Page 210 of This Woman Forever
Exactly.
So I will continue to be cautious where Van Der Haus is concerned.
Ava’s quickly uncomfortable as I wait for an answer.
“You’ve not told him, have you?” I ask. How many times has she promised to sever all work ties with the Danish prick and not followed through? What, is she scared? Worried she’ll upset her boss? Worried he’ll fire her? “Ava?”
“He wasn’t in the office,” she rushes to explain, her hand fiddling madly. “But he will be tomorrow, so I’ll speak to him then.”
Nope. She’s had endless opportunities. I’ve held back. Time is up. “Too late, lady. You’ve had your chance. Again and again and again.”
“That’s not fair. I told Mikael I won’t be working with him anymore, so you can’t say I’m not trying to resolve this.”
Wait. “You did what?” She’s spoken to Van Der Haus?
“I don’t think he drugged me, Jesse,” she says, hurrying over her words. “He said he wanted me, so why would he hurt me?”
I gape at her, stunned. He told her, actually told her, that he wants her? “What the fucking hell are you doing talking to him?” My fists ball, my body leaning forward of its own volition.
“He knows that you’ve...” Her lips twitch, she bites the bottom corner, then she has her hand at her mouth, getting more nervous by the second. She knows. She knows talking to Van Der Haus was a mistake. “Entertained other women while we’ve been together.”
The fuckhead. There’s only one way Van Der Haus would know I’d betrayed Ava, and I’m hoping Ava doesn’t click. “We agreed never to speak of that again.” Could this day get any worse?
A steely façade falls across her face, telling me things are about to get spiky. “It’s hard when people keep reminding me of it,” she retorts. “How does he know?”
Fuck. My mind circles, frantically searching for a viable answer as she studies me, waiting.
Slowly figuring out for herself that Van Der Haus’s ex-wife was one of the women during those horrendous four days.
“She was one of them, wasn’t she?” she eventually says, so calm.
God damn it. God damn Freja. God damn me. I take a moment, scrambling for air and reason as she stands up. She’s leaving? Holding my breath, I get ready to seize her, stop her, go after her. But she comes closer, leaning over the desk toward me. “You said months,” she grates. “You said you hadn’t been with her for months, that you didn’t understand why she was suddenly sniffing around. You’ve slept with her more than once too.” She states it all as the facts she knows them to be, and I wilt, beaten.
“I didn’t want to upset you,” I growl, mentally doubling the pain I’m going to put Van Der Haus through.
She huffs mildly, a sneer on her lip. “Tell me,” she says, her words steady and strong. “Did you call them up and have them make a queue outside your door?”
“No, they hear I’m on the drink and they’re like flies around shit.” Sarah was the one who let them in.
“I hate you,” she seethes, and I flinch, injured.
“No, you don’t,” I say softly.
“Yes,” she counters. “I do.”
And I fucking hate me too, baby. “Don’t make my heart crack, Ava. Does it matter who it was?”
“No, what matters is that you lied to me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“And it’s hilarious that every single time you do that, you end up hurting me.”
I wouldn’t say hilarious. More tragic. “I know.”
“So, have you learnt?” she asks, head tilted.
Learnt to be honest about everything? Not lie? There’s only one answer. Even if it’s the wrong answer. “Every fucking day.” I reach for her jaw, squeezing so her lips pucker. “I’m sorry.” For that, and for what’s to come. Always fucking sorry.