In the end, he’d decided he should probably just leave her alone, let her find somebody who deserved her. It was better for Aaron to stick to the types of women his cousin was always introducing him to, instead. They might’ve all been horrendous mismatches for him so far, but at least they were wise to the ways of the world. If Aaron did eventually connect with one, he wouldn’t have to handle her with kid gloves.
And now there was Ava to think about, anyway.
Typing rapidly, he texted her:
Hey, Ava, I’m at the Red Palm by myself, and it’s feeling pretty lonely. Any chance you can come over and meet me here?
She texted back right away, I thought you were meeting Neil tonight?
Aaron: Yeah, well, he had to leave all of a sudden.
Ava: Oh. Well, I’m busy right now, sorry.
Aaron: Ok. No prob, just thought I’d check. Guess there’s always this weekend, right? I'm looking forward to it. You?
Ava: Oh. Actually, I meant to tell you when we talked earlier…I’m going to be busy then, too. In fact, I’ll probably be all booked up for…well, for a while from now on.
Huh?
Suspicion simmered at the back of Aaron’s mind, making his temples start to throb.
But next week. We’re still going to the theater together, right?
Ava: Aaron, I’m sorry, but work’s really piling up on me right now. My boss is breathing down my neck…You know how it goes.
Aaron: But I’ve got tickets!
Ava: Yeah, and it’s a popular show. I’m sure you can resell the tix w/out any prob. Check StubHub. I’ve had luck there before.
Now his suspicion bubbled up to a boil.
What are you really saying, Ava? Are you dumping me?
Ava: Aaron, don’t be a baby. ‘Dumping’ is a little melodramatic. It’s not like we were officially back together or anything.
Aaron felt his insides lurch. No, he thought. No, she couldn’t be doing this to him. Not again!
Ava, you’re the one who got back in touch with ME. You said you wanted to ‘reconnect.’
Ava: And we did. Now I remember why things didn’t work out for us the first time. You and I aren’t really on the same page about things, now are we?
Aaron: What things? Since when?
But he already knew the answers.
They hadn’t been ‘on the same page’ since this afternoon—when she’d called him at the office and he’d told her he was quitting Acray-Sys. She’d made it pretty clear what she’d thought about that decision. Still, he hadn’t thought she would turn around and dump him.
Aaron frowned at his phone, re-reading the accusatory question he’d texted her, and waiting for a response. When she didn’t send one, he fired off another message.
Can I call you? Can we talk?
He didn’t give her a chance to answer, he just dialed.
She picked up, but their short, tense conversation didn’t solve anything.
After he’d hung up, Aaron felt light-headed and sick to his stomach, as though the world had spun out from under him. AGAIN.
He couldn’t believe it. How could he be so stupid?
AGAIN?
Feeling small and degraded, he finished his beer and ordered another one. He finished that one, too, and then ordered a double shot of whiskey. As he reached for the glass, his rapidly blurring vision latched onto Lucy’s postcard, still resting on the bar next to his coaster. He snatched it up and flipped it over. There was a half-naked vampire printed on the front of it, with some busty redheaded chick draped all over him, pouting. A Prince at Midnight? he thought, chuckling inwardly What is he the rest of the time? Then he wished Lucy were sitting next to him, because she would’ve appreciated that silly joke. Or she would have at least pretended to. Because Aaron’s feelings mattered to her.
Unlike some people.
Ugh, he thought. Lucy really should be the one sitting here with me. I should’ve called her in the first place.
The realization made his heart pinch with longing, and he dropped the card and scrubbed his hand over his face.
Screw it, he thought, tossing back what was left of his drink. Like I told her, it’s not like I’ll be her boss for too much longer, anyway. He speed-dialed his assistant’s number and got her voicemail.
“Lucy, it’s me, Aaron,” he said after the beep. And then he went off, pouring out all of his hidden opinions about his executive assistant, all the workplace-inappropriate thoughts and feelings he’d kept bottled up for the past eight months. Among other things, he told her how cute he thought she looked in the new glasses she’d just gotten, and that he appreciated how her hair always smelled like peaches. He mentioned that he loved the way she frowned and caught her lower lip between her teeth when she was writing down whatever he was saying during their morning meetings. He told her he ‘loved the way her brain worked’—by which he meant he knew he could always count on her to have some useful idea when he was stuck on a project or trying to figure out a problem.
He even went so far as to admit that it turned him on sometimes, to hear her on the phone with other people, referring to him as ‘Mr. Ames.’
Finally, he sighed and finished, “So. It looks like I won’t be taking Ava out next week after all. Or ever again. So, um…I was wondering if you still wanted to go to Jessica’s party?” He held the postcard up in front of his bleary eyes again. The party didn’t start until ten, he remembered. “And, uh, maybe you’d want to grab a pizza with me, first? There’s this hole in the wall I like to go to…Well, never mind, I’ve probably already told you all about it before.” He gave a
