from the city?” “No.”

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“Okay, so where are you from?” I can’t quite put my finger on his accent. “Jersey,” he mutters. “Really, you don’t really have a Jersey accent.” “And you’re the expert on accents, now?” His voice is clipped. I feel uncomfortable all of a sudden. It must have shown on my face as he reaches for my hand to comfort me. He gives my hand a little squeeze. “I’d rather talk about how beautiful you are.” “Not really, but thanks.” “Have it your way.” He laughs, the sound so perfect it makes me melt. It makes me forget my previous discomfort. “So how is the new book going?” I inquire, changing the subject. “It’s actually almost done. Just need the big ‘What The Fuck’ moment, and then it will be finished.”

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“And what, pray tell, is the WTF moment?” This I got to hear. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head over it. You’ll find out when I hit pub.” “Are you doing ARCs this time?” “No, I don’t do ARCs. My work sells itself.” He sounds a bit forceful when he speaks. “I just figured it couldn’t help to give some—” “I’m good. I’m not in the business to give free stuff away.” “No, I totally get it but—” “My fans love me. They will buy my book even if I don’t have opening day reviews.” “Oh, yeah, okay.” “So, did you finish ‘Changing Faces’ yet?” “I did.” “And?” “I loved it. I can’t believe what a depraved man the main character is.” “Depraved, huh?” He chuckles to himself.

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“Yeah, I mean who would do that? Break a woman for, what, sport?” “You would be surprised.” I am taken aback by his answer. I just don’t understand how that could happen. “And worse than that, how did she not know or see it coming?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Well, Ava, quite simply,” he pauses, his gaze unbroken, “people hear what they want to hear.” Just as I’m about to speak, the waiter walks up and asks for our order. Ryder tells him we want dumplings, dim sum, and that we’ll share the Peking duck. I’m happy he took the reins on ordering. It feels good to have someone take care of me. Alexandre never paid enough attention to bother. As soon as the waiter walks away, I start to speak. “So, I’m thinking of going to the Museum of Natural History tomorrow.” “Oh.”

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“Yea, it’s my favorite place on Earth.” He doesn’t respond as I continue on, “Have you been recently?” “Nope, can’t say that I have actually. I’ve been very busy writing. These serials don’t write themselves.” “I just love it there, it’s so much fun. It makes me feel like a kid all over again.” “Yeah.” “Or you know what I can do instead?” “Hmm?” “I can write your review.” “Yes, that might be a better way to spend your time…sitting in your bed with your computer thinking of me.” I can’t tell if he is joking or not. His face shows no emotion whatsoever. “Seriously though, it might take me all day to write.” I try to bait him to get him to talk. My latest quip seems to work. “Well, my work does that. It makes people think. If it didn’t take you all day, I

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would be concerned that you didn’t get it. That you didn’t get me.” “What inspired the book?” I ask, hoping to engage him in talking about himself some more. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that, as I said before although not based on anyone in particular, there is truth to all things I write.” “Did that really happen to someone you know?” “I can’t tell you that silly. That goes against patient doctor confidentially,” humor laces his voice. “Well you aren’t a therapist, so…” “Aren’t I, though?” he states matter-offactly. “Do people just tell you their problems?” He pauses and lines in his forehead form. “Yes, people do open up to me quite a bit.” I think over the last few weeks and what I’ve told him. His statement is completely accurate. Even I’ve told him things I’ve never

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told anyone else. He just makes me feel so comfortable, and he is so damn intelligent, I can’t help but seek his advice. “I imagine they do.” Out of nowhere the waiter arrives back at the table and places a bamboo basket in front of us. As Ryder lifts the top off, the smell of the dumplings hits my nose. I’ve never smelled anything so delicious. My mouth waters instantly. Grabbing the chopsticks, I take a dumpling and place it in my mouth. This is no joke. It’s a taste explosion. The pork, ginger, and garlic work together to make a symphony in my mouth. As soon as my mouth is empty, it misses the taste. “Well it looks like dinner is on you,” I beam at him. “That good, right?” His face has a smug smile on it. “Oh my God, yes.” “Did you ever doubt me?”

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“Well,” I laugh, “actually no. I’ve never doubted you.” “Good girl.” We eat in relative silence, only stopping to note just how amazing the food is. When the check comes, Ryder laughs and pulls it away from the middle of the table, mumbling about how I never should have doubted him. I joke that he is all-knowing and that they should erect statues in his honor. He agrees. After he pays, we stand and he places his hand on the small of my back. “Will I see you tomorrow?” My voice sounds needy…I hate that I can’t hide my desperation “Maybe,” he replies and loneliness starts to envelop me. “What will I do without you?” My lip drops to a pout. “Well, you can stay home and write your review.” I smile at him.

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“Seriously.” “Okay, silly man.” I roll my eyes as I make my way out the door. As we walk outside, I can feel my blood coursing through my veins. I don’t think my heart has ever pounded so hard in my life. I can feel the sexual tension pulsating in the air. I’ve never wanted anything more than to feel his lips on mine. I make a split decision and turn to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. My fingers start to twirl in his coppery locks as we lock eyes. There is something in his gaze that I can’t put my finger on, almost predatory. I try to decipher it, but I am quickly lost in his touch as his arms wrap around my back. “Ava…” His voice is a warning, but I don’t heed it. Instead, I lift onto my tippy toes and place my lips on his. A groan escapes him as I press my body into his.

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“Just a little taste,” he says as his lips meet mine. A current passes between us. I lose myself in his kiss. The warmth of his mouth, his soft lips, I’m lost. I feel him nip my bottom lip as he pulls away and just like that the moment vanishes. “Ava, not until you’re mine,” his voice comes out ragged through labored breaths. Dejected, I look to the ground. “I should go,” I stutter. He lifts my chin, and I can see every sapphire speck in his eyes. “Soon,” he promises.

THE NEXT DAY Ryder never contacts me. Not once all day. Thoughts of what he is doing consume me. I’m overwhelmed with the anxiety that often plagues me. As Alexandre wanders out of the room and into the hallway I pay him no notice. Only concerned with watching my phone, I sign into

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messenger…nothing. His name is there lit up in green. My finger hovers over his screen name. Breathe. Closing the app down, I breathe in another giant breath of air trying to calm myself. I’m grappling with the idea of saying ‘fuck it,’ and just sending him a message. Nope not going to do it. Still green…Damn it, what is he doing? Why isn't he texting me? I imagine the possibilities for his avoidance. Maybe our dinner wasn’t as fun for him as I thought. Maybe he’s upset with me for kissing him when he obviously didn’t want me to. Maybe something happened to him. Maybe he’s been abducted by aliens? I make a decision to stay strong and not send him a PM or text, or a message in a bottle. Instead, I sit on my couch, phone in hand, and micro-manage his every movement on Facebook. It’s official. I’m insane. My Facebook screen updates, and there it is under new stories. He has posted a

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comment. FUCK. Why isn’t he talking to me? Me: OMG!!! I’M SO FAR GONE. I think I need to be checked in to a looney bin. Jules: Oh geez…what did you do now? Me: Nothing……I’m totally crazy! Jules: NO JUDGEMENT…TELL ME! Me: Ok I might be stalking him…Why are you friends with me? I need serious help. Jules: Oh, Ava, We wouldn't get along like this if we didn't have our own set of crazy. I busted out laughing….Ain’t that the truth. I look at Alexandre from across the room. I’m repulsed, disgusted. Disdain fills me. I can barely stand to be in the same room as him. I imagine what it would be like to kiss Ryder again. To feel his hands caress my neck with passion. To feel his mouth as he

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devours me. As I’m sucked deeper into my fantasy, I’m ripped out by Alexandre’s voice saying God dammit in the distance. Jules: Seriously though, where’s Alexandre during all this stalking? Me: Here, but Lord knows what he's doing. He’s pacing around the apartment like a crazy man. He’s pissed about something. As if on cue, Alexandre yells from the other room, “Ava!” Me: BRB, crazy man calls. I jump off the couch and head toward Alexandre’s voice. I find him pacing the kitchen. He can almost scuff the wood with his movements. His hands are running through his short brown hair, which is now a disheveled mess. “What’s up?”

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He doesn’t answer, just continues to pace. “You’re kind of scaring me,” my heart starts to race uncontrollably. I wonder if I had left my computer open. I wonder if someone has seen me. I feel like my chest is going to explode as he doesn’t say anything. His hand fists, and he presses it into his mouth. A silent scream. “What the fuck is going on?” “My dad.” He huffs. “What about your dad?” “It’s a long story, I don’t have time to tell it.” Of course he doesn’t. “Okay. Whatever, obviously, why would you tell your wife anything?” “You know what? I can’t take this shit from you today, I’m dealing with enough fucking bullshit at work.” He pauses and places his hand on his forehead. “I’m going out of town tonight. I’ll be back Monday or

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Tuesday depending on how this deal goes through.” “Oh. I just—” “Honestly Ava. Please don’t, I’m stressed enough without having to think about fighting with you.” His voice is soft, remorseful, and I see a glimmer of the Alexandre I used to know, that I used to love. He looks sad, and a part of me wants to take his pain away, but I feel so far gone, I just don’t know how anymore. Alexandre has never been one to talk openly about business. I know it’s hard on him to be under the thumb of his father. I used to try to help him, but he doesn’t like to discuss it. He used to say it wasn’t to burden me, but like everything in life he chooses to sweep it under the “rug” instead. “I’ve got to head to the airport, I’ll call you later, okay?” “Yeah, sure okay. Have a safe flight, Alex.” I walk up to him and give him an

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awkward kiss on the cheek. I scurry out of the kitchen as fast as humanly possible. What the heck was that about?

NOW SITTING ALONE in my apartment, I can’t help myself. I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I send Ryder a message. Ava Readsalot: I haven’t spoken to you all day, are you okay? God, he renders me useless. I don’t even know what to do as I wait. I start to pace aimlessly around the apartment. Holding my phone in my hand, I turn on the light. I look for my Kindle. Okay I look for my Kindle to keep up the pretense that I’m searching for something. What I’m searching for is Ryder, and I realistically can’t fool myself. I see that the message has been delivered. I even see that he read the message. Seen at

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4:05 pm. Ryder is just choosing not to respond. I'm crawling out of my skin, why won't he answer? I can’t take it anymore. I give in to myself and send another message. I think of something he has to respond to. Something that leaves him no choice. Ava Readsalot: Totally doing a contest for your book on my page, spread the word. Seen 4:26 pm Ryder is typing… Ryder Matthews: Thanks, baby! Ava Readsalot: I missed you. Ryder Matthews: I miss you too. Ava Readsalot: How is the book? Ryder Matthews: Coming. Ava Readsalot: Do you need inspiration?

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Ryder Matthews: What do you have in mind? Ava Readsalot: Plans tonight? Ryder Matthews: No can do, sorry. Ava Readsalot: :- ( Ava Readsalot: I wish I could do something to help. Ryder Matthews: Your smile inspires me… I click my finger over the little tiny camera, and snap a picture of me smiling. Ryder Matthews: Beautiful. Ava Readsalot: Thanks Ryder Matthews: Ok baby, I’ve to go write. Ava Readsalot: xoxo all my <3 The feeling of relief that floods me is not natural. Although a short conversation, it reassures me in ways that only Ryder can. I

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pick up the phone and call Jules. We shoot the shit for a few minutes but ultimately I decide to stay home alone and cuddle up with my Kindle and a glass of wine. A few hours pass, and I’m curled up in my bed, reading my Kindle. After my first glass of Burgundy, the aroma of the rich liquid beckons me to indulge some more. Alexandre would cringe if he knew I had a bottle of wine in our all white room. I grab the drink, the crimson liquid sloshing in the crystal glass. I turn back in my drunken haze to my reading. The passage in my book is steamy, and the air around me becomes thick with need. I reach for my phone, my hands shaking. Ryder picks up on the third ring. “I wish I could see you,” I plead faintly into the phone. “I know, Ava, but I’m working.”

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“I miss you, I just want…” My words come out jumbled as I stop myself from begging for him to come over. “What do you want, Ava?” The baritone of his words makes me flush. “You. I want you.” “I want you too. I want all of you. I want to feel you quiver and fall apart around me.” A soft moan leaves my mouth. “Do you want that, Ava?” “Yes.” I breathe out. “Do you want me to taste you? Every single inch of your body?” He rasps into the phone. “To feel my tongue licking…” Hearing these words is all I need. My hormones go into overload. A soft cry escapes as my fingertips trail slowly down, softly, stroking gently. “Oh God,” I moan. A light sweat breaking out across my brow. “Can you imagine my fingers teasing you? Dipping inside?”

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As he continues to whisper hushed words of passion, my breathing accelerates, my movements become more choppy, my pace reflects how I feel, fast and reckless. His voice is rich and husky. The silky tone when he speaks brings me closer and closer to falling over into the abyss. My skin pebbles, and a chill runs down my spine. Biting my lower lip, sparks start to form deep into my soul; a fire kindles within me. My breath catches in my throat, my vision blurs. I explode from the inside out. My body shudders, and as my trembling ebbs away, I start to realize what I’d just done. The temperature in the room becomes sweltering as the embarrassment sets in. “I, I have to go,” I stutter. A thunderous laughs erupts through the phone. I want to die of embarrassment but as he continues to laugh I relax to the sound. “Okay, baby, sleep well.” I can imagine him

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smirking on the other end of the phone as he speaks. “Goodnight, Ryder.” My bashfulness fades away.

A FEW DAYS PASS, and Alexandre is scheduled to be home today, which is Tuesday. The last few days have been invigorating. Without Alexandre in the house, the happiness I feel is abundant. I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to guard my words. I can just be me. I see a notification on the right side of my computer screen, Ryder has commented on a post. Ava Readsalot: Hi! Ryder Matthews: Hey, baby.

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Ava Readsalot: What are you doing? Ryder Matthews: Making a teaser. Ava Readsalot: Want some help? Ryder Matthews: That’s not what I want you for. Ava Readsalot: So what do you want from me?? Ryder Matthews: I want you to live for me. Breathe for me. I want to make you mine. Ava Readsalot: Done, Done, Almost. Ava Readsalot: Well I can't breathe without thinking of you, does that count for anything? Ryder Matthews: Yes, it counts for some but not all Ava. Ava Readsalot: Does it help that thoughts of you consume me, morning day and night. Ryder Matthews: Yes. Ava Readsalot: Does that make you happy?

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Ryder Matthews: More than you know. Ava Readsalot: Good. I capture all his words in my mind, holding them, cherishing them. I know unequivocally, he will be my downfall. My heart is just waiting to be broken. I go to type him this sentiment and notice he’s no longer signed on. Disappointment hits me as I realize he didn’t even say goodbye. My phone rings. “Hi.” “Whoa, what’s wrong with you?” “Nothing.” “Spill.” Her voice is insistent. I have no choice but to let the words flow. “Ryder.” “Who? Really? I thought you told me he was perfect?” “Well, sometimes he just,” I pause then whisper, “disappears.” “So?”

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She obviously doesn’t get it. I jump up from my stool, leaving my computer on top of the island in the kitchen. I start to make my way out of the kitchen, but I soon digress, stopping at the kitchen table and plopping down on the chair instead. Kicking up my legs, I stretch them across the chair next to me, making a makeshift ottoman, and I continue to speak. “Like in the middle of a conversation,” I clarify while biting my cheek. “Oh, that’s kind of rude,” she agrees. “I mean it’s not like that, it’s just weird. He used to be there all the time, but recently,” I pause, breathing deeply, “he’s kind of MIA.” “Well, didn’t you say he is writing a book?” “Yeah.” “Well, that’s work right? So give him a break.” I know she’s trying to reassure me, I guess she makes sense.

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“I’m being crazy, right?” I sit up stiffly as I speak. I’m totally not all there…I might be losing it…okay… not might. “Yeah pretty nuts.” “Ha. So, what’s up, why you calling?” My voice is now serious. “Wow, cranky much?” “Oh yeah, because you are one to talk?” “Okay, point taken. I just wanted to check up on you. When does Alexandre get back?” “Today,” I say as I look toward my computer, wondering if anyone sent me a message. “Excited?” Her words break me out of the distracted state I’m in. “Yea, ecstatic.” I deadpan. “You sound it. You kind of sound like someone killed your dog.” “I don’t have a dog.” I change my voice, making it sound like a child whining. “My point.”

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“Well I’m going to go play on the computer. I actually have like three reviews to do, and I’m totally procrastinating.” “You? Procrastinate?” “You’re an ass.” “I know, isn’t it great?” “Okay, love you, Jules, I’ll text you later.” I go back to my computer and sign into Amazon to type up one of my stellar reviews. Two five star books and one four star. It was a good reading weekend with Alexandre gone. After I’m done, I pull up the window for Facebook. I see that Ryder is actually on some soap box rant. It’s all over my feed. Apparently, and I don’t really understand, but the topic of him being a male or not is all over the feed. He states that due to the nature of his “real” life and who his family is, he won’t show his face. I feel a wave of elation knowing that I know what he actually looks like. I mean of course it’s an accident, a mere coincidence, but then I think of what

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Alexandre always says to me. Don’t mistake coincidence for fate. I know from the bottom of my being there is a reason Ryder walked into my life. A message window pops on the bottom of my screen. Abby Hale: Omg!! Do you see the drama? Ava Readsalot: Oh yeah I did LOL. Abby Hale: I mean for crying out loud, ridiculous!!! Ava Readsalot: He is a man, so it’s ridiculous. Abby Hale: He should totally just post a picture. Ava Readsalot: He doesn’t want anyone in the book world to know what he looks like. Abby Hale: Well that’s a lie. Ava Readsalot: What do you mean?

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Abby Hale: So many women know what he looks like. Ava Readsalot: Really? Abby Hale: Umm yeah, present company included ;-) I stop typing, No way has she seen him. He told me no one has seen him. He wouldn’t lie…would he? Ava Readsalot: What?? What? Did I really just type that? I sound like a complete idiot. I can’t seem to make my fingers type anything more than what. Abby Hale: Um yeah and he is SMOKING hot! Biting my lip, I stare at my computer willing myself to ask the question I so desperately don’t want answered.

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Ava Readsalot: How do you know what he looks like? Please don’t say you’ve seen him. Please, please, please. Abby Hale: He sent me a pic. Fuck…He sent her a picture. No way, he sent her one. Shit, shit. Ava Readsalot: He did? Abby Hale: Yeah. Anger rushes at me, filling my veins. Wow, did he lie to me or is she lying? Ava Readsalot: Really? Abby Hale: Yes look…

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A picture pops into the window. There he is, in all his magnificence. The sapphire blues eyes I’ve grown to yearn for staring back at me. God I’m such a fool… Ava Readsalot: Wow! That’s all I can say. I’m dumbfounded. He lied to me. Right there staring back at me is his lie. I need to think this out. Did he lie? Or just forget? Maybe it wasn’t intentional. As much as I love Abby, I don’t want to tell her that I know Ryder. I just can’t. I pick up my cell and dial Jules. “Hey, chica.” She answers on the third ring. Her voice is optimistic and excited. Mine…not so much. “Hey, can you talk?” “For a second. Let me shut the door to my office.” I can hear her heels clicking against the wooden floors in her office and then the door shuts.

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“I’m so confused, Jules,” I blurt out. “What’s going on?” “Well, I once told Ryder to show his face on Facebook, that maybe it would help surge his sales. But he is adamant about not sharing a picture. He said that his books should sell on their own merit. I totally agree, but then he stressed that no one in the book world knows what he looks like. “ “Okay.” Confusion is evident in her voice. “Well, I’m on the computer right now, and you know my friend Abby?” “Yeah.” “Well she just sent me a picture he sent her.” I want to crawl into a ball and cry as I say the words. “Wow.” “I know.” “Well maybe he changed his mind.” I’m surprised she’s being so level-headed about this. I had expected her to fly off the handle.

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“But that’s the thing, he’s on Facebook right now, ranting about how he won’t show his picture to prove that he’s a man, that his private life is his private life. But yet, she has his pic.” “Honestly, that’s strange. Maybe you should ask him?” “I don’t know,” I murmur into the phone. “Just do it, Ava. I know you, not knowing will tear you apart.” “Okay. Thanks for letting me vent.” “Never feel bad about venting to me, everyone needs an outlet. If you don't get it out it will just fester inside you and breed. Call me back after you hear from him, okay? Love you.” “Thanks so much, love you too.” I don’t want to confront Ryder, but it's hard to feign ignorance. I look at my phone and contemplate calling him, but fear engulfs me so I take the easy way out, choosing to send him a PM instead.

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Ava Readsalot: Can I talk to you for a minute? Ryder Matthews: Sure. I can feel a slight sweat breaking out on my forehead. Nervous isn’t the word for what I am right now. Ava Readsalot: Does anyone know what you look like besides me? I know the answer, I just pray he has a reason. I’m sure it’s something simple, maybe he forgot, maybe…God I don’t know. Shit. Typing… Ryder Matthews: No. Ava Readsalot: You don’t talk to other girls like this?

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Ryder Matthews: Are you serious right now? Ryder Matthews: Wow! Ryder Matthews: Honestly. Ryder Matthews: Forget it. Forget what? Oh my God what is he saying…? Ava Readsalot: What? Ryder Matthews: If you’re so worried about it, then we shouldn't be doing this. We should end this. My heartbeat feels restricted. I can feel it tightening in my chest, and the air in my lungs comes in shallow breaths as my world comes crashing down around me. I type frantically trying to get the words out before he signs off, before he throws me away. Even though he didn’t answer my question, I just don’t care, I can’t lose him.

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Ava Readsalot: STOP Ava Readsalot: please, I’m sorry. Ava Readsalot: I want this, I want you. Ava Readsalot: You are everything. Ryder Matthews: Okay then prove it, because right now it looks like you don’t Ryder Matthews: Maybe I’m wasting my time on you? Ava Readsalot: No, all I want is you Ryder. Believe me, it’s all I think about, it’s just… Ryder Matthews: ? Ava Readsalot: I’m just scared. Ryder Matthews: Scared? Ava Readsalot: Of losing you. That you’ll decide you don’t want me. My feelings are like a roller coaster. Highs and lows. When Ryder gives me his all, nothing can take me higher, but when he doesn’t…my heart pounds in my chest as I

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steady my breathing. I know he didn’t answer me. I don’t need the answer to know the truth, or maybe he is speaking the truth, maybe he just doesn’t remember giving it to her. I know I should ask him outright, but not having him in my life is unfathomable. Ava Readsalot: I’m so sorry. Ryder Matthews: Okay Ava Readsalot: No seriously, this is all I want. Ava Readsalot: I can’t stand the idea of not having you. Ava Readsalot: YOU are all I want. I will never tire of you, this feeling will never grow old. Ryder Matthews: Same. Ava Readsalot: For the first time in a long time, I feel complete, and that’s because of you. Ryder Matthews: I feel the same way.

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Thank God. My heartbeat starts to regulate as it catches up to my brain. As it realizes Ryder isn’t done with me. I need him to know how much he means to me. I need him to feel the same way. Ava Readsalot: Does it make you happy? Ryder Matthews: What? Ava Readsalot: Knowing you are all I think about? Ryder Matthews: More than anything. Ava Readsalot: It’s exhausting thinking of you so much ;-) Ryder Matthews: Good! Ava Readsalot: I can think of something else that’s exhausting… Ryder Matthews: Soon, but you know the rules. I know what Ryder wants. He wants me to be his. What he doesn’t know is I already

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am. There is no doubt in my mind that I’m his. The feelings I have toward him transcend space and time. The mere thought of losing him creates a rift in my heart.

LATER THAT DAY, at half past six, I hear the door to the apartment open. I can hear the sounds of Alexandre’s shoes hitting the mahogany floors. He finds me lying in bed reading a book. I don’t run to him; we don’t embrace. Hell, I’m not even sure he sees me at all. He’s lost in thought. He walks right past me and into the bathroom. I hear the sink water running, then the shower. My own guilty brain wanders. Why does he need a shower? I start to wonder where he was. Who was he with? This trip came out of nowhere, why had I not asked before? Why hadn’t I gotten details? Have we gone so far down the wrong path that I never even cared

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to ask? I wonder if he was with someone else? I know I’ve no place to judge, but I’m horrible person. I will die if he is having an affair. I’m smart enough to know that my selfesteem could never take it. The longer I sit the more I need to know… I barge into the bathroom. “Who did you go with?” “What?” “You heard me, or do I need to speak more clearly?” I suck in my breath. “Who. Did. You. Go. With?” “I went with Gary—” “Who’s Gary?” “He works for Nat.” “What do you mean he works for Nat?” But before he starts to speak I realize if Gary who works for Natasha was there… Oh my God. Was Natasha there, as well? “Are you kidding?” She was there; I know it.

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“What?” Really? Is he really this dumb? Do I really need to spell it out for him? “You went away with Natasha?” I inquire, stressing each word, syllable by syllable. “It wasn’t like that, it was just business. My dad and her dad—” His words come out calm, nonchalant. There is no hint he has done anything wrong. I want to wring his neck. “Business.” My words are rough. There is no way to feign ignorance. My anger is evident. I watch as his face falls and realization hits him that I’m really angry. “I can explain.” “Alexandre, the time to explain was before you left.” “Nothing happened.” “I don’t care. I should have known.” “Just let me explain,” he pleads, finally understanding he should have told me.

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“No,” I shout out like a petulant child. “I can’t believe you.” I jump up from the bed and hurry down the hall. “Where are you going?” he asks as I walk out the door. “I’m fucking going for a walk, don’t wait up.” The door echoes through the hallways as I slam it with a fierceness I didn’t know I was capable of. This day keeps getting better and better. First Ryder, now Alexandre. I wander the streets for hours, walking in countless directions, getting lost in the sound and feelings of the city. Cabs rush by, bar patrons litter the streets for a puff of a cigarette, drunk girls look for the next hot spot. You would never know it’s a Tuesday night. I wander until my feet will not take me further, then I pull out my phone. Me: Ten seconds, that’s all it took for me to fall truly and madly for you.

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I stand there staring at my phone. Willing it to vibrate. I hold it to my chest praying. When one minute turns to five, I place it back in my pocket and start the trek back to my apartment. It’s a little after 11 pm, but you can't tell because the city is in full speed. I approach my apartment making sure to not stop and talk to the doorman as I’m minutes away from breaking down. A tiny thread is holding me together. One pull and I will unravel. I open the door and notice Alexandre asleep on the living room couch. That is enough to let the dam break. I run straight into my room, throwing myself on my white duvet. I let go. I let go of all I’ve been holding on to. I feel nothing… I am nothing… I need to escape from this cage I’m in. Like a torrential storm, the tears pour out of me. Sobs rack my body. I pull out my phone and hold it close, just in case.

MY EYES ARE swollen shut from the tremendous amount of tears I shed last night. My cell phone is still in my hand. I had fallen asleep holding it waiting. Waiting for a response. Waiting for any comfort I could get, but there is none to be had. I grab my computer from next to the bed, and with all the strength I can muster, I pull it onto my lap. Ava Readsalot: I feel like you don't want me. Did I do something?

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Ryder Matthews: I’m busy. I do have a life besides you. I stare at the computer, even without hearing his words, I know they are laced with annoyance. Ava Readsalot: Sorry, I know you do. Ryder Matthews: It’s ok beautiful. He’s giving me whiplash. It’s like he knows how to give me just enough to keep me stuck. Ava Readsalot: How is your book coming? Ryder Matthews: Horrible! Ava Readsalot: Oh no! Ava Readsalot: Anything I can do to help? Ryder Matthews: You already do. Ava Readsalot: I don’t do anything.

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Ryder Matthews: You do more than you know, trust me. Ava Readsalot: What do you mean? Ryder Matthews: One day I’ll tell you ;-) My phone vibrates beside me in the bed, the sound of buzzing reminding me it’s buried somewhere under my pillow by now. It’s Jules. “So, you never called me back, what happened?” “What do you mean?” I know it was just yesterday, but I’ve no idea what she is talking about. “Oh my God, really Ava?” I can hear her chuckle through the phone. “Seriously Jules, a lifetime has happened since I last spoke to you.” “So, I only have a few minutes for break, how long does it take to tell a lifetime story?”

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“Well I asked Ryder, he didn’t answer me. Instead he threatened to end things. I umm, might have, well okay, so I kind of begged him not to.” “What?” “Yeah, so we made up, and then I texted him, and he ignored me, but was playing online all night. I swear he is flirting with that blond blogger from Cali. Then Alexandre came home, we got into a huge fight, I wandered the streets aimlessly, then to make a long story short—” “Too late.” “HA HA, Jules. You are so funny. Okay, then I signed in this morning. I might have called Ryder out on that, then he threatened to end things.” “Hold up, I’m so fucking confused.” Of course she is. How could she not be? I still have no idea what is going on. “Let’s start from the beginning.” “Okay.” I’ve no desire to get into this.

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“So you asked Ryder about the pics, and he denied doing it, and you asked him point blank if he sent one to your friend Abby?” “Well not exactly,” I mumble back. “What do you mean not exactly?” “Hmm. I asked him about other girls and he threatened to end things, so I kind of dropped it.” “He threaten to end it and you dropped it? What a prick, Ava.” “He’s not a prick, he’s just moody sometimes.” “Oh God. So after he acted like a fucking tool and you let him lie to your face, what did you do?” “Nothing.” “Oh my God, please don’t tell me after the prick was an asshole to you, you did not get all lovey-dovey with him?” “Okay fine, I won’t,” I snap back. “Ava…he systematically breaks you down. You do see this right? Open your eyes, even

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from here I can see they are shut.” This is what he does… but I can’t stop myself. I’m incapable of it. There's a moment in which you realize you will take anything he is offering even if you deserve more. It is the same moment that you realize you are broken. "Just because my eyes are closed, doesn’t mean I can’t see.” “Ava, your eyes are not just closed, they are glued shut, and you don’t see shit. God, you really can’t help people who won’t help themselves,” she mumbles under her breath. “What did you say?” I know what she had said. “Nothing. Okay moving on. So Alexandre gets home, then what?” “God, I just don’t have the strength to go there right now.” “Wow, that bad?” she asks. I’m so not in the mood to get into this right now.

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“Let’s just say, his business trip, yeah…that included Natasha.” “Shut up, wow, how is he still alive right now?” Good question, Jules…Because I would be a giant hypocrite if I killed him. “Cause honestly, I can’t find the strength to care.” “Wow, Ava, I’m so sorry, I’m really worried about you. This whole thing with Alexandre, and then, well, don’t even get me started on Ryder. I have a bad feeling about this; there is something not right with him, a piece is missing. He will break you.” “I’m already broken.” My voice is weak, shattered. “Yes and so is he. He is broken, Ava, you know this right?” “Yeah.” Sorrow rims my voice. “Ava, two broken people will never make one whole." “He makes me feel alive.” “But what about your sanity?”

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“Jules, I would rather feel alive. I want to be someone’s reason for breathing” “But at what price?” “Listen I’m tired, I’m going to nap.” I’m defeated. “Its 9 am, you probably just woke up.” “That was my nice way of saying that I don’t want to talk anymore.” “Since when are you ever polite to me? Please Av, I don’t want nice, I just want you.” “I know, and I’ll get there.” “Love you, babe.” “Love you, too.” I know what Jules says is true. I realize I’m setting myself up for failure. I just can’t find it in me to care. Even though I’ve slept approximately nine hours last night and have just woken up, my emotions are wreaking havoc on me. My eyelids start to droop, and I slip back into the black abyss. Hours pass, the depression festers in my soul. It has robbed me of all my strength. I

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don’t do a thing all day. I don’t work, I don’t eat, I just sleep. I sleep until I literally can’t sleep anymore. I eventually get up and make coffee. With Alexandre back in town, I know my chances of seeing Ryder are limited. As I wait for the coffee to brew, I type a message. Me: I miss u more than u know, I was lost from our first almost kiss. The sweet aroma fills the room, and I look over to the Keurig machine. Lifting the cup to my mouth, I realize that I’m so exhausted. I don’t even wait to add the cream and sugar, instead, drinking it black. I just need the caffeine to give me a jolt of energy and quick. I walk over to the kitchen island and take a seat at the counter stool. As I sit there, I hear the front door open, and Alexandre walks in. Wow, is it already 5 pm? Where the hell did the day go? I look over to

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the clock on the wall, 4:00 pm. Okay, why is he home already? As he walks into the room, he looks me up and down. “Wow Ava, it’s 4 pm, why are you still in your pajamas?” If I could shoot daggers out of my eyes, I would. “Why are you even home?” I spit out to his rude remark. “Glad to see you’re excited to see me.” His sarcasm is evident. “No really, why are you here so early?” “I had a meeting, and it ended early, so I came straight home.” “With Natasha?” I cringe at my own voice. It sounds petty and juvenile. “As a matter of fact, yes.” At that same minute, my phone pings. I notice the name across the upper part of my cell. I look up at Alexandre. “You might as well answer him. I’ve already seen your texts, no need for false

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pretenses." My heart stops. He knows. He fucking knows. I try to think back to what he could have seen, but it really doesn’t matter. He knows. “What texts?” “Don't be coy.” Disdain filling every syllable. “What are you talking about?” “Really?” The look he gives me tells me not to pretend. He has indeed read them. “How?” “Did you really think your code was a secret?” “So you read them, and you say nothing?” I stare at him with disbelief. He knew, and yet he still never fought for me. He doesn’t speak, so I continue. “Well since you don’t acknowledge my existence, why do you care to look?" He doesn’t answer, just sits pensive, quiet. He finally speaks. “I’d been wondering for a while.” It’s a statement not a question.

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“Excuse me?” I ask. “If you were being unfaithful.” “I’ve never cheated on you.” “Semantics.” “You know what? Fuck you. What the hell did you think was going to happen? You think you could ignore me, and I wouldn’t find someone else to pay attention to me? What about you and Natasha?” “That’s different. Nat and I are just friends.” “Liar. You. Are. A. Liar. I see the way you look at her, I see how she looks back. You go for late dinners. What the fuck are you doing with her? Just friends, my ass!” He stares at me. “You’re wrong, you are so wrong, Ava. You’re trying to turn this around on me. You’re the one who cheated!” He screams, his body shaking with the echo of his voice. “Ever since you started this blog of yours…You. Are. Never. Here.”

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“I’m always here, I go nowhere.” “No, you’re stuck on the computer, stuck on your phone. Always busy reading. I miss my wife. Where is she? I want her back.” He pauses as realization crashes down on him “Is that it? Is that where you met this guy? “No, actually I met him at your mom’s fucking fundraiser. While she was insulting me, and you were too busy playing with your girlfriend.” He looks around, gathering his thoughts, as he runs his hands through his hair. With each passing second, the locks become more tousled as he becomes tense with emotion. “Do you even regret sending those texts?" “Why should I? You show no emotion towards me, you act as if I’m not even here. If I got what I needed, I wouldn’t have to look elsewhere. On top of all that, you never fight for me. You allow your parents to treat me like dirt. Don’t I matter?” My body is

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shaking. My whole world is crashing down on me. My marriage is crumbling. “Always back to them. You didn’t seem to mind them when they paid for this apartment.” “You think I care about that? You think I care about any of this? I would rather have nothing and have us be happy. I refuse to be your Stepford wife. I would rather die than sell my soul to your family.” I want to take back all of my hurtful comments, but the moment has already passed. It’s already too late. I might have betrayed him. But then I think, he betrayed me. Every time he didn’t speak up, he betrayed me. “I can’t deal with this now,” he snarls. “Obviously, God forbid, Alexandre that you stay here with me and talk this out,” He walks to the front hall. “Seriously, you’re going to walk out without discussing this?” “Yup!” he exclaims. The door slams. Stunned.

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My eyes blink rapidly as I try to understand what just happened. Completely and utterly perplexed. Is he coming back? Are we done? Sad… Confused… Relieved… I don’t know what to think anymore. The old Ava would have run after him; I would have begged for forgiveness from all the ugliness I’ve spewed. Before Ryder, I would have been petrified of not having him to fall back on. Not scared anymore. Too tired to be anything. Too emotionally drained to contemplate what this means for us. Will he leave? Will he come back? Will he fight for us? I finally gather the strength to check my phone, to see the text message that set this all in motion.

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Ryder: Same baby. This feeling, it transcends all sound, all sight, it’s pure emotion. His words are like a balm to my tortured soul. Me: I need you. Ryder: What happened, baby? Me: I think he left me. Ryder: why? Me: Because he saw your text message. I stare at my phone willing it to chime with his response. 1 Minute… 5 Minutes… 10 Minutes… 11 minutes… 12 minutes… 15 minutes… 16 minutes…

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I sign onto Facebook. I see him online. I know he is there. I can see him bantering on posts, liking comments, starting new threads. He is active, just not with me. He just chooses not to respond to me. Why does he keep doing this? He comments on the thread he had started. He is talking about the takeover he will be doing at 8 pm tonight. I can’t possibly stay here. I can’t watch this. I can’t stand the idea that his banter will become flirty. This avoiding me and knowing he is right here playing with someone else is killing me. Sleep, back to sleep for me… Shit. It’s not even 5 pm…Leave. I grab my bag, and walk towards the door. I realize that I’m still in my pajamas. Wow, have I even brushed my teeth? I honestly don’t know. Shaking my head I venture to make myself presentable. My head aches as I remove my shirt. Everything hurts. I can’t even

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feasibly take off my own shirt. There is no way I’m going out. I hurt so bad, I can barely walk to my own bed, as I gather the energy I pull the sheets above me, and I lay motionless in my bed. My life is spinning madly around me; I’m so lost. I reach next to my bed and pull out the pill container. This day needs to pass. It needs to be tomorrow. I take the small white pill, .25 mg of Xanax and place it in my mouth. The taste is bitter as it starts to dissolve on my tongue. As it travels down my throat it scratches at me. I lay back down and wait for my life to calm.

OPENING MY EYES, I look over to the clock, and it's after midnight. Alexandre is asleep next to me. I guess he decided to play ignorant and pretend we didn’t fight. How he can breathe next to me? Just knowing he is beside me chokes the life out of me. It’s tomorrow. Thank God, I missed the takeover. I decide it’s safe. I open my messenger. Ava Readsalot: I just want to know what it feels like to be yours, I’m so sorry.

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I see he has seen my comment. I see that he is typing, erasing, typing, erasing, typing. Ryder Matthews: You are mine, and I’m yours. Ava Readsalot: Thank you, you have no idea how much I needed that. How much I need you. Ryder Matthews: I do, because I need you, too. I smile to myself. Ava Readsalot: I’m going to go back to bed. Ryder Matthews: Ok baby, sleep good. Ava Readsalot: I will, xoxo. It takes no time for sleep to steal me away. I finally feel at peace with what only Ryder could give me. I know I have huge

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decisions to make, but right now I will fall asleep knowing that he cares about me, that I’m wanted, that I matter, that he owns me, truly and deeply through and through.

The roller coaster of my life continues. It’s only a matter of time before everything comes crashing down. Today is going to be rough. Lucky for me…or unlucky? Alexandre decides our fight is not worth talking about. I feel that his dismissal of the whole matter is only cementing my decision. I’ve not “officially decided” what my next move is, but what I know is that it does not involve getting rid of Ryder. That is not an option. I can’t stand the thought of not speaking to him for an hour, let alone the rest of my life. I would sacrifice anything for him, even if that meant my sanity. My sanity is lost more and more. His constant need to pull and push me is driving me

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so insane that not one moment passes that I’m not thinking about it. All I can see is the potential. The high I feel when he tells me how beautiful I am. How special I am. I know that even though he is busy, eventually he’ll come back. He will reassure me. I need his reassurance. Me: I miss you. I need to know if you care? He doesn’t answer my text, and it rips at my heart. Breaks me. Makes me bleed. I never imagined that I'd ever feel this way. It feels like my life is standing still, just waiting. Waiting for him to care for me. Waiting for him to show me. It makes my head spin. I can’t.

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I can’t. I can’t. The day progresses at a turtle’s pace, and I don’t hear from him. I finally muster up the energy to leave the confines of my bed. There’s no food in the house, so I decide to run to the store and grab something to eat. It’s when I’m grocery shopping that I finally throw in the towel and stop dreaming of him contacting me, and I decide to bite the bullet and send him a text. Me: I’m starting to get worried? Is something wrong? As I make my way down the produce aisle, my pocket vibrates. Ryder: Just finishing this book. I am thinking of you and I do miss you.

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Just that alone levels me; it calms my nerves enough. Just knowing that while he writes he thinks of me, is enough. I respond back that I’m thinking of him, and I love that he is thinking of me. He tells me he thinks of me always, and I melt. I melt right then and there in Dean and DeLuca as I read the text. After grocery shopping, I decide to watch a movie to keep my mind off Ryder. I only hear from him two times, nothing but the two texts. He doesn’t call, and we haven’t seen each other since before Alexandre went away. It’s strange, he’s just gone, vanished like a ghost. Nothing since this morning. He’s online, but I don’t dare contact him. So I sit back and wait. I wait and wait. Hours bleed together. Afternoon has now become night. I wait until I can’t wait anymore, and my obsession takes hold.

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Me: I feel like you broke me, actually I know I’m broken, and I'm not sure what to do now... I want to plead into my text, beg for an answer. Pathetic. Used. Worthless. I sob uncontrollably into my pillow. My hand reaches next to my bed and grabs the prescription bottle of Xanax. One pill. Relief will come soon.

One Day Later… Me: You infiltrated my brain. But then you disappear, leaving me confused? Did I do something to upset you? No response.

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I hold my phone in my hand. I can hear my heart pounding like the ticking of a clock. Waiting for something, for anything. A sign that he thinks of me, that I matter. The darkness I feel is consuming me. It surrounds me. It chokes me. A tear escapes. I stare at the ceiling, willing more not to fall. I need him to want me like I need air to breath, and his silence is slowly killing me. Ryder is very deliberate; every move is calculated. I wonder how long I can live like this. As the hours pass, as the moments cease to be, I wait. My self-esteem is broken down without the reassurance I so desperately need.

Another day passes…

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Me: I feel broken not knowing. Ryder: What don’t you know, baby? Just the word baby instantly calms me, but I need more, so much more. I’m like a crack addict, looking for my next fix. As low as Ryder brings me, it’s the highs from when he shows me that one ounce of interest, and nothing, nothing at all, could compete with that feeling. I’m chasing that feeling constantly, and like any good addict, I know if I stick around long enough, it’s sure to pay off. ME: Where you are. Not hearing from you is killing me. I’m worried about you. I miss you. Ryder: Thank you baby, I miss you too, I’m killing myself over here, but almost done. Just need one more thing, and it’s all over. Soon baby. Just be patient with me. I miss you.

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His words have lured me in, and now he holds me captive, completely enthralled.

I HAVEN’T SEEN Alexandre all day. I’ve been hiding in our bedroom. He’s taken refuge in the living room. My brain is scattered. My thoughts drift between Ryder and my mom. She is getting worse every day, her condition pressing on me. Alexandre chooses this very moment to stroll into my safe space. “Don’t forget we have dinner tonight.” His body is tense. “Ava, in light of what’s going on, I know dinner isn’t ideal. But my father is in town and plans were already made.” I nod my head still lost in my prior thoughts, then finally ask. "Where were you before?” He squints at me as I speak, his gaze still raw. He speaks through clenched teeth. “I was watching TV.”

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“I called your name. I needed to speak to you.” “I didn’t hear you, hence why I didn’t answer. Why didn’t you come find me? What did you need to talk about?” I look at him in disbelief, his apathetic attitude causing me to pause. He’s right. Why didn’t I go find him? “I wanted to discuss my mother. She is getting worse every day, and I wonder if home care is still the right option for her?” Pain creeps out of me, unraveling the threads of what was barely holding me together. I bite back the sob that is forming. “I wanted to talk about what we should do with her?” My eyes tear but are quickly replaced by emptiness. Thinking of our options is too much to handle. So I shut down. Alexandre’s face drops. “I’m sorry Ava, had I known it was that bad, I would have been there.” “But that’s the thing, Alex. You are never there, even when you are here…you aren’t.”

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The room is eerily quiet, stifling. I finally break the silence “Where and when tonight?” I ask. "Babbo at 8, I’m really sorry, Av.” He stands there with his head down, hands in the pockets of his jeans. I know he is sorry, but sometimes it is too little too late. “It’s fine.” It’s not fine, but I’m too tired to continue. Too tired to think of what that means to us. I’m just too tired, period. Later that evening we sit in an awkward silence at a round table in Babbo. Babbo is one of the most sought after restaurants in the city. It’s often referred to as a ‘beacon of elegance.’ The room is dimly lit. Tiny votive candles are scattered across the table. In the center of the main dining room is a large elegant arrangement of white orchids. The exquisite floral art is ever-changing and created weekly by a world-renowned artist named Simone Shubuck. The restaurant is Lenore’s favorite, and as hard as it is to get

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into, she and Maxwell, Alexandre’s father, have a standing table when he is in town. As we sit at the table, I break the silence and inquire about Lenore’s black linguini with squid oil. She turns to Alexandre and informs him that her meal is absolutely delicious. My mouth hangs agape as I realize I asked the question, yet she answered Alexandre. I grip my purse so tightly in my lap that my knuckles turn white. I excuse myself as politely as I can and make my way out the door, but I don’t get so far as Alexandre stops me. His voice is low and resolute. "Where are you going?” “I’m leaving, Alex.” “You will not leave, Ava. You will not embarrass me like that in front of my family." I exhale, realizing I had been holding my breath. “Oh, I'm so sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me, where are my manners?

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Maybe I should be more like your mom and maybe answer the hostess instead of you.” “Seriously I know this sucks, but can we discuss this after dinner?” He lightly takes my arm and escorts me back to the table. As we approach the table, he lets go of my arm and takes his place between his mom and I once again. And although he sits so close I can feel his arm grazing mine, I'm alone. The rest of the meal is filled with relative silence. Maxwell does not speak. He has no time to indulge Lenore in her gossip, and he has nothing but disdain for his son. Lenore continues to ignore me. No flinches this time. Her blatant disregard of me is almost laughable...almost. Through the night I ignore her dismissal time and time again, instead I spend the evening lost in thought. Ryder, his sapphire eyes, the slight creases on his face when he smiles. His lips…oh his lips. Heaven on Earth...Ryder helps me get through dinner. Without Ryder I wouldn’t

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have lasted one minute, let alone one hour with Lenore, Maxwell and Alexandre. By the time dinner is over, I’ve made my decision. As we walk into the apartment, I place my clutch on the side table in the living room and turn to Alexandre, and I think of the future. I don’t see one with him. I know deep down that I can’t be with him. My life with Alexandre is holding me back from who I am. It’s time I start putting me first and moving on with my life. I gently remove my delicate diamond wedding band from my left hand. I stare at it through cloudy eyes rimmed with unshed tears. The words engraved haunt me now; they taunt at me ‘Don’t mistake coincidence for fate.’ We always had faith that some higher power had brought us together. Now…I no longer believe that. “I can’t fucking do this anymore. I’m not invisible.” I pause “I’m done.” My voice is empty. There is nothing left.

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He stares at me and searches for his words. “Are you leaving me for him?” His voice is so soft; I think he might actually be scared. Scared of what, I’m not sure. I doubt he cares if he is with me or not. “No, I just can't take it anymore.” I pause and anger starts to infiltrate me. “For crying out loud, I speak, and she either ignores me outright, or she answers you. You. Not me, and you don’t say anything.” “Who are you talking about?” “Oh my God. Seriously? After all these years you have no idea what I’m talking about? Do you know me at all?” I give him a death stare; disdain drips out of my mouth. “Your mother.” “Back to my mother?” His confusion and denial aggravate me further. “Yes, it always leads back to her. I deserve better than this. ”

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“What do you want me to do? What do you expect me to do?” he says as I sob “Tell them to fuck off? They are my family.” “What about me, Alex? Aren't I your family? You need to have my back, too.” I swing my hand haphazardly in the air between us. He doesn’t speak, just starts to revert into himself. I watch as he shrinks back into the protective cocoon he is so accustomed to. My voice rises with every word. “Do something, say something, yell at me, anything.” “What do you expect me to do? They are my parents.” He sounds as broken as I am. “Fight for me,” I whisper under my breath. “I don’t want to fight anymore, Alex. I’m so tired. So tired of all of this.” Alexandre shoots me a look, his expressionless stare now gone and replaced with anger. The emerald of his eyes narrows and becomes cold. They pierce me. “You are going to fall you know?” All his usual warmth is

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gone “When you do…I won’t be there to catch you.” His words sting, every word rips away at me and forms a gaping hole. “Please, when have you ever been there to catch me? Don’t worry, I’ll find my way just fine, thank you very much.” “You know what Ava, leave then, just leave,” his voice trembles as he speaks. I can feel emotions rolling off him, he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. “I can’t. I have no one. I have nowhere to go.” The realization is depressing…I’ve got no one. “Then I’ll leave. If you need me, I’ll be at my parents.” His voice sounds somber, and I wish for once in his life, he would just fight for me. His voice should make me sad, but instead it just makes me so angry. “Of course you will, God!” I shout into my hand, muffling the scream that I want to unleash. “What does that mean?” he asks.

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“The problem with us,” I stutter, “is that you need to be able to fight for me. It was disheartening not feeling good enough, but having you not fight for me? That’s what kills me. I can’t live like this anymore. Living in this goddamn cage, in this fucking prison. I can’t live up to the expectations. I was always destined to fail. All of my life, I’ve been second best. I just can’t do it anymore, Alex.” My words roll off my tongue with no regrets “He makes me feel alive. I’m so sorry, but for the first time in a long time, I’m special. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I matter.” His eyes search mine, absorbing my words. He says nothing, though, and gives his head a little shake. “I think I’ve heard all I need to hear. Goodbye, Ava.” I stare out into nothingness. I turn and see Alexandre walk away, leaving me completely empty and alone. He walks out of the

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apartment, and I drop to the floor. I let lose all the emotions I’ve been harboring inside me. An outpouring of anger follows suit. As I let it all out, all of Ryder’s words infiltrate my mind. All I want is to go to him, to seek comfort in his arms, but the time is not right yet. I’m not ready yet. I just need a cocktail. I pick up the phone and dial my fail-safe. Jules is perfect for a time like this. “I kicked Alexandre out,” I declare into the phone. “Way to jump right in. Wow, okay, we need ice cream—” “No, we need vodka, maybe tequila, and we need it five minutes ago.” “Okay, hmmm, meet me at the bar down the block from my place. On the corner, next to the French brasserie.” “Okay, see you in what, thirty?” “No I’m still dressed from Babbo, I can be there in fifteen.”

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I walk the block to the bar and find Jules already ordering us a round of shots, Patron Silver chilled. I smile at her, but my smile doesn’t touch my eyes or match my tone. “I don’t want to think anymore. I just want to be told what to do. What should I do?” “Honestly? I think you need time. Time alone.” I nod and then turn to the shot glasses sitting in front of us. “Bottoms up.” We both take the shot, the cold liquid leaving a chill in my throat as it rushes down. “Another round,” Jules says to the bartender standing in front of us. The next shot is sitting in front of us within minutes. This one goes down even smoother. This time I speak. “Keep them coming.” I laugh. By the fourth shot, I’m feeling good. My inhibitions are down, and I reach for my phone. I send the text.

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Me: I’m yours… My phone rings instantly, I answer, but before I can speak, I hear his voice. “Ava,” his words come out husky, “Come meet me. I’ll text you the address.” I say nothing through the whole exchange. He doesn't give me time to object; he knows I won’t. Jules, who is talking to the bartender, has finally noticed that I’m on the phone. She looks at me with disapproval. “Damn it, Ava, what are you doing, please tell me you didn’t just text Ryder again under the table. Please for the love of God, tell me that wasn’t him?” I bite my lip thinking of what to answer as I stand. “Oh my God. Please, please for the love of God. Please don’t tell me you are going to him now?” She studies me as she continues to speak. “Oh my God you are. He fucks with you. He fucks with your emotions, all the time!

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You know it, I know it, and worse, he knows it.” “I’ve got no choice. I have to go,” I declare. “We always have choices, Ava,” She looks so sad, so disappointed in me. “I love you, Jules,” I say as I kiss her cheek, “this is just something I need to do.” “I know.” I look away, and sigh…I know I’m an idiot, but I just don’t care. The cab ride is short, thank God. I’m losing liquid courage and at a remarkable speed. As we pull up, I hand the driver a ten dollar bill and jump out on the corner in front of the quintessential Irish Pub, green awning and all. Hell, there is even a shamrock on it. I walk in and scan the bar, and I catch him in my sights. Ryder is standing against the wall in the corner. His breathtaking gaze falls upon me. Ryder is beautiful. He is brilliant, and I can’t believe he wants me. When

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he looks into my eyes, I have no choice but to sigh. My scope of vision widens, and I notice he’s leaning towards a girl, talking to her. She is drop dead gorgeous. As if she walked out of a lingerie catalog. My heels click across the sticky floor. Ryder’s eyes stay with me as I make my way to him. God is he gorgeous, his coppery brown hair is extra disheveled today, and it appears he hasn't shaved in a few days. His sapphire eyes sparkle as he smiles at me. He leans in and gives me a soft kiss on the lips. I look over to his friend, to imply not so subtly that I want an introduction. “Ava, this is Danielle. Danielle is my PA.” He turns to the blond bombshell. “Aww, yes Ava. I’ve heard so much about you.” She laughs, and I’m instantly uncomfortable. There is a wicked gleam in her eye.

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“Danielle, I will call you later.” Ryder dismisses Danielle and leads me by my arm to the exit of the pub. “Where to?” he inquires as his face splits into a naughty grin. Did I really just take a cab here to be leaving so soon? Ryder wraps his arm around my waist and starts trailing circles around my hip as he opens the door for me. I’m completely and utterly lost in his touch. “Can we go back to your place?” I ask him. “Nah, not tonight, baby. Let’s just go back to yours.”

WE LEAVE THE bar and silently walk the twelve blocks to my apartment. He is leading me by at least two steps, and surprisingly, my shoes don’t hurt. It must be all the alcohol and nerves racing through me. We finally make it, and we walk right past the doorman. I don’t stop to say hi. It feels wrong bringing someone else here. We take the elevator up to my floor and walk in…I feel Alexandre everywhere.

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As my thoughts start to question if I should go through with this, he pushes me against the wall in the foyer. His lips descend. My body becomes wet with need. His hands grip my hips as he presses his body into mine. I can feel how turned on he is through my dress, and it lights me on fire. Snaking my arms around his neck, I deepen the kiss. His right hand runs up my body until it loosely grabs my throat. The arm around my waist pulls me closer. Pressing me hard against his evident arousal. I feel soft tickles from his breath against my neck. My skin pebbles and a chill runs down my spine. “I own you, you are mine do you understand me?” he tightens his hold around my neck. “God, Ava, you make me crazy. I fucking need to be inside of you now." Ryder lowers his hand and grabs my arm, pulling me into the living room. I’m pushed

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up against the couch that faces my painting. Her eyes look back at me. Haunting me. He bends me at my hips, placing my chest on the back of the couch, and hikes up my dress, exposing my lace thong and proceeds to rip it off. Fully exposed. Shivering from fear and excitement. His right hand trails up my leg and grazes my core…the heat radiates off me. Pulsating with need. My body moves toward his hand, welcoming the intrusion…begging for it. I hear a zipper, and as he is freeing himself. His finger starts teasing me. Slowly dipping inside me. God… I’m aching to be filled. “You on the pill?” “Yes, but—” I breathe erratically. “Condom.” He continues to tease me. “Yes please, oh God, please,” I moan. I need to feel him. All of him. I no longer care about anything.

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He nudges closer, and my breath hitches as I hear the familiar sound of a tear. “Please,” I beg louder as he slowly enters me from behind. I can feel my inside walls clenching him as he pushes deeper inch by inch. I let out the breath I’m holding as he fills me completely. So deep. Amazing. He pulls almost all the way out and then pushes deeply back in. He keeps up the same brutal rhythm until I can’t handle any more. Moments pass, or minutes or hours. My body starts to tingle as I hear Ryder’s authoritative voice in my ear, “Come.” I scream at the same time as I feel him pulsate and find his release. When we are done, he pulls me up and hugs my body to his, kissing my shoulder once, his tongue slowly tailing in its wake. “You’re tired, baby, let’s go to bed.” He walks us to the bed and lays me down on top of him. I fall asleep instantly, full sated.

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Finally. I’m his. An insatiable thirst wakes me from my slumber. Ryder’s long torso is peeking out from the crisp white sheet. I play with the idea of waking him, but I need a drink first, Ryder second. Filling my glass with water, I think about last night. The memories filter through my mind. Never have I acted so wanton. My body blushes. After my glass is filled I make my way back to the bedroom and notice he is still fast asleep, his back to me. I crawl in behind him. Just as I’m about to close my eyes, Ryder’s phone pings on my bedside table. The text appears on the front of Ryder’s phone. I can’t stop myself; my curiosity peaks as I wonder who would be sending him a message this late at night. I, of course, read the message. Dani: Hey you, I’m almost finished with edits on the book… I just need the last chapter. I will send it for you to double check

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and then if it looks good you can upload to Amazon. Let’s finish this book. PING. My heart starts to accelerate, afraid that he will wake. Dani: I must say, you really outdid yourself this time Lol ;-) What book? My book? Amazon? Is he done already? Excitement courses through my bones. The idea that his words are true, that I might be forever captured in a book is exhilarating. The next morning I wake up to find Ryder out of bed and on the phone. His voice speaks in a whisper, and I can barely make out the conversation, only hearing bits and pieces. Catching a few words here and there, “Miss you, too. Okay, I will see you later

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today.” He hangs up the phone and turns to find me staring at him. “Who was that?” “Oh, just a friend.” His tone and inflection lead me to believe this is a lie, but what you don’t know can’t hurt you…right? He climbs back into bed and kisses me hungrily. “I want to savor every last bit of you.” His voice sounds husky as he continues his assault on me. I stop breathing. I stop thinking. I feel dizzy with lust.

LATER THAT EVENING after Ryder has left, Jules comes over. “So what did you do last night after you left my ass at the bar? Did you go to him?” I avoid her glare. “Listen, Jules. I know okay, I know, but I just wanted to see him. It was amazing. I’ve never, God, no one has

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ever touched me like that before, and then later, wow. I just really like him, Jules. Can’t you just support me?” “I just don’t understand. One minute you are crying and the next…” “I feel like I’m undergoing emotional overkill, Jules. You just…you just don’t get it. These feelings…I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. What the hell is wrong with me?” Placing my hands on my face, I start to rub frantically, trying to wake myself from the haze. “Ava, you are majorly infatuated.” “This might be more than infatuation.” “Yeah. Try more like obsession.” “God. You know what? Can we please stop talking about this?” “Fine Ava, fine. But honestly, you will get hurt.” “My eyes are open.” My voice sounds pitiful, even to me. "It doesn't matter. He’ll still destroy you.”

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It didn't matter. “I would rather feel pain, than feel nothing at all.” “He is breaking you. You don’t even see yourself clearly anymore. Every day that passes, your judgment gets cloudier.” “He makes me feel vibrant, alive. Like anything is possible.” “You’re not a better person when you’re with him.” “I don't want to be better; I want to be complete. In the end, he wants every last part of me.” I look at her. “Even if I have pain...at least I'm feeling.” Silence stretches between us. Awkward and uncomfortable. “So, what are you doing tonight?” she asks, changing the topic “Why don't you come with us? I’m going out with Gabe. Drinks and dancing at Tromperie.” “Nah, I'm okay. It’s Sunday, who goes out on a Sunday, anyways?”

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“Me, and you should, too. Let me guess…you are just going to sit around staring at the phone waiting for him to call you?” “Fine, I will go with you,” I say, rolling my eyes. Left to my own devices, I would probably rot in my bed, but lucky for me, Jules is never far behind.

I WALK BACK into the room thirty minutes later with a towel wrapped around my head and one around my body. Jules is lying on the couch watching a fashion show while painting her nails. Her face is green from the beauty treatment she’s performing to ready herself for the evening. Jules has taken it upon herself to come over today and apparently is not planning on leaving until she sees I’m actually dressed and coming with her dancing. “What are you doing?” I ask her.

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“I’m bored, are you ready yet?” She furrows her eyebrows at me. I shake my head and pull out a mini gold sequin dress from the bag I’m holding in my hand. “What do you think about this dress for tonight?” Her face lights up immediately. I can see the excitement radiating in her deep brown eyes. “Stop right there. You will not be borrowing this one.” I laugh. She breaks out into a fit of giggles, I knew her too well. “Okay fine, but you totally need your YSL shoes. They will look killer, and oh my God, with those heels, your legs…I DIE.” She is so over dramatic I can’t help laugh. I’m finally dressed, and I take Jules’s advice. I’m wearing the teeny, tiny sequin gold dress, my YSL sandals, and carrying my silver and gold patent Chanel clutch. My dark brown hair is blown out with beach waves. My blue eyes are accented with a shimmery

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gold shadow and black eyeliner that I had played up to make my eyes catlike, and my lips are nude with a shimmer gloss. I’ve never felt so sexy in my life. I take out my phone as Jules is in my bedroom getting dressed. I do it quickly so as not to get caught. Me: Hey do u want to meet me and my friends at Tromperie tonight? I wait, holding my iPhone in my hand, staring at it like a possessed stalker. After what feels like forever, but in actuality was fifteen minutes, it still hasn’t vibrated. We’re running late, so I’ve no time to dwell on the text. We hop in a cab and make it to Gabe’s in record time. The booze is flowing. I hear the familiar pop of champagne bottles and music is blasting. If I didn't know better, I would think I was already at the nightclub. “Shots all around,” Gabe shouts as we walk in. He’s pouring Patron into little

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crystal glasses, “extra chilled, just the way you like it, Jules.” She smiles a very flirtatious smile and winks, and he bursts out laughing. I’m still waiting for Jules to get her head out of her ass and admit she's in love with him. I grab the crystal glass, “Bottoms up!” The cold liquor flows down my throat like liquid heaven, and my body instantly loosens up. We consume quite a bit more before we finally hit the club.

TROMPERIE IS A LOUNGE and club where the dance floor is in the middle of the room surrounded by small glass tables with small booths for bottle service. The room is plush, everything is upholstered with dark burgundy velvet, and the ceiling has a series of large black crystal chandeliers hanging strategically. It looks like a French boudoir. It invokes decadence, sin, and as the name so

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poignantly states in French, ‘tromperie.’ It makes me think of Ryder. His hands. His mouth. The way he felt inside me. I need to see him now... Me: I just got here, but I’m ready to get out of here, what are you doing?” Bodies that line the dance floor sway with the beat of the sexy music playing. My eyes scan the room, a couple is locked in a sensual embrace at the table to my left. A sad feeling envelops me. I need to distract myself. I jump up on the plush banquette and start to dance, losing myself in the rhythmic sounds. Closing my eyes and swaying with the music, I am totally consumed as the music flows through me, and I seductively move my body. Slowly opening my eyes, I look over to the table, but the couple is gone. What I do

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catch is a pair of cerulean eyes staring at me. My breath hitches and warmth spreads through me. There he is. The man who haunts my dreams. His eyes lock on mine and steal my breath away. I am under his spell. I know I saw him this morning, but it feels like that was forever ago. Oh God, Ava, you forgot to breathe. Moments pass and we are still locked in each other’s line of vision, but the spell is soon broken as the most beautiful blond sashays up to him wrapping her arms around him as she approaches. I can’t see her face from this angle. She looks at him, then follows his eyes to me. I finally see her. Moments stand still as familiar features come together to make up Danielle. The glass slips from my hand. Although silent against the bass of the music, the crash of the glass echoes through me like a freight

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train. In the distance I can see her throw her head back and laugh. Is she laughing at me? I need to run. I feel empty. This is not real. This is not happening. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the only sound I hear is coming from my shaking jaw as it rattles from nerves. My pulse is erratic; I swear I might pass out. Somehow mustering up all the strength I’ve left in me, I decide to head over to them. With all the pride in me, I walk in their direction. My stomach dips with each step my feet take. And here they are…I might be sick. Danielle drapes herself on his arm and middle. She leans over and her lips start trailing kisses down his neck. Our eyes meet, and I can see him inhale deeply. His unwavering gaze haunts me. He steps away

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from Danielle, untangling her arms from his waist. The fear consumes me. The tension in the room is tangible. I stand stiff, not moving as I wait for the answer to the question that is playing in my head. The truth is gripping me by the throat. I knew. I knew that my life would never be the same again. My eyes focus on the table in front of them, the crystal champagne glass. They’re celebrating, but what, I don’t know. The reflection of light sparkles and reflects off the surface. I try to calm my breath so I can speak. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale “What are you doing here?” My voice comes out small, broken, “You knew I would be here? I told you where I was. D-Did you

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come here on purpose?” The look in his eyes is all the confirmation I need. “I'm so stupid. So fucking stupid.” His face is impassive. I look into his eyes for something, anything, a sign that he isn’t done, that he still wants me, that I still have a chance. I see nothing. “But you said…” Memories crash down upon me. Visions flood my sight. All the things I’ve given up. I guess it’s what he didn’t say, that is what I should have heard. I feel myself unraveling. My eyes widen with disbelief as reality sets in. The thought of never kissing him ever again rushes through my mind, of never touching him. The mere idea of not having him in my life chokes me, and I bite back the sob that is forming. "Was any of it real?” As the seconds tick by, I feel my soul tear apart. “You said you

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wanted me…you owned me. You broke me, just like I knew you would, but I thought…I just thought you’d be there to put me back together.” His gaze penetrates me. Rips me to shreds. Stone. Cold. Barren. Danielle finally laughs. “Oh, honey, if only you knew.” She winks. Arm in arm they turn and walk away, and I watch Ryder walk out of my life. Forever.

HOURS. Minutes. Seconds pass. I’m home. I’m a wreck. I’m hanging on by a thread. My phone vibrates. A new email…and it’s from Ryder Matthews. My chest hurts, fear bursts throughout my body. I can feel my breath becoming shallow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

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I’m petrified. I’m frozen in place, scared out of my mind to even look. I see the file that was sent to me has an attachment. Opening the email I see that within my email is an advanced reader’s copy of his newest book. I quickly forward it to my Kindle. My hands are shaking so hard I almost drop it. I swipe the screen and re-fresh and sync. My heart beats frantically out of my chest. I feel like it’s being stomped on. I feel desperate, staring at the open page. I pray for a miracle. I pray that I won’t have to endure this much longer. I read the words on the page. Every word, every description. It’s me.

ADVANCED READER COPY RELUCTANT TRUTH

She was petite; her waif-like frame standing a little shy of five foot four, but it was her bone structure that lured me to her. Delicate, fragile, beauty defined. Reading those words wreaks havoc on my already tired soul, but I keep reading and the deeper I get into the story the more perplexed I become. Feeling despondent in her marriage, the main character embarks on a torrid love affair with another man. However, much to her naivety, he systematically breaks her down, feeding her lies and deceit, building her up just to watch her fall.

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It was when she told me about her dark book fantasies that I knew I had to have her. Her need to give up control fed my depravity. I researched her, studied her. I figured out the ideal moment to lure her in, when she would be the most vulnerable. I played off her insecurities, and then I stumbled upon her by “coincidence.” I knew full-well that she’d be at the fundraiser. I decided this was the perfect opportunity to strike. Surrounded by the pretentious nature of the event, she would be at her most susceptible to my advances. I knew exactly how to play her against herself. How much to give her and how much to take away, so she would give everything to me. Every move was calculated, every dismissal planned. All culminating in the final act of her surrender.

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“You will be mine,” I said to her, but I had no desire to own her. None. The book continues to detail each move. It was like watching a game of chess unfold. Making her fall for me was exhilarating, but the knowledge that she had altered her life for me? That was a high that could never be surpassed. The storyline rises to crescendo, with him making her leave her husband, and then… My desire was to see if I could. She was my ultimate test. Once I had her…I had no desire to keep her. I could read no more, tears were pouring down my face. I saw myself through his eyes, beautiful, but really just a pawn in his deplorable game. He was laughing at me the

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whole time. I thought back to the other stories in the series, and as the tears threaten to drown me, I thought of all those before me. This was nothing but a vicious cycle, each story told by the predator catching his prey. I was his latest muse. Me: Is it true? I throw my phone and run to the bathroom dry heaving. I can’t believe how foolish I am. I’m not even worthy of pity. I’m just plain tragic. It feels as though someone has robbed me of all oxygen. I’m not even worthy of a response. God, I sound desperate. I am desperate. It’s too much. I feel too much. I’m disposable. I’m one of many, placed strategically to feed his ego.

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I'm not special… I realize this now. Thoughts of him consume me yet again. I can’t breathe without remembering his lips, the way he smirks, the look in his eye when he is taken over by desire. My heart crashes in my chest. I’m hollow. I was thrown out, left broken beyond repair. I’m not right. I’m not okay. I can’t live like this. He ripped my heart out. He broke me. I’m ruined. I have no one. My heart is empty. I reach for the bottle near my bedside. The pain is still too unbearable. One pill will calm me. Peace, it’s right there, and I can taste it as it slips into my mouth. Moments pass, but there is no relief. The pill isn’t working. I take another half, but anxiety still

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grips me. My chest is still pounding. The clock is still ticking, but time for me has frozen. My hand reaches over to the bedside table. I take hold of my solace, and once again, I swallow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My erratic breath lessens. The calm envelops me. I feel no more pain.

I HEAR VOICES. Muffled whispers. Nothing. Silence. Beep, Beep, Beep… Silence. Blackness. Faint voices. Hushed words in my ears. I reach for the sound; my arm feels like lead. Nothing.

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My consciousness fades in and out. Twilight cascades down. Beeping… A squeeze of my hand. Darkness envelops me. Like a dream. A slumber. My eyes flutter open. My vision is blurry, and my throat feels like sand paper tearing at my vocal chords. Spots dance in my vision as my eyes try to adjust. The scent of ammonia permeates the air. The glare from the window reflects off the white barren walls. As I turn my stiff neck, green eyes come into focus. Alexandre. He is seated at my bedside holding my hand. “Ava?” His tormented voice cracks as he whispers my name. The calm evaporates as I realize where I am. Awareness falls upon me as memories flood my mind, rushing at me. A surge of

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emotions grips my heart. My eyelids flicker. I blink them and close my eyes. “Ava, thank God. I thought…I thought I’d lost you. When Jules called me and said she couldn’t find you, I went to our apartment. And then, and then when I found you…” I open my eyes again and focus on his movement. I can see he is visibly shaking, and his eyes are glazed over with fear and sadness. The silence in the room stretches as the minutes pass. Slowly the fog lifts, revealing my morally abhorrent deed that has lead me here. My body shakes from the revelation. “I thought…I thought I lost you,” he stammers, finally breaking the silence. I did this to him. “When I saw you lying there so still, I thought you were dead. I thought I’d lost you, I thought...I...” He places his hands over his face. “I know I let you down. I’m sorry for what I said. For what I didn’t say…”

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“Alex…” I don’t recognize my own raspy voice. I search within myself, and I carefully select the words deep in my soul that I need to say. “You crushed me, everything you said, everything you didn’t.” “They were just words. They meant nothing.” I shake my head back and forth and try to regain my composure. “They meant everything to me. You broke me, Alexandre. Your indifference slowly killed me. He ruined me but you…you annihilated me.” Alexandre noticeably flinches at the mention of Ryder. “It’s too late, it’s too late.” Pain flows through my words as I begin to sob. “Ava,” his eyes plead with me to hear him out. “Please, Alex, please leave. You have to let me go. You have to let me stand on my own two feet. It's time I find myself, because somewhere along this road I lost me and became what I thought you wanted...but it was

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never enough. I was never enough. I need help, and you can't be in my life for me to find it. I don't have it in me to fight if you are here. I will just give you every last piece. Please I’m begging you, leave.” His face is pale as I speak, and it breaks my heart further. I watch as he gets up sluggishly. I watch as he turns back to me, willing me to speak. I watch as he walks out the door. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. My greatest fear has actually come true. I’M ALONE.

AS I SIT HERE, THE only sound I can hear is that of the nurses speaking quietly outside my door. I know that I won’t be alone for long, but in this moment my room is completely and utterly quiet. I realize that although I find calm in this silence, it doesn’t mean I’m broken. I’m not beyond repair. I will get help, I will figure out a way to be okay. Still, I can’t stop myself from crying. My sobs are silent, and it seems like forever that I sit here reflecting. In truth, it’s probably only a matter of minutes before a

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sweet looking elderly nurse in blue scrubs joins me. She walks over to the porcelain sink against the far wall and starts to wash her hands diligently. “Well good morning. How are you feeling?” She looks at me warily. “Is there something I can get you dear? I imagine your throat must hurt, let me get you some water.” She walks over to green cabinet on the far side of the room and pours me a glass and hands it to me, “The doctor will be right in to talk to you,” she advises me with a soft smile. “Thank you.” My voice is weak. I can barely recognize the sound. I give her a sad glance and then transfer my focus to the window. The rain is hammering on the pane. I’m transfixed when I hear the sound of someone enter the room. “Hello Ava, I’m Dr. Brown. You came in early this morning after overtaking some

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medications. We were forced to perform a gastric lavage. Do you remember anything?” “I, I didn’t overdose,” my voice is choppy as I try to explain. “I’m prescribed the pills.” “Yes. Are you aware the appropriate dosage and instructions for taking those medications?” “I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. I drank before taking them…” As the words flow through me, I watch as Dr. Brown looks at me and proceeds to shoot them down. We speak for a few minutes until he finally leaves. As he walks towards the door, he turns to me. “I’ve scheduled a psych consult before we allow you to leave tomorrow. This is common practice, and it’s necessary to rule out an overdose. I’m not sure if this was intentional or an accident, but you are a very lucky woman.” His words are laced with judgment; he barely looks at me as he checks my vitals, and leaves me without a word.

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As the doctor walks out, the nurse from earlier that day wheels in a food tray. As she rolls the cart, a high-pitched noise squeaks from the wheels, it sounds like the effects of rust collecting over the years. Although I’m now allowed to eat, my throat feels like it would rip to shreds if I consumed anything. The oatmeal is bitter, and the coarse texture turns my stomach. I’m not sure how long it has been since they emptied my stomach, but the burn it has left in its wake resonates through my whole body as I place the spoon down and give up. I turn my attention to the windowpane. Although it is still morning, outside the window the skies are black. It’s as if night has fallen on the city. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I wonder just how long I was out. My lids feel heavy again. It must be the after effect of the drugs that had coursed through my body. I shut my eyes to give them a rest. All around me is silence, the

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only sound coming from the hum of the lights, dimly lighting my room. I’m partially paralyzed from my emotions. I feel broken and beaten, but most of all I feel foolish. My stubborn nature had not allowed me to see the signs so clearly placed in front of me. In hindsight, Ryder had dropped breadcrumbs for me, but like he so eloquently stated, “We only hear what we want to hear.” I was so desperate for attention; I turned my head from the obvious. Instead choosing to secure it firmly in the sand. The day passes with no other incidents or visitors. I’m deemed “not at risk” and no longer have to be watched around the clock, a huge weight lifted off my chest. I know in the bottom of my heart that this was not intentional. I just wanted the noise of all my problems to stop. One moment of peace, not a lifetime. However, what was evident was that there would be no more medicating for me.

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WAKING UP EARLY the next day, the only thoughts that run through my head is how eager I am to leave. After getting my clearance from Dr. Brown, he strongly recommended I speak with someone about the issues he had pulled from me in our discussion. In my hand was the card of a psychiatrist he recommended. I’m discharged much later in the day. Jules insists that she is going to come pick me up. I try to tell her no. I try to tell her that I need to do this on my own. I need to stand on my own two feet for once. But she just isn’t having it. As we exit the hospital, I hail a cab. This is extremely hard to do; my body is weak and feels beat up. As I step into the back seat, I take no notice of my surroundings. My emotions have taken over completely. I’m blind to the world around me. A shell of what I

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once was. Minutes pass, and I hear a soft whimper from beside me. “Jules, why are you crying?" “When you love someone their pain becomes your pain.” The sorrow from her words hovers over me like a storm cloud…I wait for the impending rain as her whimpers become harder and faster. “Shh Jules, I’m okay, or at least I will be.” I try to comfort my friend. She laughs softly. “Aren’t I the one who is supposed to make you feel better?” “I’m fine,” I emphatically say, my tone coming out more forceful than I had intended. “You sure you’re okay enough to be alone? I’m not going to sugar coat things, you sound like a dying frog. Do you want me to come over?” she asks. Normally I would come up with a witty retort, but I’m too exhausted to play this game.

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“No. Just have the cab drop me off and continue to your apartment.” “Let me be there for you; let me hold you up.” “I love you, Jules, but I can’t have you be my crutch. I need to do this alone.” “But you’re not alone,” she insists. “I know, I know you’re always there. But I truly feel that in order to heal I need to do some soul searching.” “Okay, I understand. So now what?” “I don’t want to be like this anymore.” The words sound defeated as they leave my lips. “What does that mean?” I can hear how nervous she is as she speaks. It shatters my heart. “I told Alex to leave, and tomorrow I’ve got an appointment with the shrink the hospital recommended.”

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“I think that’s really smart. Are you going to talk to Alex?” I can hear the compassion in her voice. “Not yet.” “You should have seen him, Av. It was horrific. I was at the hospital before you woke up. I’ve never seen him look so scared. Ava.” She pauses finding her words. “Ava, he was openly crying.” We both know how much that means. In the years we have known each other, I have never seen him cry. Knowing this shreds my heart. The cab pulls up to my apartment building. Opening the door, I turn back around and smile softly to her. “I have to go Jules. I need to rest.” “I love you, Ava.” “I love you, too. I thank God everyday that I have you in my life.” After saying goodbye, my limp body finds its way to my apartment. I walk in and crawl onto the couch in my living room, curling

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into the fetal position. My phone chimes in my hand. I swipe the screen and find a new message from Alexandre. I press the play button. “Hey, it’s me,” his voice cracks in the message, “I just, well I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay…umm well okay…I guess…call me…please.” His voice breaks me apart. My body is too frail to move, so I lay here, and I cry myself to sleep.

THE NEXT DAY I find myself standing on the corner of 35th between Park and Lexington. The street is quiet, nestled in the heart of Murray Hill. The morning sunrise was awe inspiring on the walk here. Electric colors currently dance in the sky as I stand at the crossroads of my life. The decision to endure is evident to me, as I hold the card with the address that will help me find my salvation. My resolve is set. I will move forward, one step at a time.

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I will learn to walk again. I will take a hold of my life. I will embark on a new path. I will set the direction of the path I will take. Only me. It’s hard to admit, but now I understand that Ryder was just the catalyst to my breakdown. It was a long time coming. Years of emotional abuse and indifference broke down my barriers, and I was left wide open for a predator to have me as his perfect victim. Until I can make peace with my past, I will never have a hope for the future. I will start my journey today. Where it will take me, I’m not sure. I’m a work in progress, an unfinished masterpiece. It’s time to attempt to complete it. The first step is walking in through this door. As I enter the room, the smell of fresh baked cookies wafts through the air. To the right of the entrance is the parlor room. I glance through the archway to my right.

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Light trickles into the space from the bay window that faces 35th. I had expected a sterile environment, but what welcomed me was one of the most gorgeous rooms I have ever seen. The room is painted a creamy white and dimly lit to evoke a calming effect. Beige suede couches sit in front of a giant, limestone fireplace. My ballet flats slightly tap on the hardwood floors as I enter. I stop directly in the center of the room, taking in the view, lost in my daydream. “Hello Ava, I’m Dr. Singer. I’m so glad you decided to come to me for treatment.” Turning toward the voice, I’m greeted by a tiny petite woman. Her hair is cut in a stylish bob. She smiles at me reassuringly as she walks past me and places a plate of fresh baked cookies on the coffee table. She then turns to me and holds out her tiny hand to shake mine. My lips turn up weakly at her as our hands meet with a shake.

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“Please take a seat Ava, would you like a cookie? Freshly baked,” She chimes in warmly. “Do you always bake cookies for your appointments?” I inquire. “Oh Lord no, just for the first session,” she laughs. “Try to lure me in with a sense of false safety?” I eye her cautiously. “I find people are nervous the first time, cookies lighten the mood.” “That’s smart, okay I’ll have one,” I say as I nestle myself in the couch in front of the cookies. Reaching my hand out, I grab one and take a tiny bite. Pure decadence fills my mouth. The chocolate morsels melt on my tongue in the most delicious combination of salty and savory. As I continue to eat my cookie, Dr. Singer speaks. “I won’t lie to you, this will be difficult, it will be intense, but together we’ll get you

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through this.” Her eyes are kind; they are weathered with age but show their wisdom. “So now what? Where do we start?” I ask her, my mouth now empty. I already miss the comfort of the cookie. “We can start with you telling me about your childhood, Ava.” “What’s there to tell? My parents got divorced; my dad left when I was sixteen.” “There must be more than that?” she inquires. “What do you want to know? Do you want to know that my mom worked all the time. That my dad was gone? That I was alone?” My answer comes out edgier than I hoped. Anger is evident in my voice. “For starters, yes. That is exactly what I want to know, Ava. This all started somewhere. We can talk about the immediate and fix that, but really that’s just putting a BandAid on a big gaping hole. We need to find the root of the problem and focus there.”

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“Okay,” my voice softens a bit because I understand where she is coming from. I know that we have to start at the beginning, but thinking about my parents instantly puts me on edge. But she is right, so I nod my head in agreement. “What did you say to your father when he left?” She delves deeper into my psyche… “What was there really to say? I said goodbye.” Anger and animosity are present in my voice as I speak. “Have you spoken to him since?” Begrudgingly, I shake my head from side to side. “No, he moved to California.” The words come out pained. “Well, in the beginning yes, we were supposed to keep in touch, and at first we did. But soon the phone calls were fewer and fewer. Truth is he always was an absent prick. Now he just wasn’t in the house.” “That must have been hard for you?”

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“You would think so, but his absence never bothered me.” I concentrate on my fingers, my nails sinking into my soft skin, the tenser I get. “And your mom?” She tries to sound comforting as she speaks, but it doesn’t help. Talking about my mom causes lacerations in my heavily guarded façade. “I can’t.” My eyes well with unshed tears. “Ava, you’re okay; it’s okay to cry, but if you hold it in, it will only fester.” “She has early onset Alzheimer's.” The anguish is evident in my voice. “I’m sorry, that must be hard for you. Let’s change direction. Can you tell me about growing up with a single mom?” She is offering me a reprieve and as much as I appreciate that, I know I can’t hide from this anymore. “No I’m fine. You can go on.” “Are you sure?” She is giving me one last out. I bow my head yes to her.

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“Okay, why don’t you tell me about growing up with a single mom?” “Well, she wasn’t really around much, she worked a lot. My mom is a genius. She loved working. She was loved by everyone. She was, actually she is, a remarkable woman.” “Did you resent your mother for working all the time?” she asks. The unshed tears that have pooled in my blue eyes have started to fall. “It’s okay to feel resentment, Ava.” Wiping at my face, frantically, my vision begins to clear. Dr. Singer gives me a knowing look. Her head nods to encourage me. “Isn’t this supposed to be easy the first time? Aren’t you supposed to just ask me what’s wrong?” “What good would that do?” She smiles. “If you knew what was wrong with you, you wouldn’t be here.” She winks as she speaks. I can’t help but laugh, and my mood lightens considerably.

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“Yes, I resented her.” I nervously bite my lip. She nods her head slightly with understanding. Just releasing that one statement feels as though a weight has been lifted off my chest. I never realized that I was holding on to that. Seeing me relax, she starts to talk. “Okay, this is very good. We can get back to your parents in a minute.” Her smile is warm and welcoming. “Why don’t we talk about why you are here?” She laughs, trying to keep my walls from coming back up. “I just got out of the hospital.” “Yes, Ava, I read over the hospital’s notes. But why don’t you tell me in your own words why you’re here?” “I…God I don’t even know anymore. I’m married. I met someone else, and I was so blind.” I took a deep breath. “When I first was with Alexandre I was happy, I was content. But even then I still felt a part of me was missing, a void I could not fill. “There

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isn’t one defining moment when the loneliness started seeping into my veins. But once it began, it was all consuming.” “That’s how loneliness is Ava, loneliness grows. It festers within and feeds on your insecurities.” I suck in a deep breath. “By the end, Dr. Singer, mine had become so thick I could no longer see the forest through the trees.” I can feel the familiar tickle in my nose as the tears continue to fall. Sensing my collapse looming, Dr. Singer interrupts me. “We’re moving too fast, Ava. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, start from the beginning.” For the next thirty minutes I tell her everything about Ryder. About what brought me here. I give her the cliff note version of my relationship with Alexandre, of the indifference I felt. It makes me remember the first night I met him.

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My buzzer went off indicating the doorman is calling. I walked over and pressed the button. “Yes,” I said through the intercom housed on the pink walls in Jules and my one bedroom converted apartment. “There is an Alexandre here to see you, shall I send him up?” I could recognize the British accent through the intercom. I smiled to myself. John is my favorite of the doormen; he loved to give me shit. “Hi, John…send him up,” I quickly walked over to the hallway mirror and retouched my lip gloss. My face was made up simply as if I were wearing no makeup. Usually I went for a more sultry look, but Alexandre was very sophisticated, and there was no need to scare him off. I wore slim, tight black pants, black stiletto heels to make me appear taller, and a black shirt that hung a tiny bit off my right

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shoulder. The bare minimum of skin showed just enough to seem sexy without being over the top. I have to admit I looked beautiful. My brown hair was freshly blown out at the local blow bar right after work and hung past my shoulders with a soft bounce. I grabbed a red clutch for a touch of color, and as I was reaching for my coat, he knocked. I opened the door with a giant smile that didn't really touch my eyes. Alexandre wasn't the typical man I went out with, but Jules said he was nice, and I promised her. He was dressed in a burgundy buttondown and perfectly fitted black pants. I thought to myself ‘good Lord this is going to be bad.’ He was way too good looking, too perfect. His brown hair was cut short; he looked like he walked straight from a GQ Magazine shoot. Yep way too perfect for me. I wondered if he would have taken the date if he knew just last week I was dancing on a

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table in a dress that could have been a shirt it was so short. I felt self-conscious with the tiny bit of skin showing now. I smiled again, and he smiled back. I bit my lip and waited for a greeting. He seemed a bit shy, maybe reserved. So I decided to take the first step. “Hi, you must be Alexandre?” “Yes, a pleasure to meet you, Ava, are you ready to go?” He smiled at me, his greens eyes sparkling at me like two perfect emeralds. I felt my world warm up. “Oh yeah, of course, let me just put on my coat.” “Here let me help you,” his warm fingers grazed my neck as he helped me put my coat on. Electric currents ran down my spine. He placed his hand on the small of my back as he escorted me out of my apartment and towards the elevator. We waited patiently, neither of us speaking. The elevator finally arrived. The descent to the lobby was just as quiet. We walked out of the elevator and

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made our way onto the street. It was a beautiful Thursday night in October. The air was crisp and refreshing, and the temperature was splendid. “We are going to walk a few blocks and try out the new steak house down the block.” I smiled brightly at him. “Sounds amazing, can’t wait. So Alexandre, or should I call you Alex?” “Whichever you prefer.” “Jules tells me you work for JSG Investments.” “I do.” “What do you do there?” “I work for my family. We run a hedge fund.” “Wow, that must be nice working with your family.” “It’s okay, pays the bills.” His voice sounded off when he spoke. The rest of the walk to the restaurant was comfortably silent. We walked into the

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dimly lit restaurant. It smelled fantastic and my mouth watered at the idea of having a glass of champagne to relax after the long day I had. We approached the hostess, and Alexandre turned to her. “Reservation for Harrison.” “Yes, please Mr. Harrison, follow me.” We made our way to a beautiful table illuminated by only candlelight. I had to give him credit, the restaurant had great ambience, and it looked to be rather expensive. I could get used to this. I smiled to myself. The hostess left us and again we sat in silence. I played with my fingers under the table trying to figure out a way to make conversation. Luckily for me, in that very moment, a perky blond came over to the table introducing herself as our waitress, and we ordered a round of cocktails. When she returned I was never so happy to see anyone in my life.

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As I sipped my champagne I mustered the energy to give this date a go. “So tell me Alexandre, what do you do for fun?” I smiled at him. “I work a lot, but when I’m not working I play basketball with a men’s league and tennis.” While speaking of basketball, he blossomed. Excitement radiated off him, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. “Oh wow, I would love to watch you sometime” “Okay.” He smiled at me, his face beaming with pride. I picked up my glass and couldn’t help but beam, as well. I remember the day as though it was yesterday. How withdrawn he was when we first met, but as the night progressed how much he blossomed. I remember thinking I needed to know him. I needed to spend time with a

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man who with my words of encouragement, his confidence grew wings and took flight. I shake myself out of my haze and continue to purge myself of emotions while Dr. Singer jots downs notes in a tiny notebook. “That was great, Ava, really great. You should be proud of yourself. This is a monumental step.” She encourages me as she speaks, her excitement making me believe, too. “Okay, so our time is up. I think that we should see each other a minimum of twice a week for now, how does that sound to you?” “Sounds good, so tomorrow?” “Yes, tomorrow. Can you be here at 9 am?” “That works.” I smile at her as I get up from the comforts of the couch. I make my way outside and before leaving I turn to her and smile. The closer I get to the door, the more I feel my chest constricting. My breathing accelerates, and a panic attack starts to rise.

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“Thank you again for seeing me,” my voice is weak, I’m starting to drown again. She speaks to me, and her voice is soft and soothing “You will be fine, Ava.” Her voice is like a balm. She makes me believe anything is possible. As I walk away, down the quiet street closer to Park Avenue, I collect my thoughts. The mid-morning sun peeks out from under the tree coverage that lines the street. I imagine how different my life would be if I had gone a different direction. I think about everything the doctor had addressed in regards to my feelings towards my mom. I realize this was a long time coming. I breathe in, willing myself not to cry again. The walk back home is long, and I allow myself to become enthralled and distracted by the hustle and bustle of the city, of my city, of the only place that forever will be the salve to my soul.

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My phone rings in my pocket, and I reach for it. Alexandre. Sighing deeply, I hit the screen. “Hi, Alex.” “How are you?” His voice is soft. “I’m okay,” I say faintly, the sadness from hearing the pain in his voice seeping into my veins. “You sound so sad, I just…God what I would do to hear you laugh again, Ava.” He pauses and the phone crackles as he moves it. I can hear his breathing through the earpiece. “I want to see you,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Alex, I’m just not ready yet. I just can’t right now. God, honestly I’m just not strong enough yet. But hopefully I will be soon.” I can hear his ragged breathing as I apologize again. His pain is killing me. “I’m sorry, Alex. Listen, I hate to do this, but I’ve to go. I’m not saying goodbye okay? I just need some time.” Alexandre will just have to understand.

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This time it’s about me.

THE DAY PASSES. It’s now Thursday morning, and I rise early for my appointment. What a difference a few days makes. The sun shines brightly as I walk to Dr. Singer’s office. It dances with promise of a new beginning, of starting over. The morning dew is sparkling off the leaves that line the brownstones. A feeling of rebirth is in the air. It makes me feel light and hopeful. Within a minute, I find myself sitting on the familiar couch; a full day has passed since I first got here. Two since I woke up in the hospital. A lifetime since I felt complete. “Sometimes I wonder how I became this weak? How did I let him infiltrate my mind like this?” “You aren't weak, Ava." Her voice is gentle as she speaks to me.

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“He is a predator; he saw your weakness and played on your fears.” And there is that word again. I knew it, but having her confirm it is like a knife turning in my gut. “I just don't understand, I don't understand how he did this to me.” “It’s called intermittent schedule of reinforcement, Ava. It’s the hardest behavior to extinguish.” As she speaks, my confusion is evident on my face. “Imagine it’s like a slot machine. It gives a little, then nothing, then a little again. It gives you just enough to lock you in the game, to train you to know that at some point there will be a payout. If it didn’t, no one would come back. That’s what Ryder did, he gave you just enough to keep you in limbo waiting for the big jackpot.” I sit back and think of every comment he ever made. Every interaction we ever had, piecing the puzzle together piece by piece. How easy I fell, how easy I broke. Every

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single calculated move becomes apparent to me. It hits me like a ton of bricks. “I can't believe this.” I shake my head back and forth. I try to brush off the painful reality that is setting in. I was nothing more than a game. He really was my downfall. This really was a sick game. “I felt like I was stuck, like I had no choice. I still feel stuck. What do I do now?” “You will always feel stuck until you fix the underlying problem.” “Okay, so what does that mean, how do I fix it?” “Ava we know where this stems from. We discussed this the other day. It’s all connected. All of it.” She looks back at her notes then smiles at me. “You fear imperfection, of not being good enough. You viewed your parent’s absence as a reflection of you. That you were not good enough, so now you seek approval…you need approval. You gravitate to relationships

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based on this need. Alexandre was probably not the first, just the first that you remember. You then chose Ryder, a man who was indifferent. Again, striving. Your relationship with him was the most toxic, but the problem is, it was the most alive you felt. He fed into your need to receive approval. He studied you, found your weakness, and preyed on you. “No, Dr. Singer it wasn't like that. You don’t understand.” “No Ava, I do.” “I just wish he cared about what he did to me. I wish it affected him…I wish…I wish, I don’t know, that he would change—” “He will never change. People don’t often change. The only variable that can change is you.” “But I don’t understand why? What was the point?” “It was always about him. His insecurities are so great that he wants to see just how

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much and just how far he can push, how much someone can take, and once he gets to that limit and sees his desired results…he drops them.” “Oh my God, he’s a sociopath?” “The term is actually Narcissistic Personality Disorder. He might seem like he is just arrogant, but he isn’t. He believes he is better than everyone else, but in reality he has such little self-esteem that he cannot handle criticism. Belittling others is his attempt to prove his own self-worth. He has no empathy. None, Ava.” “So he never cared?” I know I’m repeating myself, but I just can’t fathom the definition and truth. “He manipulated the situation so that you felt like you were getting closer to him, that you were important. But Ava, you will never be allowed in. You never had a hope of it.” She stops talking to collect her thoughts. “They play the game simply to entertain

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themselves for their enjoyment. That is all you will ever be to a narcissist. In the end this is just because they are trying to convince the world, but most importantly themselves, just how important they are. In the end, you mirrored his insecurities. He will never be able to fix himself, so he chose to cut you down, to use your downfall to validate himself.” She locks eyes with me, her words boring into me. “He will never be able to fix himself, but you can fix you.” Hearing her words, it finally starts to really sink in. I never mattered. God what is the depth of his depravity? What have I done? What have I given up? How can I ever move on? “How could I ever forgive myself for throwing my life away?” “Ava, the road to forgiving yourself is the hardest journey to take.”

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As I’m making my way out the large mahogany door, Dr. Singer calls out to me with one last parting statement. “Ava…I have a challenge for you.” I turn to meet her gaze. The way she says this intrigues me and draws me in. I become transfixed by what she is about to say. “I challenge you to own every one of your flaws. I challenge you to have the courage to expose yourself to things you cannot change. We grow and learn from our mistakes, and I challenge you to embrace them, and most of all I challenge you to show that you are…imperfect. Admit and embrace that you are not perfect…now that Ava, that takes courage.”

Me: I’m not ready to talk yet, but… Alexandre: But? Me: Maybe soon. Alexandre: I’ll be here waiting. Me: I think I’m finally getting it….

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Alexandre: Getting what? Alexandre: What do you get? I type slowly making sure that I choose my words carefully. Me: Why this happened. I think I finally understand why I did it. Me: This was always about me, and I’m finally seeing that, and I’m finally really making progress. Alexandre: I’m here when you’re ready…and always will be. Me: Thank you, Alex. I’m not sure what the future will bring, and I’m not sure if it’s fair for me to hope for absolution…or if I even deserve it. But I will hope for it nonetheless.

Two months later… AS MY SESSIONS with Dr. Singer pass, so does the season. The weeks become months. They blend together and what was once a beautiful cool night in the city, is now sweltering. An evening escape to my park becomes habitual to me in the months after my trip to the hospital. At first only once a week, now it’s a nightly occurrence. I need the space. I used

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to escape here to leave my gilded cage, now it’s just to breathe in the air without feeling suffocated in my lonely apartment. These moments are welcome. This brings me peace, and I find a temporary clarity. I hear the sound of a throat clearing. Turning to see who is behind me, I see Alexandre. He looks so young, so innocent and sad. It shredded my heart that I pushed him away. No matter what I said to him, I did love him, I was just so broken before I didn’t know how to love him and still be me. “I stopped by the apartment. Raymond told me you had gone for a walk.” “So you came here?” I ask, peering up at him. “Of course, this is your place.” The fact that he knows this warms my heart and makes me…swoon. “I won’t keep you, Ava, I just wanted to…” He stops and reins in his emotions that were threatening to expel. It’s no use as his

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breathing becomes more erratic. “I should have expressed my love for you more often, I should have told you every day how much I cherished you, but sometimes I find it difficult to speak, sometimes I can’t find the words. Then the moments pass and time doesn’t stand still.” As he speaks his eyes glass over. “You don’t need to say anything, Ava, I just...before I go,” he stutters, “I just, I saw this, and I thought of you. I want to borrow the words I can't say.” His hand is shaking as he reaches towards me holding a book, he places in my hand, and as he walks away he turns back to me. “I will wait ‘til forever for you’ Once he is gone, the book becomes heavy in my hands. Looking down, I notice the words “The Greatest Love Letters of All Time.” Housed on the front cover is a tiny envelope. With gentle ease, I open it. Inside there is a small piece of parchment. My eyes fill with tears as I pull it out and begin to read.

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Good morning, on July 7 Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I’m resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I’m really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in Vienna is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that

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be so in our connection? My angel, I’ve just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a clam consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved, ever thine ever mine ever ours. "Immortal Beloved" Letter July 7, 1812 Ludwig Van Beethoven (1) I stare at the letter. My heart hammers in my chest. Confusion filters through my blood. Everything I know is in question. I’m in disbelief. Complete disillusion. Alexandre has left me speechless. I pull out my phone.

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Me: Thank you Alexandre: You are my everything. Please remember that as you find yourself.

THE FOLLOWING DAY I’m sitting on the same couch in the same room that has become part of my weekly routine. We sit in silence, but the longer we go without sound the more it screams at me to speak. My words come out as a tangled confused mess. “Alexandre came to see me. Oh my God, doc.” “When was the last time you saw him? I know you speak occasionally.” “Last time I saw him? Like, actually saw him? I don’t know a little over two months ago at the hospital. Can you believe that? You’ll never guess what he did. He showed up at my park, I almost started crying right then and there.”

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“Why is that?” “Because he knew, he knew to find me there. He came there for me. I never thought he paid attention to those details.” “Sometimes the most obvious things are staring at us right in the face. Maybe he just needed his eyes opened. Maybe for Alexandre, finding you barely breathing opened his eyes.” “He brought me this book. He said that he couldn’t find the words, so he’d borrow the words from Beethoven.” “How did that make you feel?” “It ripped open my heart. I feel like I’m bleeding out slowly. I feel so bad just when I hear his voice on the phone. I feel so selfish for doing this to him, but now to see him. That gesture. I feel horrible. I’m not worthy of that kind of love.” “You did nothing wrong keeping your distance. You needed to learn to love yourself, first, you know it’s not selfish to love yourself

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don’t you, Ava? It’s not selfish to put yourself first for once.”

THAT NIGHT AS I sit in the park, I watch the shadows on the bench across from me. Their hands are intertwined, and their bodies are nestled into one another. The man kisses her head as they laugh and stare up into the sky. As I sit mesmerized by the sight in front of me, my phone chimes in my hand. Alexandre: I cannot exist without you I’m forgetful of every thing, but seeing you again - my life seems to stop there - I see no further. You have absorb'd me. ~ John Keats (2)

Two days later….

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I SIT ACROSS FROM Dr. Singer. Sunlight peeks through the trees outside the window bathing the room in an iridescent glow. Her auburn highlights sparkle and illuminate as the light reflects off her. She moves her body ever so slightly, crossing one ankle behind the other, her fingers intertwined on her lap. She glances to the coffee table where her notebook sits, and leans forward to pick it up. She smiles up at me. “So Ava, what has you so perplexed? You look so deep in thought.” “Honestly,” I don’t wait for her to answer, “I’m trying to decide what to do in regards to Alexandre.” “How so?” she asks quickly jotting down a note. “He is being so attentive, so sweet…but I can’t help but think, I don’t know. “That he hasn’t really changed? That this is an act?”

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“Yeah. Plus, didn’t you say people don’t change?” “He is not Ryder, Ava. If you think back to who you fell in love with, maybe he really hasn’t changed, maybe his true self was hiding for some time.” “I know. I am just having a hard time reconciling the two versions of him. Before, well before he never showed me this much love, now…” She puts the book down and leans in, her eyes locking on mine, pulling me in. “You need to learn to give him a little slack. Someone raised by someone who shows no emotion is taught to do the same. Alexandre wasn’t able to fight for you before because he didn’t realize what there was to lose. Understand that together you drifted apart, but only together can you find your way back. People don't grow in small steps. One takes a giant step and the other isn't aware to keep up. Now that you are aware,

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you can fix this. Understand that you are human. You needed something you didn’t get from Alexandre at the time. You needed to feel wanted, and the relationship you had with Ryder gave you that. It was like an adrenaline rush. The excitement of getting away with it almost has the same intensity as drugs. Now that you know this, you can fix the part of you that needs that feeling. This was never about Ryder, hell it was never about Alexandre, this was about you, Ava. It was always about you.” “I hate to bring this up, because really it shouldn’t be relevant. But what do I do about Lenore? How do I handle that? I’m scared that this will always be an issue between us.” “Ava people don’t change. It’s how you interact that does. She will never change, but how you perceive her will. It’s how you let it affect you. You can’t control people, but you can control yourself. You need to discover the power of positive thinking. You need to

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find acceptance,” Dr. Singer says. “No one will ever fill what’s missing inside of you. Be strong; conquer your own thoughts. That is your first step.” “I’m going to stop crying, that’s my first step.” I laugh. “Live in the present, take each moment one step at a time. That is the only way for you to find happiness. Live in the now. Believe there is a reason for everything and most of all…trust. Trust that you can handle all the challenges that life gives you.” Since starting therapy I’ve learned that positive thinking is imperative to a healthy and happy life. Today’s conversation just reinforces the months of lessons I’ve already learned. Crying is not a weakness; it’s a cathartic release. But once you get it out, it’s time to be strong and live in the present and look toward the future. Take each day one day at a time. Start each morning in the now.

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Two days later… I FIND HER SITTING facing the window, as per her usual spot. “Hi, Mom.” I take the seat next to her. Her eyes are vacant; they look right through me. “I know you don’t really understand me sometimes, but I just need you, and I just need to talk. God, I don’t even make any sense right now. Where do I even begin? I had a nightmare last night. I know. How silly having nightmares at my age. There was a lion. His piercing eyes looked like they would devour me. He was standing right in front of me, blocking the entrance to where I needed to go. I’ve never been so scared in my life mom. Fear overcame me, and I turned to run away, and I woke up. I’m so fucked up right now, Mom. I was petrified. Still, when I close

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my eyes, the nightmare is there. It still gets in and haunts me. You used to be so good with dreams; I wish you were here. I wish you could help me.” My words crack with emotion. “I started seeing someone. I don’t think I mentioned that in the last few visits. Her name is Dr. Singer. She’s really wonderful. She says all of this stems from my childhood, I don’t know. I guess it makes sense, right? God, I’m rambling. Want to hear something funny? She wants me to write a book. I know right, it’s kind of crazy. She thinks it will be cathartic…she says I should purge my soul.” I stop speaking and stare up at the ceiling. I notice the crack has been mended, if only it were that easy. “I used to write, you know?” Tears well in my eyes as I hear the sound of the most beautiful voice speak…my mother’s. “There was so much sadness in my life, but nobody suspected. Miss happy. That was my

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nickname.” She lets out an audible sigh. “No one knew that with every smile there was a tear.” Her words come out softly, almost a mumble on her fragile lips. “I was the oldest and I had to be in charge…I needed to be good, I needed to succeed, I needed to help, and I needed to take care of the others. I wanted to be free, and I couldn’t be because I was in charge, in control. I needed to be…perfect. So, I wrote and I felt free when I did.” I stare at my mother sitting with me. Her words rip through me. I always assumed she was so perfect…so happy. I breathe in the oxygen like I have been deprived. “I was married once…I was so young. My heart was broken, many years ago." She looks out the window. Then she turns back to me, her eyes locking on mine. Bearing into me. “Next time around you face that lion. That lion is your courage. It’s strong, it’s

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proud, it’s powerful. You face that lion, and you will be fine. Everything will be fine.” She turns back to staring at the pane. The sun reflects, sparkling, tiny crystals hit the surface and reflect off the walls “You know, I have a child,” she says looking into my eyes again. They glisten as she smiles. They are filled with pride and adoration. “A daughter. She is so beautiful and smart. The light of my life. She is always so independent and strong, I always envied that in her. If you stay long enough, you’ll meet her. She should be coming by soon.” Closing my eyes I turn my head toward the heavens. Salty drops continue to roll down my cheek. I can feel the dampness on my skin as I try to wipe them away. Time stands still as her words resonate within me. They heal me one crack at a time. In her eyes I was always perfect.

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“Ava?” I think I’m dreaming as I turn slowly toward the soft voice. I turn to face my mother, and she looks into my eyes with a clarity that I haven’t seen in her in months. My eyes widen in disbelief. Tears pour from my eyes as I kneel in front of her and press my forehead to her lap. She softly touches my head, gently caressing me. I cry so hard, the sobs shaking my body. “I love you, Mom.” “Ava?” she pauses, “how much?” Her breath catches as she speaks. “How long has it been?” “Too long to remember, Mom.” “I’m not sure how much time has passed? How much time?” she repeats, visibly shaken by her lucid moment. “Months, maybe even a year.” “A mother needs to see her daughter sometimes to get well,” she says to me. “And sometimes a daughter needs a mother to finally heal,” I whisper back.

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I watch her eyes as she starts to become lost in time, trying to find her way back to the present. “I feel like I’m dying sometimes. I feel like my soul is just drifting, just searching for some place to remember, and then I come back…and I feel like I’m returning to just say goodbye. Like this will be the last time. I just want to be free of this pain and this loneliness, but I hold on, for this. I hold on to see you again, Ava.” “Shh, Mom, let’s just enjoy this time we have.” “I love you, Ava. It just…it just makes me so sad. I should be here to hug you, to help you though your pain, I should be here to one day hold your children. I will miss that. I will miss…everything.” She wraps her fingers around my hair as she twirls it lightly like she did when I was a child. “Promise me. Promise me, you will tell your kids about who I once was…not this, don't let them see me like this.”

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“Mom, I don't have kids.” “No, but you will, you will one day. You will have a daughter, and she will light up your world like you do mine. She will be the reason you wake up. You were my reason every day. When the pain gripped at me, you were the reason I went on. You were my reason to live.” She continues to stroke as I hear her sniffling trying feebly to suppress a sob. “Promise me.” Hearing her cry breaks me apart even further. I try to breathe, try to calm the lump that is residing in my throat, but the rush of oxygen does nothing to ebb my tears, they only flow faster. An involuntary sob breaks free. The tears I was holding began to spill down my cheeks. “I promise, Mom.” She takes a calming breath. The sound of whimpers become fainter and fainter. She places her hand beneath my chin, turning my face up to her. Her green eyes sparkle

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through the moisture at me. They are piercing, vibrant, beautiful. “I’m so proud of you.” Time passes, and as I watch the minutes merge and stretch into almost an hour of pure magnificence, her uncomplicated smile from only minutes ago starts to become rigid. It’s like shutting off a light. Slowly she is becoming more confused. “It’s okay, Mom. Shh, come back to me. Please, Mom, it’s too soon. It hasn’t even been an hour, I’m not ready to say goodbye please…please." It has been so long since the last time. I can’t lose her now…I just can’t, I fear that this time, once she is gone, she’ll never return. As she slowly pulls away, it’s like a shadow is falling suddenly upon her. “Has my daughter arrived yet?” “Not yet, she should be here soon,” I whisper back.

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“You should stay…meet her. You will love her as much as I love her.” “I’m sure I will.” I sit with her until the recollection leaves her eyes and what was once there, vanishes yet again. I would never take back those precious moments. They are everything to me. Hearing my mother tell me she loves me, and understanding the pain she has had to endure. This moment, this precise second, will live on forever in my heart. I will forever be changed. I will forever be grateful.

MY NEXT APPOINTMENT with Dr. Singer is in one hour, so I dress quickly and race out the door. I walk briskly to her office. “You look well, how do you feel today?” I’m practically bouncing in my seat as she speaks. I shift my weight forward and place my hands on the glass coffee table sitting in

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front of me. My nails tap on the surface making a clicking noise as I answer her. “I have to tell you, I feel good, I really do. I feel like a weight has been lifted off me. I feel like I had a black cloud around me for the last few years. I was so lost. One wrong turn I made, I’m not even sure where I went wrong, but since that moment… Ryder…I think I’m going to see where this whole thing with Alexandre might go. I feel strong enough now to not give up all of myself for him. I know I will not lose my identity, that I will not lose myself again," “I’m so proud of you right now, Ava. I have complete faith in you. Just take it one step at a time, don’t rush into anything, and you will be just fine.”

I OPEN MY EYES the following day to the light streaming in from my apartment window as I adjust to the brightness. Joy

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radiates around me. One piece of the puzzle is back. After weeks and months of soul searching, of endless discussions, I’ve done it. I’ve found a part of myself. I feel lighter, refreshed. I reach across the table and grab my phone, smiling to myself as I dial. The phone rings two times before Alexandre picks up. “Hey.” There is a slight hesitation to his voice. Other than a few text messages, we haven’t spoken since the park. “Hi.” My voice echoes through the hallway as I make my way into the kitchen. “Are you at work?” “No not yet. Is everything okay?” His voice is laced with concern. “I’m fine, I was just wondering if you’re busy in a half an hour? I’m at the apartment. Do you want to meet me?” My heart begins to race as I wait for his response. “Yeah, of course. I’ll come right over.”

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“Okay, umm, just umm…just have Raymond call up when you get there,” I stutter. My stomach flutters in anticipation of what is to come. This will be the first time I’ve seen Alexandre in quite a while. I feel like it’s time. I wait at the apartment, and it takes just a little over half an hour for him to arrive. As he walks through the door, I catch his familiar scent. He smells amazing. Like coffee and confection sugar. A heady combination that leaves my mouth salivating. My visceral reaction is to run into his arms, but I hold myself back, letting him approach. As he steps closer to me, he leans forward to gently place his lips on my cheek. The masculine curve of his unshaven jaw chafes lightly against my chin as he pulls away. His eyes lock on mine, a pleading stare begging me to give him a chance, to try again.

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“Hey, how are you?” His words sound raw as he speaks them. They are laced with fear. “Alexandre, I called you over because I was truly touched by your gesture. But we can’t just go back to the way things were.” His face looks crestfallen as I speak. “God I’m saying this all wrong. This is really hard for me. Okay, there are things we need to discuss—” “I know. Oops sorry, go on.” “I want to do that Alex, I’m ready to talk.” He nods his head, so I continue. “When I first met you, well you know how I was. No dad and a mom that was always working. When I first met you, I thought I was getting a family. I quickly realized that wasn’t the case. I needed you to fight for me. I needed you to treat me like I was important, like I was your family.” “You are my family, and so are they. But you’re right; I never put you first. I’ve made

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some decisions while we have been apart and had actually made some before. I’ve decided to break away from the family business. To be very clear, that’s what I was doing with Natasha.” “Oh yes, Natasha.” I roll my eyes. “What about Natasha?” his voice is laced with confusion. “Did anything...” I can’t find the words. My voice is lost. His eyes go wide with disbelief. “God no, she’s like a little sister to me.” “But look at her.” My eyes look downward, focusing on my black flats, so our eyes won’t meet. “Look at me, Ava.” Lifting my chin, his fixed gaze takes me aback. There is a pained look. “There has never been anyone else for me, just you Ava.” “But she’s gorgeous.” His head shakes at me. “And you’re breathtaking. Plus seriously, have you looked

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at her? Minus the hair, she looks just like my mom,” he states matter-of-factly. I bust out laughing. “Yeah, she does.” My face scrunches, and my lips pucker. “That’s gross.” The tension he is holding in his shoulders relaxes as he lets out a hearty laugh. “Yeah, it is. But truthfully, she has really helped me. She has been experiencing some problems with living under her family’s thumb as well. Those last few weeks when I was with her, we were doing business. We were collecting funds to start our own hedge fund.” “Why didn’t you just tell me?” “I didn’t want to get your hopes up. Listen, I still love my parents, but I recognize that it wasn’t healthy for our relationship to be constantly under their scrutiny. I know I should have told you, I do. I’ve never regretted a decision more, and for that I’m sorry.” “Okay.”

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“Okay?” “Yeah, I know they are your family. And I really did not understand your friendship with Natasha. I guess I trust you with her, and even if I didn’t, I’m not really one to talk.” My gaze focused on the ground, Alexandre lightly lifts my chin. “I’m not going to lie. The events that have occurred recently have been awful. Most couples would likely not even try to figure out what is wrong. But I don’t blame you anymore for what you did. At first I did, but I know I lead you in that direction. I just need you in my life. I can’t find myself anymore, without you I don’t know who I’m. But I need something from you, Ava. It’s your turn to fight for us, I need you to do this.” His voice hitches, “The truth is this, I realize now that this was partially my fault. I led you down this path. I no longer blame you, and I need you to now forgive me. Please, Ava, forgive me.”

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It wasn't his fault. It wasn’t my fault. It was our fault. Together we had self-destructed. Together we had lost sight of our priorities. But he has made the decision to fight for us. Now I need to do the same. Now I need to meet him in the middle. I stand in front of Alexandre, tears streaming down my face, and I know he is right. It’s my turn to fight. “I'm sorry. I’m sorry for being so weak. I'm sorry for wanting more. But most of all I’m sorry for not telling you I loved you enough. Because I did love you. I just got lost. I’m sorry,” I sob. He takes the two strides to me and pulls me into his embrace. I welcome his warmth. It envelops me, calms me, heals me. He’s my home. “Shh, it’s okay, shh we are going to be okay. Sometimes horrible choices can still

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lead to the right destination. It's not where we start that’s important but where we end,” he whispers into my hair. My whimpers stop as I regulate my breathing. He continues to hold me. Cherishing me. Loving me. A few minutes pass, and I take a step back and look up at him. “So now what?” I ask. “We get to know each other again. We make a new beginning.” “I’m just now finding myself. I’m not ready to jump back in to what we were. Are you okay with that?” His beautiful smile warms my heart. I’d forgotten how beautiful he is. I see myself reflected in his eyes, and I catch a vision of how beautiful I am within them. He’s as lost as I am. But maybe together we can find our way.

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“Yes. I’ll do anything to get you back.” His words are a promise. A fate sealed. “I’m seeing a doctor, would you like to join me?” “Yeah, Av. I would.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on my tear-streaked cheek. I know we’re on the brink of something special. A profound moment in the making.

1 week later… Me: Will you come with me tomorrow? Alexandre: Nothing would make me happier than to be there with you.

1 day later…

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IT FEELS STRANGE sitting here with him. To have him beside me in my safe place. Over the years, Alexandre and I had never tackled our issues. We just feigned ignorance, pretending nothing was wrong. Looking back, that was not the right answer. Masking a problem will never make it go away. I was elated when Alexandre said he would accompany me, but soon my elation turned to fear, unadulterated fear. Everything is real now, seeing someone, speaking to someone…admitting we need help is a huge and terrifying step for us. What if after all this it just doesn’t work? What then? But as I run my fingers through my wavy locks I realize the first step to healing emotional wounds is recognition of a problem. We can do this. We had already accomplished the first step. That still didn’t stop my nerves from presenting themselves. My stomach is turning as I wait for one of us to

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speak. The silence in the room is painful to my ears. Dr. Singer clears her throat. The etched lines of her face crease ever so slightly as she opens her mouth to speak. “Hi Alexandre, hi Ava. It’s wonderful to have you both here today.” The lines become deeper as she smiles at us. “I’m sure Ava has told you plenty about me,” he nervously says to her. “Well…I’m not really at liberty to tell.” She winks at him. “Is there anything I can get you before we start? Glass of water maybe?” “How about a shot of vodka?” Alexandre chuckles. “Joking, joking. I’m good.” “Okay, so let’s get started. Is there anything in particular you want to talk about, Ava?” “Well, I guess, I know I talked a little with Alex already about some of the issues we had, but still, I would be lying to say I

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understand. I just, I still don’t understand why he didn’t tell me about his job.” The next hour rushes by in a blur. Alexandre explains his reasoning, and I do my best to hear him out. “You could have spoken to me,” I whisper, biting back an agonizing knot growing inside me. “I couldn’t. I’m not used to talking about what I feel. We don’t do this in my family. It was awful. My father treats me like I’m inferior to him. He controls everything. Every deal. He micromanages everything I do. I couldn’t make any business decisions without him asking me about it. Without him second-guessing me. His condescending nature was suffocating me. I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t sure what my options were. I would have told you I was breaking away, if I knew it was a guarantee. I didn’t want to tell you, and then have something

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happen and have the new business venture fall through…I guess.” “Was it really that bad?’ I softly say from my seat next to him “Of course it was that bad, it was awful. Do you know what it’s like to always be under someone’s thumb, to have your every move watched? Do you know how stressful it is?” “Yes, actually I do. I know how stressful it is to never be good enough for someone.” I watch as the light illuminates and realization kicks in. I did know, I lived under his family’s thumb everyday… “Shit…shit,” he says again shaking his head back and forth. The contours of his face display his anguish. “I just never saw it like that. I never realized it was that bad. I see now. I should have said something, done something, but what was I supposed to do? I was trying to work it out. I needed time. By

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the time I was ready…it was too late for you, I was too late.” “It’s not your fault, I put you in between a rock and a hard place. And in the end I didn’t even let you explain. I just told you to leave.” “Yes, but I should have stayed and talked to you. I didn’t understand, I just didn’t realize it was this bad. I never paid attention to how you felt. I was so busy shutting myself off, I guess." “I felt like I barely existed to you.” “Honestly…you are right. At the time, I didn’t see you, I’m so sorry, but I didn’t.” “I felt like you never loved me, I felt like that…at the time.” “That’s not true, I did…I just…” He stops, and I understand, he is fighting his urge to shutdown, to pull away. In this moment, I finally believe he really is trying. I smile at him and shake my head no. I understand, and he doesn’t have to continue. Dr. Singer looks up at the clock and softly speaks.

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“Okay guys, you did amazing. Our time is up. So here is my advice. Try your hardest to not speak about these issues unless here, in this safe place…okay?” We both agree.

AS THE WEEKS PASS, Alexandre accompanies me to more of my appointments. We discuss everything, but mainly, we discuss that I felt insignificant to him. During the sessions we speak of Ryder, but never what occurred with him, rather what I sought from him. We discuss what is lacking in our relationship. We both had failed each other. We both had broken promises. Dealing with the issues with his family was harder. Alexandre knew no different, so it was hard for him to understand that his parents’ control over us wasn’t healthy. Although he made changes in his life, he didn’t understand the depth of what his mother’s hatred had done

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to me. I knew nothing would change that. That was his mother, and regardless he would always love her, and I would never want him to not. This was one thing that he couldn’t fix. I would just need to learn to not need or seek approval from her. To take her actions with a grain of salt. This was a constant struggle, but I was willing to try it for him.

1 month later…. I’M CHOKED UP from emotion. I know I’m ready, but the thought of not seeing Dr. Singer as a weekly routine has me fearful and sad. My life has changed in leaps and bounds in the last few months. She has helped me see that my world had spun so out of control. Since the day that I walked through this door

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I’ve learned so much and grown so much as a person. I never want to go back to the person I was. I owe my life to Dr. Singer. “Well remember, Ava, I’m always here, you might have reached your destination, but your journey is not complete." “Thank you so much for all you have done for me.” A tear leaves my eye as I reply. Without her I don’t know where I would be. I realize I spent so much time trying to be someone else’s ideal, I forgot how to be me. I learned that loneliness is only a mindset, and if you let it…it can destroy you. I can't hold on to the pain I harbor inside me. I need to rebuild, find my strength, put me first. The road will be long and twisted. Bumps and debris will surely cross my path, but I can’t control other people's actions. I can, however, control my own. So just let it go. Each day brings a new battle, a new realization about myself, but every day I get

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stronger, and the weakness that used to grip my heart is lessening. I’ve learned to regret nothing. I understand and realize that I will forever be changed for every bad thing that happened, and I’m thankful for that. I’m not perfect. I’m perfectly flawed. A beautiful painting from afar, but up close you can see my cracks and bruises. What I now know is that someone will love me for those imperfections. Maybe that someone is Alexandre, maybe it isn’t, but someone will see my flaws and cherish them. I’m not sure where the road will take me, but I know it will be important. And just because I don’t know how it ends, doesn't mean I can’t enjoy the trip.

THAT FRIDAY I FIND myself turning the corner from 21st to Gramercy Park, as I’m about to enter my building I lose myself in a

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familiar gaze standing next to a gas lantern decorating the front façade of the building. “Hi, what are you doing here?” I ask. “We have a date planned," he informs me as his eyes twinkle with mischievousness. They sparkle so green that they remind me of the leaves cascading down across the gates of the park. "We do?” I eye him suspiciously. “Yes, we do.” “And please, pray tell, what is this mysterious date?” He hands me a tiny piece of paper, and as his fingers brush mine, my body becomes charged with excitement. I survey what he has given me, and butterflies take flight in my belly. A tingly feeling spreads throughout my body. "You still have this?" “Of course, Ava.” "I don't understand? Did you have a lobotomy? Who are you? And what have you

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done to my husband?” A huge grin spreads across my face. “No. I just realized a lot when I thought you were gone," his emerald green eyes pierce mine. “And what is that?" “That I don't want to live a life without you.” My heart takes flight, beating uncontrollably in my chest as I try to focus on the paper. In my hand is a map, a cartoon map of New York City. It was what we gave our wedding guests all those years ago on our special day. It shows all the spots that are important to us. “I don’t understand. Are we going to these places?” He nods. “Wait really?” “Yup. We have a standing date…every Friday,” he answers, and his face continues to light up with just…happiness.

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“What have you got up your sleeve?” Tilting my face toward him I eye him with suspicion. “Just trying to make you fall in love with me again,” He takes a step closer to me, securing my hand in his. I wasn’t sure my heart has ever pounded so fast in my life. His fingers reach my face and softly caress my cheek. “Let’s go,” he winks at me, and I can tell this is going to be fun, romantic and…special. As we step out of the cab at Central Park, I remember it like it was yesterday the image depicted on the map is now coming into focus in front of me. As my eyes lock onto the image of Central Park, memories flood my mind. We sat with our bodies adjacent to each other on a picnic blanket in Central Park. We had been dating about 2 months when Alexandre had surprised me with an

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impromptu picnic. The spread was beautiful. Crudites, fine cheeses, Caviar with blinis, and a bottle of Perrier-Jouët Blason Rosé. He had obviously paid attention as that was my favorite. His hand traced circles on my thigh, and he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my lips. I smiled to him and opened my mouth to deepen the kiss. I nibbled on his bottom lip to be playful, and he gently pulled away. “You look incredibly sexy.” The champagne was going straight to my head as I continued my pursuit of acting naughty in the park. He held my hand gently and again leaned forward this time whispering into my ear, “Ava, when we get back to your apartment we will most definitely continue this, but not here.” My lips pouted as he started tickling me. “Smile for me, pretty girl, stop pouting.” His eyes were dilated with lust. “I would, if we could.”

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I smiled at him so thankful and grateful for the romantic gesture of the picnic. No man had ever doted on me like this. There was a certain comfort in him. I sighed to myself and relaxed into his embrace, fully content in us. His lips tickled my ear as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.” As the sun meets the horizon, swirls of color dance in the distance. Darkness creeps in, and the sky becomes ablaze with reds and pinks. Dusk would be coming soon. As I gaze out into the sky, I feel at peace. It is as if nothing can go wrong. Life is beautiful. This moment, this feeling, is beautiful. The warmth caresses my face. I close my eyes and breathe in the peace and tranquility that surrounds me. A single tear slides down my cheek but not of sorrow. This is a rebirth. I will always have to fight the demons that live inside me, but they can no longer take refuge in my mind. I am stronger than that.

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We walk side my side, occasionally touching, the contact leaving goose bumps down my arm. He smiles at me warmly while crossing the street to enter Central Park. The horse drawn carriages line up along the avenue. “Do you remember?” he softly asks me, his eyes searching mine for the memory buried so deep, that it is almost lost. I nod to him, biting down on my lip as the memories rush back “Any interest?” I nod once again. Alexandre steps into the buggy, reaching his hand out to help me up. With my hand in his grasp, I feel him lovingly caress me. Sitting next to him, the heat of his body radiates through me. So close yet barely touching. I wait, trying to slow my breathing, waiting for him to close the distance. His gaze was not on me, but rather on the

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horizon. Staring, deep in thought at the full moon, I felt his hand reach across the confines of the blanket that covered our laps, and he slowly yet very deliberately stroked my hand. My heart hammered in my chest as the time came slowing to a standstill. Each inhale made the butterflies dance faster in my belly. Just when I thought I couldn't take much more, he reached up to my face, and his fingers slowly caressed my chin turning it ever so slightly to give him his opening. Our eyes locked, he leaned in a little closer. I could feel his breath on my lips. Almost as if I was inhaling him in, I closed my eyes and leaned into him. The sound of horses’ hooves brings me back to my surroundings. The air is crisp, a faint smell of leaves permeates my senses. My eyes track over his face, catching on his full lips. The longing for his kiss is palpable. I’m eager to feel the soft caress of his mouth

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on mine. As he descends, I feel ravenous. I had forgotten how he tasted, his smell, the way his hands felt as they trailed up my body. My heart beats erratically, as excitement courses through my veins. I wrap my arms around his neck, the tiny hairs tickling my fingertips. The warmth of his mouth is comforting me, soothing my soul. We slow our pace and slowly pull away. Alexandre gently presses his lips on mine, once, twice, and a final time. As he trails the final one, I can feel him smile as he speaks. "No matter what you think…No matter what you feel, I will love you forever… You are my forever.” I lean into his kiss. “For someone who can’t express his feelings, you are doing a rather good job.” “Sometimes the risk is so great we are forced to change.” I can feel the warmth from his lips still on mine, the curve of a smile still present.

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This moment is unlike any before. I feel reborn. Our carriage ride through the park is met with tiny kisses and stolen embraces. When we finally exit the ride it is as if we transported back in time, to the beginning…only better. My eyes have been opened to what this may become.

One week later… I FIND HIM STANDING next to one of the medieval statues that line the entrance of our building. Alexandre leans forward and gently places a kiss on my cheek as he lets me in on our next location…the New York Public Library. We decide to walk the twenty two blocks, stopping at a street vendor to share a pretzel. The distance feels like nothing as we laugh and reminisce. We talk about everything and nothing. I tell him about my

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sessions with Dr. Singer and my attempts at journaling my life; he tells me how his business is doing. Before we know it, we round the corner at 40th street and are greeted with one of my favorite architectural structures in all of Manhattan. Two large marble lions stand proudly in front of the building. They appear to be guarding the treasure that lives within. The building, which is crafted out of pink Tennessee marble, might for some seem a bit ostentatious, but to me, it’s awe-inspiring. A literary piece of heaven for all to share. Hand in hand we make our way into the imposing structure. Taking each grand step, we make our way inside. Although millions of dollars were used to renovate from the original built in 1895, you would never know as you step into the classic New York landmark. The integrity of the structure was never lost, just enhanced. Dimly lit, classic art adorns the

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ceiling leading into the famous Rose Main Reading Room. As we sit down at a long rectangular table, we take seats directly across from each other. Alexandre sits but quickly lifts his him to pull something from his jeans pocket. He takes out a piece of folded up paper, surprisingly enough he also has a pen in his jeans. He begins to scribble on the paper. Hi He slides the paper toward me. Hey I write back before pushing it back to him. His hands start to put words on paper, and I wait patiently to see what he has to say.

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So how am I doing? Scale of 1 to 10? I laugh. An elderly lady sitting diagonally across from me shoots me a disapproving glare. Her pointy nose scrunches up with distaste. I place my hand quickly over my mouth to muffle the sounds escaping against my best attempt to stop them. I’m mortified as I can’t stop myself from laughing contagiously. My cheeks heat up, blushing uncontrollably. Breathing in a few times, I regulate myself and write back. So far a solid 8.5 As he reads the note he fights his own laughter. Sweeping my long hair away from my face I smile at him. We stare at each other and time stands still. I look up to the ceiling and become lost in the mural painted above. A canopy of vibrant blue skies and

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clouds hovers above me in simplistic beauty. Lowering my eyes back to Alexandre, our eyes lock for several minutes before his attention is back on what he should write. He pauses in contemplation. Do you want to go outside to talk? I look into his eyes, and I can see the depths of the pain lying within them from all the mistakes we have made. I sit absolutely still. The air around me becomes thick with remorse, but I remember that I cannot step backwards. Nodding my head, he stands up and we start to make our way outside. As we begin walking I notice that sitting atop of the long oak table is an oversized book. Reaching out, I place my fingertips gently on the old pages of a dictionary. As I touch the inside words, light flickers off the bronze lamps adjacent to the large book. The room is bathed in a glow from the lamps and sunlight

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streaming in through the large windows. I look at Alexandre…the copper highlights in his hair reflecting the illumination. Smiling, he takes my hand in his and gives it a little squeeze. “Let’s go sit on the steps. Okay?” He continues to hold me as we make our way outside, and as he pushes the door open, he places the palm of his hand on the small of my back, sending a rush of heat through me. “Shall we sit here?” I draw in a slow breath as he speaks, turning my face to him I smile brightly. “This is perfect.” “I love to see you smile.” He takes a short shallow breath, and then he exhales. “The thing is Ava…I love everything about you, and I’m sorry for every comment I ever said to you to make you feel otherwise.” His fingers rub circles across my spine, the silence stretching between us. “It’s so silly, Alexandre, but at the time I wanted to be someone’s reason for

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breathing. I know that’s not rational…or even healthy. But back then I was neither.” “That’s not silly or irrational. You are, you know? You are my reason for breathing. Without you Ava…there is no need for oxygen, without you…that’s not a life I’d ever want to live.” He places his free hand in mine and gently strokes my hand. “God I missed you. Everything happened so fast. We got married so fast. We missed the part where we discussed our goals, our dreams. Then over time the distance between us settled in…This time I want us to dream together. I want a future with you. I want a family with you. I want to grow old with you.” “Alexandre.” He gently swipes the tear that trails down my cheek. His fingers trace the outline of my lips. My eyes flutter closed. The warmth emanates off his skin as he descends upon me. He smells like home. “I want you to keep me this time,” I whisper against his lips.

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“Now that I have you…I’m never letting you go.” His lips capture mine, and I feel the tender brush of his tongue along my bottom lip. My mouth parts allowing him in. A heady feeling blossoms in me… I welcome his touch. I crave it. I need more. I snake my arms around his neck, getting as close as I can to him as he deepens the kiss. Slow. Gentle. This kiss…it’s everything. This kiss…it’s perfect. He holds me tightly to his chest as he places a soft kiss on the top of my head. We stay entwined in each other’s arms until we hear the faint sound of a child’s giggle. Alexandre’s body shakes as he laughs, slowly pulling away, a warm grin spreads across his

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face. His eyes twinkly with delight, gently he cups my face. “I love you, Ava.”

“THAT WAS SO AMAZING, thank you for taking me there,” I say as we begin our walk back to the apartment. I reach my arm out and secure my arm in his. “Maybe one day, your book will be there.” He smirks at me. “Do you think I really should do it?” I question. “Yes, totally. It will be amazing.” “No, not really…it will just be me.” “Exactly.” His words disarm me, his meaning clear. As we finally reach home, Alexandre walks me up. As we enter the hallway the only sound is that of our own footsteps. We approach the door, and I pull out my key chain. The jingles ring out in my hand as the gold park key makes contact with the others.

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“I had a wonderful time.” He takes a step forward, and on instinct I step away, my back hitting the door. “Until next week.” His voice is fluid like warm honey. He lifts his hand to gently caress my face, running his fingers across my cheek and down my chin until his thumb is teasing at my collarbone peeking out from my skin-colored camisole. Breathing hard, I close the distance. His mouth glides over mine. His tongue teases my lips to open. As I taste him, my mouth opens on its own accord, allowing him entry. He kisses me softly, moving in a slow, delicious motion before nipping at my bottom lip and pulling away. The perfect ending to the perfect day. Perfection can be the simplest things.

AS THE NEW WEEK begins, I find myself anxiously awaiting my Friday date. The week drags on with little to entertain myself. Monday, I find myself rereading a classic and catching up on my reviews for the blog that have been put on the backburner since I started my recovery. Tuesday brings the reorganization of my sock and underwear drawer. Finally, it’s Friday and the buzzer rings indicating he has arrived. I find myself running into his arms and melting into his embrace. Wrapping my

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arms around his middle, I hold him so tightly I can almost not make out where my body stops and his begins. “Miss me?” He chuckles. “More than you know.” “Then my work here is done.” “Oh is that so?” A challenge in my voice. “Yup.” I shrug my shoulders with indifference and pretend to walk away. He stifles back a laugh as he pulls me to him. My heartbeat quickens as his lips descend to mine. I press my lips together and pucker them tightly, but I fail miserably at pretending to be mad as I laugh so hard a snort escapes. “Oh my God Ava.” He releases a deep belly laugh. “Did you just snort?” I groan in protest although a light laugh accompanies my reply. “No, I didn’t snort, you are hearing things.” “God, I love you.” Our eyes lock; I’m transfixed. All that reflects in his unwavering

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gaze is absolute adoration. I shift uncomfortably as I speak. “My heart says I love you. My brain is just trying to catch up” “I can wait.” The baritone of his voice leaves me hypnotized. I’m not sure how much time passes as we stare at each other. It’s only broken as he speaks while glancing at his Patek Philippe watch. “We should get out of here.” We make our way to the street and Alexandre hails a cab. I’m vibrating with anticipation with the knowledge that soon we will reach the destination of our next location. I could barely sit during our ride, bouncing like a little girl in a candy store, but in my case a little girl about to eat a decadent surprise. As we pull up to the familiar locale, my mouth waters in anticipation. Just like Pavlov’s dog. I can’t order fast enough as my grin grows wider and wider as the twentysomething girl behind the counter fills my

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order. Within minutes, we walk hand in hand down the narrow streets in the West Village to the sound of the cars passing. It sounds like a peaceful flow. We are carrying a box of vanilla cream filled chocolate cookies from Milk And Cookies on Commerce Street. As we make it to the Hudson River, the waters are peaceful, only reflecting the full moon. It sparkles and glitters off the surface. We sit down on a green wooden bench right off the West Side Highways bike path. We enjoy the sight of the boats drifting by. I take a bite of my cookie, the taste almost hard to describe. Pure indulgence…decadent on my tongue. A throwback to the fun childhood days, of birthday parties, and special times. Alexandre leans into me, placing his mouth on mine. I feel his tongue gently licking at the cream that had collected. A whimper escapes my mouth.

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“You’re delicious,” he says as he pulls away. “That’s just the cookie.” “No that’s you.” His voice is sweet and velvety...like chocolate. The silence stretches for an eternity as we pick up our cookies and continue to eat. “Do you remember that day Alex, the first time we went to Milk and Cookies?” I pause waiting for his memory to return. “You said no one would take my place.” “No one did, Ava” “No, not really. I never really had a place, so how could someone?” “You always had a place, I just didn't know how to express it. And I’m sorry for that,” he says. “I really thought I lost you that night, and the next day at the hospital, when you told me to leave…” I shake my head “No, I was never lost, I was just misplaced.”

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The lights illuminate the water. As I watch the colors slowly disintegrate as the boats pull away, I realize I’m truly at peace. I capture this moment in my mind… I memorize it. Cherish it. With each passing minute, I understand real love builds slowly. We are falling in love again, and it feels like for the very first time…

THE NEXT MORNING I stretch out my arms above my head and shake the sleep away. I feel my leg vibrate, and realize I’m still in my clothes from last night. My phone has come alive beside me. I must have fallen asleep when talking to Alexandre, and as it vibrates again I realize I must have accidentally slept on it…oops. “What’s up, Chica?” I say as I answer. “Not much. What’s going on with you? Did I wake you?”

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“Oh my God I have so much to tell you. No. I just woke up. Last night was amazing. Absolutely amazing. He took me to Milk and Cookies…He is so yummy,” I’m rambling, my words are coming out so fast from excitement. I doubt she can even understand me. “Whoa, slow your roll. Cookies, huh? That is super cute. What else did you guys do?” I proceed to tell her about the amazing date. How amazing Alexandre has been, about how we are working things out. “It’s so crazy how things have changed. I mean after everything with Ryder.” “You know we don’t say his name, let’s chalk him up to a one night stand gone wrong.” Jules and I laugh at my assessment of him. “Or right, the one who will not be named…” “This is true. No names. Dude I was pathetic…who does that?” I ask her.

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“It's real life. This is what happens. We fall. In truth, can you even hate him? How can you hate someone who was instrumental in the road to finding yourself?” “I can think of a few ways,” I laugh. “Seriously though, everyone comes into your life for a reason, sometimes their purpose is to teach you about yourself. Sometimes the middle is more important than the conclusion.” The journey is what is really important. If it weren’t, you would just skip to the end. “God, Jules do you always have to be all existential and shit?” My voice is rimmed with happiness and laughter. “You know how much I love you, right?” “Yes, I do, I’m pretty amazing.” “Modest much?” “Nope. No need to be modest, I’m fanfucking-tastic. I know you secretly dream of being me.”

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“Oh for the love of all things holy, really? You’re a fucking idiot. Hysterical, but an idiot.” “And you, my dear, are hopeless.” “What do you mean hopeless?” I almost wink at her but instead I laugh to myself, idiot she can’t even see you. You’re on the phone. “Well, sweetie…you have no hope,” she replies in a singsong voice. “Any news on Volde…the one who shall not be named?” she asks. “No, I think I saw on Facebook he has a new book coming out.” “Really?” “Yeah, hold up I'm going to look it up.” I pull my phone away from my ear and place it on speaker. “Hold up, Jules, you’re on speaker okay?” I click the Facebook app, and type in Ryder Matthews in the search engine. It feels odd. I haven’t done this in so long. Time had

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passed, I had changed, and thankfully one thing was obvious as his profile picture pulled up…I no longer yearned for him. I scrolled down his feed…and there was a teaser picture and a pre-order buy link. Underneath the buy link was the word: Synopsis. “Oh shit,” the words come out in a whisper of confusion. “What?” “Holy fuck.” “Oh my God, Av, spit it out” “Holy fucking shit, Jules.” “Oh my God, you’re killing me.” Wow, I have no words at all as I read the cryptic blurb to the latest in the serial by ‘the one who shall not be named.’ “Let me read the blurb to you,” and as my voice shakes I relay the words to Jules that make my blood run cold.

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She treated me like a puppet, tried to keep me on her beck and call. Expected me to help bring her money, to lure in potential donors. Using my looks and name… But I would have the last laugh, and as I drink my three thousand dollar bottle of Louis XIII, I smile to myself and plan how I will bring down the ice queen. “You don't think he’s talking about her do you?” I ask in disillusionment. “Does it really matter?” “No,” and it didn’t. In the end…Ryder and Lenore are insignificant in my life now. Although I will always have her in my life…now Lenore is barely a thought, and she deserves what is coming to her. And Ryder… As much as I want to hate him, I can’t. If it weren’t for him…I would’ve never found

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myself. I would have never believed in love again. Instead when he is in my thoughts, sadness overcomes me for him. He will never be happy; he will never be content. No one will live up to his expectations, and in the end he is the only one who is truly lost. Later that day, I find myself looking in the mirror. I take note of my reflection. I’m beautiful, and when I smile my eyes dance. It took a long time for me to realize and then believe that I’m beautiful because of my imperfections. I used to look at others for approval; my self-worth was a reflection of what others thought of me. But I no longer felt this way. Dr. Singer helped me see it. I wasn’t a reflection of them. When others looked at me with disgust they were simply looking at a mirror of the traits they hated in themselves. What I wonder to myself now is how many women have gone through this? How many women have felt alone? How many women have felt broken?

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He had tried to break me, but in the end I’d had the last laugh because now I’m free. I’m finally free.

THE WEEK COMES AND goes. Daily outings to keep myself busy and nightly phone calls to Alexandre make the week fly by. When the next Friday arrives, I find myself sitting and waiting for Alexandre to arrive. As I wait, I ponder what we will be doing tonight. Alexandre had been very vague, only telling me to dress in comfortable shoes and to be ready at 8 pm. I knew that all of the locations on the original wedding map had been done already, so I was completely

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dumbfounded as to what he could have up his sleeve. When Alexandre instructs me to put on a blindfold, my excitement peaks tenfold. I can barely contain myself as right before I place it on my face, I notice him hand our cab driver a piece of paper with our next and final destination written down. The ride is no longer than ten minutes, and before I know it the cab is pulling over to the side of the road and coming to a stop. I have no idea where I am. I tried to pay attention to the turns as he had driven but quickly became lost and turned around. Alexandre takes my hand and pulls me out. He pulls me close to him; his smell penetrates me. I want to bury my face into his chest and never leave. His fingertips remove the covering from my eyes. My vision is temporary blinded as my eyes fight to refocus, then I see the

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Brooklyn Bridge in front of me, spanning across the East River. “What are we doing here? I grin and ask in delight. His voice drops an octave. “You once told me, years ago, that you loved bridges. I wanted to give you something you loved. I wanted to create new memories. I’ve realized that without you, Ava, there could be no beauty in my world.” A feeling of love sweeps over me, through me. I turn to him and snake my arms around his neck. “When I close my eyes, I can still see the lights. This is amazing, thank you.” Alexandre’s eyes lock on mine, and I can see them sparkle. My heart is hammering in my chest as I place my lips on his. I can feel the warmth of his lips and the familiar taste I love so much. As he deepens the kiss, I can hear a horn sound in the distance, and I’m forced to pull away, breaking the delicious kiss as I remember our location. I look

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around me and take in my surroundings. From this location on the Brooklyn Bridge I can see The Manhattan Bridge twinkling in the distance. Past that I can see Williamsburg Bridge. The New York skyline is alive in the distance as the lights atop each structure dance in the night. I might be biased, but this is by far the most enchanting evening of my life. Alexandre has me completely captivated. An hour later, and as the date draws to a close, I find myself lying on Alexandre’s lap on our living room couch. “I don’t want to go to sleep,” I whisper in a gentle voice. “Tomorrow brings new beginnings, Ava, close your eyes.” His hand begins to trace circles on my back, running down my spine to the swell of my hip. “Don’t say goodbye,” I breathed out on a sigh as my body relaxed into his touch. “I won’t…” He holds me until my eyes grow heavy.

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“Can you,” my words come out mumbled as sleep begins to find me, “if I fall again, can you catch me?” “Don’t you know by now? I will always catch you,” he says, and those are the last words I hear as I finally succumb to sleep. I wake some time later on the couch. Alexandre is fast asleep next to me. His face is so peaceful, he looks so young. “I never stopped loving you. I thought I did, but you made me remember,” I whisper to him, he can’t hear me, but it feels good telling him anyway. I place a gentle kiss on his head as I stand and go to the bathroom. When I return, I curl into his body. “Where did you go?” he asks with sleep still in his voice. “Just the bathroom.” “It felt like you were gone forever.” He places a light kiss on my forehead. Blearyeyed I look at him.

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“I was only gone a moment,” I mutter back, my last bit of energy draining out of me. “It was still too long,” he whispers. My eyeslids flutter closed as I drift back into a deep sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING I wake up alone. There is a folded note on the couch pillow next to me. I can’t believe we had slept here, and even though it was both of us scrunched up on a couch, it was the deepest sleep I’d had in ages. I lift the white paper creased down the center. Lifting the edge, I open it.

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One thing I know for certain is that I’m not perfect. And neither is Alexandre. But I’ve come to accept that together we can be. I pop up from the couch and run to the bathroom to tidy myself up. I look like I, well, slept scrunched up on the couch cuddled up with someone. Not just anyone. Alexandre. I quickly jump in the shower, and after I get dressed and freshened up, I then keep

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myself busy with cleaning the kitchen. I’m about to make a pot of coffee for us, and as I fill the water, Alexandre walks into the kitchen. He looks dashing as always, not at all like he slept on a couch. Of course. As our eyes meet, he looks at me with a flirtatious smile that I haven't seen in years. “What are you doing, babe?” I can hear the desire in his voice. It makes my heart beat erratically, my pulse accelerate, and my body feel weightless. “Grabbing a coffee. What are you doing? I wasn't expecting you back so soon.” “I hurried back…I missed you if I’m being truthful. I couldn't stop thinking of you laying on the couch sleeping, so I decided to bypass a shower and come back.” I couldn't help but melt. I wasn't sure who this man was, but I never wanted him to leave. Had he been here all along and I had just forgotten? Had he forgotten? He pulls me toward the counter. Lifting me by my

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arms and placing me on the cold marble countertop, my skirt hitches up, and I can feel the stone grazing my bare legs. My pulse picks up, my legs quiver, begging to be touched. His fingers trace circles on my upper thigh, my skirt pushes up further. Our eyes lock, and I realize it's okay for me to love him again. It’s the small things that make you fall in love, the tiny incidental moments you take for granted. This was a moment. “I love you,” I whisper. His eyes still fixed on mine. He leans down. His face burrows in the crook of my neck. He places soft kisses. Each pass of his tongue sends chills up my body as he makes contact with my sensitive skin. He leaves a trail of kisses until his lips capture mine. A wave of pleasure rushes through my body. My breathing grows ragged. He scoops me up into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist. Our connection never breaks as he walks us into the

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bedroom. He lays me down in our bed and continues his delicious assault. Slowly he undresses me… Shoulders bare. Soft fingers tease at my collarbone. Skirt removed. Goose bumps run up the length of my porcelain legs. His eyes sweep over me. “Beautiful.” He lays his body on mine, drawing me closer. Waves of emotions rush over me. Love, Trust. He is my soul. Feathery kisses… Bodies entwined… Breathless anticipation… “I missed this, I missed you, Ava.” Our bodies come together in sweet perfection, tears well in my eyes, and fall slowly down my cheek. His fingers gently touching my face…tracing the tears. This moment unlike any before.

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“I love you. I love you. I love you,” I say as we join. Melding into each other, rising together to crescendo. My body soars. My kisses become ravenous.. Tugging. Nipping. His name falls frantically from my lips as I break apart. At this moment, in this second…we only exist together. One.

HOURS LATER, I find myself standing in front of the painting, and I stare at her. Alexandre walks up behind me. He trails soft kisses on the bare skin on my shoulder. “What are you thinking?” he whispers in my ear. “I thought at first this painting symbolized my weakness, anyone’s weakness. But now I see that each flaw makes someone more perfect.”

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Some might think I should get rid of it, purge myself of my troubled past. But for me, she is a good reminder. I think she will always give me strength when I stray in my thoughts about myself or forget the importance of what the past has done for my present. Looking at her now reminds me how far I fell, and how I found my way back and persevered. I tried so long to be ideal, now I just want to be me. Sometimes I just sit here and lose myself in the painting. She is an imperfect truth. She is the culmination of tiny fractures making one perfectly imperfect person. To me…she is beautiful. My failures don't define me. Rather they are what make me who I am, and I strive to live each day imperfectly. “Ava.” I feel his gentle fingers tickle my skin as he places and clasps a necklace on me. I lightly lift my finger to examine the

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delicate piece of jewelry that adorns my neck. A beautiful rose gold skeleton key sparkles brilliantly as the light reflects off the diamonds that decorate the surface. “What's this for?” I ask. “You always said you felt you were locked in a cage...I’m giving you back the key. Only you can dictate your life.” I laugh softly. “Why are you laughing?” I turn my wrist ever so slightly; dangling alongside my watch is a tarnished key bracelet. A sly smile spreads across my face as I move the bracelet and my watch to display a tiny black skeleton key tattoo hidden beneath the timepiece. “I already released myself from my selfimposed prison. I hold the key to my happiness. This bracelet…I had it made. It has the word ‘imperfect’ etched into the surface. It is to give me the strength and courage to own my flaws.” I look up at him. Our eyes lock,

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peace and serenity flow through me to him. He shoots me a knowing smile and speaks… “Don’t mistake-” His lips tickle me as he places a delicate kiss on the tattoo. “Coincidence for fate.” The symbol of his love releases a wave of pure adoration through me. I sigh in satisfaction as he turns me and takes my hand in his, leading me to the couch. As we sit down I turn to him. “Would you take it back? Would you change anything? I know that if I could press rewind on my life, I wouldn’t. Every move brought me here, brought me closer to this.” My body trembles slightly under his warm fingertips that are running up my arms to my neck. He places his thumb under my chin, turning me toward his face, his vivid green eyes meet mine. “Sometimes we have to get lost to be found, I wouldn’t change a thing, every moment every gesture, brought you here, lead you to this particular juncture in your life.”

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He agrees leaving me in a perpetual state of disbelief by how wonderful he is. “I love you fiercely Ava, I always have.” Alexandre reaches over to the console table and grabs my laptop computer. As he sits next to me, he places the computer on the ottoman directly in front of me. I look at the computer, then at him smiling at me. My thoughts drift to Dr. Singer… Dr. Singer. I laugh to myself as I think of the task she has outlined for me. Journaling my life, purging my soul. She says it will be cathartic, only time will tell… Deep down I believe I have a story to tell. Not just about not giving up on what is right before you, but that there are always things that come along in your life that will make you reevaluate. My story is just a journey for me. But if one woman hears my tale and is better for it, it will be worth it. I will get my own form of justice.

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I will start from when everything started to unravel with Alexandre. From back when his indifference and my own jealousy caused me to see things that were never there. From when I became so blinded by my own guilt that I almost rewrote my future. That will be the beginning. The moment it all changed. The day I met Ryder. I glance across the couch, and our eyes meet. A soft smile lines his face. Our hands rest within each other's. I can feel the gentle friction of his hand drawing circles on mine. To think how far we have come. I close my eyes to savor the moment, and opening them I look into his. The love that fills them lifts me higher, and I know it's time, time to finally move forward and bury my demons. He leans forward, his mouth grazing mine. The invasion of his lips is welcome. A soft whimper escapes. He lovingly caresses my back as he pulls away and places his lips gently on

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my forehead. His lips proclaim what his words can't say, giving me the encouragement I need to do this. As I gently release his hand, he nods with approval as I collect my laptop from the ottoman sitting at my feet. Sometimes I still can't believe we have made it here, but we are stronger now, finally, and if possible I love him more today than I ever did in the past. Placing my finger on the keyboard, I start. My fingers are ready to type, taking on a mind of their own. My life once an untold story, now will forever be preserved on paper. I realize now the most liberating moment, is the moment you finally let go.

Imperfect Truth By Ava Harrison

Dedicated to the ones who broke me. Without you, I would never have had the strength to rebuild.

dis·en·gaged disen___jd/ Adjective: emotionally detached. The Beginning...

Acknowledgements

This book has been a journey very near to my heart. Sometimes in life you go through a rough time, self-medicating is never the answer. If you are struggling, please consider speaking to a professional. Thank you to my Dr. S. You helped me find myself and I will forever be thankful. First and foremost I want to thank my family. I have the most wonderful, untraditional family in the world...and I love you all. Thank you for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for the endless encouragement and the positive words. Thank you to my husband for sparking a story within me. I will never forget the day we sat on the couch, and you told me to write it. I love you, baby.

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Thank you to all the amazing indie companies that helped mold my words. Pink Ink Designs Chelsea Kuhel (www.madisonseidler.com) Indie After Hours Alchemy and Words Behind the Writer Thank you to the graphic genius of Hang le. Thank you to DOCART for creating the art. She is an imperfect truth, and I love her. Thank you to FLIRTY SUBS PR. Neda, working with you has been amazing. Thank you for taking a chance on a debut author. I want to thank all my beta readers! You are my rocks. The endless emails, pm's and phone calls. Thank you for not hanging up or ignoring my incessant questions. I want to thank my friends...

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My “Soulmate” I thank my lucky stars that you came into my life. You are my sanity. I love you! My “Confidant” L.M. you are my confidant! Always have been, always will be. I love you. My “Abby” This book would never have happened if it weren't for you. You loved this story as if it was your own, and I thank you for that. My “E.S.J.” I love you girl. Thank you for all your help and your friendship over the years. My “Sisters” Thank you for being there for me. It's been a bumpy road through the years, thank you for putting up with my crap. A.J. Thank you for your friendship and your advice. <3 you. J.R. Thank you for being my cheerleader and for such great advice. <3 you. M.A. Over the last year, your advice has inspired me. Thank you.

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L.S. Thank you for all your help and believing in this story. J.A. Thank you for giving me the courage to do this! To all my "Jules" Jules was the culmination of some very wonderful women. Thank you. Your friendships are indispensable to me. I love you all. Thank you to all the bloggers! Thank you for your excitement and love of books! Thank you for spreading your love and helping others fall in love too. Thank you to The Giving Keys. Your message is truly beautiful. The keys you made for this book are truly "Perfect" The engraved key that Ava wears in the book is based on The Giving Key. The idea behind The Giving Key is that each key is engraved with a message. "Their message is yours for a time, but once they've served their purpose with you, pay it forward to inspire another."

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Last but certainly not least... Thank you to the readers! Thank you so much for taking this journey with me. I hope you will, please consider joining my Perfectly Flawed Support Group on Facebook. The goal of this group and my book is to help women own their imperfections. This group is to help us remember that every single one of us...is perfectly imperfect.

About the Author

Ava Harrison is a New Yorker, born and bred. When she’s not journaling her life, you can find her window shopping, cooking dinner for her family, or curled up on her couch reading a book. Connect Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pages/AvaHarrison/984568204896418?fref=ts Twitter @avaharrison333 Pinterest https://www.pinterest.com/ avaharrison333/

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Playlist https://open.spotify.com/user/avaharrison333/playlist/ 4Pwc4vQNpPTFVpmfKaXIUi

Excerpts John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne Letters to the Immortal Beloved -Letter July 7,1812 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Immortal_Beloved (1) For a transcription of the German original, see Brandenburg (2001). The Letter was also published by Brandenburg (1996), Letter #582, and Goldschmidt (1980), pp. 21-23; facsimile p. 240 f. An early English translation was offered by Anderson (1961), Letter #373; a much better translation is by Beahrs (1990). (2) “John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne”

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