Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
But then anger bursts within me, an emotion I’ve never revealed to her. “That’s not fair, Connie. Every single time you call me, I give of myself, and I do it without any reservations or limitations. I’m telling you it’s a game day, and I do not have time to talk about this right now. I am so sorry you’re hurting, and I will call you tomorrow. I hope you pick up so we can share memories of Melissa. Okay?”
There’s silence on the other end, and I know I’ve shocked her. A soft murmur comes through. “Okay.”
And then she hangs up.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I toss the phone on the bedside table before scrubbing my hands over my face.
Ava steps out of the bathroom, still holding her clothes before her. I realize she didn’t close the door when she went in.
“I expect you want to know who Connie is?” I ask.
Ava looks like a deer frozen in the headlights. I can only imagine what my end of that conversation sounded like.
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
With a sigh, I push off the bed and walk toward her. She stands her ground, still clutching her clothes in front of her like they’re armor.
I put a hand to the back of her neck and press my mouth to hers. “Let’s get dressed and eat lunch. And I’ll tell you about my mother-in-law.”
Ava jolts when she hears the words mother-in-law. I tighten my grip and give her a sheepish smile. “Is she still considered a mother-in-law even though I’m not technically married because her daughter died?”
“I don’t know,” Ava whispers.
“Me neither, but I care about her still, and sadly, I’m her only sounding board.”
“That sounded like a hard conversation.”
“They’re never fun,” I agree, pressing another kiss to her forehead before releasing her.
To my surprise, Ava drops her clothing and takes my hand. She threads her fingers through mine and leads me back to the bed.
Pulling the covers back, she slides in and beckons me to follow. I hesitate for a moment because talking about a painful and guilt-ridden part of my life seems like it would be easier over deli sandwiches.
Having Ava naked in a bed with her arms wrapped around me seems not only too intimate, but almost too comforting.
I should insist we get dressed and go eat, but it’s ultimately her beautiful eyes that ensnare me. Her expression is open and accepting of whatever I’m getting ready to lay on her doorstep, so I slide under the cool sheets with her.
At this point, I’ve committed to sharing, so I settle against the headboard and pull Ava into my side.
She settles her head on my chest and an arm over my stomach. “You don’t have to tell me anything, Cannon.”
“I know. But Connie is a part of my life, and you’re bound to hear other conversations.”
I take a few moments and ease into the story by telling Ava about my history with Melissa, starting in our sophomore year of high school. I don’t downplay what a special relationship we had. I would never deny that Melissa was my first true love. I tell Ava all the good—pulling on so many great memories over the years, and I’m pleased to see that she doesn’t shrink away when I talk about my love for another woman.
“Everyone knows about my tragic love story,” I say with a dark but humorless laugh. “About how my high school sweetheart battled cancer and how I left my career in hockey to take care of her until the end.”
I shift my body slightly to look down at Ava so I have her eyes when I tell her the next part. “What no one knows, except my family, is that our marriage was pretty much dead at the time she was diagnosed. It had been faltering for a long time and we were separated.”
“Where did it go wrong?” Ava asks.
“I guess where any marriage goes wrong. Not spending enough time together, not communicating effectively. In our particular case, I was gone a lot playing hockey, and Melissa resented it. And then I resented her resenting it because she knew what she was getting into when we got married, and I had no choice in the time I spent away from her. The last few months before we separated, we were barely speaking. I mean, we played nice whenever her parents would visit or call, but we pretty much led separate lives.”
“By separate lives, you mean…?”
“Sort of like ships passing in the night. Melissa was an interior designer, and she started taking more work out of town. It seemed like whenever I would come back from a road trip, she would be leaving to go visit a client somewhere. Neither one of us seemed to mind anymore that we didn’t see each other.”