“Sure,” Alex said, unfazed by the girls’ attention. He was probably used to it. While he followed me around London, women followed him around until we all looked like we were playing a giant game of Follow the Leader. “We can talk over dinner.” His mouth twitched when I glared at him.
“That’s not happening.” I looked around and spotted a tiny alcove further down the street. Not quite an alleyway, but private enough. I didn’t want the other fellows seeing him and asking more questions. Most had already noticed Alex waiting for me every day and incorrectly assumed he was my boyfriend. “Over there.”
I marched toward the alcove and waited until we were ensconced in the tiny space before I spoke again. “You have to stop.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Stop...?”
“The gifts. The waiting. The games. They won’t work.” Lies. They were close to working, which was why I was freaking out. If he kept this up, I didn’t know how long I could hold out.
His smile faded. “I told you, I’m not playing games. If you want me to stop with the gifts, I’ll stop. But I’ll never stop waiting.”
“Why?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “You can have any woman you want. Why are you still here?”
“Because none of them are you. I…” Alex’s throat flexed with a hard swallow. The nervous expression returned. “I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but—”
“No.” My heart broke into a gallop. I knew what he would say next, and I was nowhere near ready to hear it. “Don’t.”
“Ava, I love you.” His eyes flickered with emotion, and my chest squeezed until I thought it would burst. “When you told me you loved me, I didn’t say it back because I didn’t feel like I deserved your love. You didn’t know the truth about my plan yet, and I didn’t think…fuck.” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “This wasn’t how I’d planned to say it,” he muttered. “But it’s true. And maybe I still don’t deserve you, but I’m willing to work at it until I do.”
“You don’t love me.” I shook my head, my eyes and nose burning with unshed tears. I’d cried so much lately I annoyed myself, but I couldn’t stop. “You don’t even know what love is. You lied and used me and Josh for eight years. Eight years. That’s not love. That’s manipulation. Insanity.”
“It started out that way, but Josh really did become my best friend, and I really did fall for you.” Alex let out a short laugh. “You think I wanted those things to happen? I didn’t. They completely screwed my plans over. I held off on bringing down Michael for years because of you and Josh.”
“How generous of you,” I said sarcastically.
His jaw tightened. “I never claimed to be Prince Charming, and my love isn’t a fairy tale type of love. I’m a fucked-up person with fucked-up morals. I won’t write you poems or serenade you beneath the moonlight. But you are the only woman I have eyes for. Your enemies are my enemies, your friends are my friends, and if you wanted, I would burn down the world for you.”
My heart split in half. I wanted so badly to believe him, but… “Even if that’s true, it’s not about love. It’s about trust, and I don’t trust you anymore. You proved you’re the master of the long game. What if this is just another one of those? What if one day, ten years from now, I wake up and you break my heart again? I won’t survive it a second time.”
If the source of the heartbreak were anyone else, maybe. But not Alex. He was embedded not only in my heart but in my soul, and if I lost him again for whatever reason, it was game over.
“Ava.” Alex’s voice cracked. Red rimmed his eyes, and I could’ve sworn he was on the verge of crying. But this was Alex. He didn’t cry. He wasn’t capable of it. “Sweetheart, please. Tell me what I have to do. I’ll do anything.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything you can do,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Then I’ll just have to try everything until we find something,” he said, his face granite, his tone resolute.
Alex wouldn’t give up until he got what he wanted. It wasn’t in his nature. But if I gave in to him the way my heart wanted but my mind screamed at me not to, how could I live with myself? A relationship without trust was built on a foundation of sand, and after a lifetime of drifting, I needed solid ground.
“Go home to D.C., Alex,” I said, exhausted—mentally, physically, and emotionally. “You have a business to run.” Even as I said the words, my stomach lurched at the thought of an ocean separating us again.
I was a mess. I had no clue what I wanted, my thoughts raced too fast for me to latch onto any of them, and—
“I resigned as CEO, effective one month ago.”
That shocked me out of my reverie. “What ?” He was the most ambitious person I knew, and he’d been CEO for less than a year.
Why hadn’t I heard about this? Then again, I didn’t follow financial news, and I’d avoided any news about Alex himself.
Alex shrugged. “I couldn’t stay on as CEO while spending all my time in London with you, so I resigned,” he said matter-of-factly, like he hadn’t given up his life’s work on a whim. Except Alex did nothing on a whim. He thought through every move, and his latest one made no sense. Not unless…
I squashed the brief flare of hope before it could blossom into something greater.
“But what about money and expenses?” I realized how dumb that question was the second I asked it.
Alex’s mouth tilted up. “I have enough in stocks, investments, and savings to last me the rest of my life. I worked because I wanted to. But now, I want to do something else.”
I swallowed, my pulse thundering. “What’s that?”
“Win you back. No matter how long it takes.”
43
Ava
The fellowship ended with a grand exhibition attended by the movers and shakers of London’s art world. The exhibition took place in Shoreditch, and every fellow had their own section in the pop-up gallery.
It was exhilarating, nerve-wracking, and utterly surreal.
I stared at my little slice of heaven and the people passing through it, dressed to the nines and examining each piece with what I hoped were admiring eyes.
I’d grown by leaps and bounds as a photographer over the past year, and while I still had a lot to learn, I was damn proud of my work. I specialized in travel portraits like Diane Lange, but I put my personal spin on it. As much as I admired her, I didn’t want to be her; I wanted to be my own person, with my own vision and creative ideas.
I took most of my shots in London, but the good thing about Europe was how easy it was to travel to other countries. On the weekends, I took the Eurostar to Paris or day trips to the Cotswolds. I even booked short flights to neighboring countries like Ireland and the Netherlands and didn’t freak out on the plane.
My favorite piece was a portrait of two old men playing chess at a park in Paris. One had his head tossed back in laughter with a cigarette in hand while the other examined the board with a furrowed brow. The emotions from both jumped out from the photo, and I’d never been prouder.
“How do you feel?” Diane came up beside me. Her pale blonde hair brushed her shoulders, and her black-rimmed glasses matched her black jacket and pants combo. She’d been the best mentor I could ask for during the fellowship, and now I considered her both a friend and role model.
Me, friends with Diane Lange.
Surreal.
“I feel…everything,” I admitted. “Warning though, I might also throw up.”
She threw her head back and laughed, not unlike the man in the photo. That was one of my favorite things about Diane. Whether it was joy, sadness, or anger, she expressed her emotions fully and without reserve. She poured herself into the world with the confidence of someone who refused to hold herself back to make others comfortable, and she shone all the brighter for it.