Page 137 of This Woman Forever
“Yes, you,” I clarify for the sake of it.
“I like Kate, but?—”
“But?” Sam asks, offended. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing’s wrong with her.” Drew chuckles. “She’s just not my type.”
Both Sam and I turn our full bodies into Drew and tilt our heads.
“I told you.” He laughs. “Gagged and heartless.” He looks past us to Natasha and the rest of the table. “I need some food and a fuck. And what the fuck’s wrong with your wife?” Drew points to the corner where Ava dragged Kate. “She looks like she’s been released from the Funny Farm.”
He’s right. Ava’s slumped back in her chair, holding her belly, howling at the ceiling. Kate’s grinning at her. Intrigued, I go over, but not before I capture a picture of my wife belly laughing. “Something funny?” I ask.
“No, nothing.” Ava snorts, wipes her nose, snorts again, her body jigging up and down on random short bursts of laughter.
“Here’s your dinner.”
“Oh, I’m starving.” She’s virtually salivating as Pete places her steak down. It’s a familiar look, except... well, I’m usually the steak. “Medium?” she asks before gobbling down a potato.
I look at Pete out the corner of my eye, eyebrows high. “Just to your liking, Ava,” he says with the stupidest, toothy smile. I take my plate from his other hand. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“No, thanks, Pete.”
“I’ll leave you to eat,” Kate’s says, standing.
Ava points at Kate with her knife, the blade catching one of the spotlights above and blinding me.
I quickly lean back.
Feel something sink into my gut.
Pain.
I look down at the wooden handle hanging out of my stomach. What the fuck has she done?
“Do you want me dead, Lauren?” I ask, grabbing on to air urgently. But breathing hurts, the rise and fall of my chest making the pain flare. Blood pisses all over the couch. “Because you’re too late.”
The fuck?
My hand darts out, seizing Ava’s wrist, pushing the knife down to the table. “Don’t wave your knife around, Ava.”
“Sorry,” she says, almost in confusion. Like I’m overreacting.
“I’m sorry,” Lauren blurts, her hands in her hair, the panic in her deranged eyes real. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to die.”
“Then why the fuck did you stab me?”
“I need you to love me,” she screams. “Why can’t you love me?”
I shake my head clear and take a second, looking around me. Where I am. Who I’m with. My stomach. It twinges. I wince, resting a hand on my scar over my shirt, frustrated that Lauren keeps slipping into my present and knocking me off-kilter. Fuck off.
“Good?” I ask Ava, picking at my own plate, suddenly not so hungry.
You have to eat, bro. Something other than peanut butter.
My appetite has vanished, and I’m thankful when the boys join us, the conversation nice and easy, although Ava’s too busy smashing her way through the steak to partake. And what’s with Kate’s permanent grin? I shake my head, bewildered, returning to my salad, picking at a few leaves. But then Ava starts coughing, her face turning bright red, her eyes watery. She’s choking?
I jump up, hitting her back, probably harder than I should. “Fucking hell, woman.” I check her face. Still red. And then she’s gasps, deflating, and I deflate with her. “Slow down,” I say, my heart going ten to the dozen. “It’s not going to walk off your plate.” I made sure of that.