Page 264 of This Woman Forever

I flinch. “I don’t know, Steve.”

“She’s been watching you for a long time.” He goes to his pad. “There were many pictures of you. And of Ava. She rented a room in a house in Lansdowne Crescent.”

“It wasn’t her house?” I ask, and Steve shakes his head. Fucking hell.

“It was rented under Casey Grand’s name. From what we can establish thus far, she contacted Rococo Union around the time you started dating Ava.”

Jesus Christ. All these years she was happy I was obliterated... but the minute I met Ava, she was in Lauren’s demented scope. And dating? Ava would call it stalking. I rub at my forehead, feeling nauseous. Then something comes to me. “John.”

“Took quite a wallop to the head. He’s fine. Angry with himself more than anything. He mentioned you thought you’d seen Lauren Pierce a few times.”

I nod and take a breath, starting to explain to Steve, going into every detail.

Making sure she’s locked up for a very long time.

51

“I’m not using a wheelchair,” I grunt. “End of.”

The porter turns right back around and wheels it out, and a collection of exasperated sighs fill the room. I give each of them a moment of my eyes—Ava, Sam, Kate, Drew, and John. “It’s not happening.” I need to walk. Have to. I won’t admit it aloud, but I’m nervous to go home. I’m still in so much fucking pain, can’t walk ten paces without being out of breath, and I’m worried I’ll pass out again. I could fall on Ava, knock her on my way down, because I know for certain she’ll try to catch me.

So I’m walking. If I make it to the car on my feet, I’ll feel more confident. If I don’t? Well, then I’ll be passed out, and I expect they’ll put me straight back in the hospital bed for a while longer.

I look down my front as I sit on the edge of the bed while Nurse arms Ava with endless dressings and pills. My T-shirt is hanging off me. I’ve never been so small. Or tired. Fuck me, I’m constantly exhausted.

“Ready?” John asks, knocking me from my daydream.

“Ready.” I wedge my fists into the mattress and ease myself up slowly, breathing steadily. It’s easy to hold my breath to try and stem the pain, but holding my breath results in a blackout. So yes, I must breathe.

“Okay?” Ava asks, joining my side, like she can hold me up. “Why don’t you just let me push you in the chair?”

“God damn it, Ava, you are not wheeling me out of this hospital,” I snap. Even that drains me. Fuck. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, reaching for her hand on my arm and patting. “Ignore me.”

She remains patient and silent, not leaving my side, as I make my way through the hospital, slowly but surely, taking regular rest stops. The others hang back, ready to step in and catch me. It’s a miracle, but I make it to John’s car.

And fall asleep on the way home.

Clive is painfully attentive when we get to Lusso, flanking my dragging body, declaring all kinds of disgust and outrage. If I had the strength and any cash on me, I’d slip him some notes to shut the fuck up.

The stairs are the first thing I note when I step inside the penthouse. Yeah, not happening. “The couch,” Ava declares, leaving John to hold me up as she hurries to the sofa, sorts the pillows, and gets a throw. “There.”

John tries to get me moving, but I gravitate toward the kitchen. “Just give me a sec,” I say, gently breaking away from him and walking slowly toward the entrance. The floor is spotless. Sparkling. Whenever I used to stand here, I’d see Ava on the launch night of Lusso in her red dress. I’d see her in her lace underwear sitting on the island. I’d see her pressed up against the wall, me buried deep inside her.

Now all I see is Lauren wielding a blade.

We can’t live here. I turn and find Ava behind me, her face pensive. She knows what I’m thinking. But it’s a conversation for another day. A day when I’ve got the energy to give. “Come,” she says, leading me to the couch and getting me comfortable, straining to lift my legs. “I’ll get you some water.”

I smile my thanks and watch her go to the kitchen, hating how much she’s having to do because I’m an invalid.

John pulls his black suit jacket out and lowers to the nearby armchair, looking to the kitchen. Making sure Ava’s out of earshot, I expect. “I’ve pondered whether to mention this,” he says, his deep voice quiet.

“What?”

“Cutler’s been in touch again. A week ago.”

I frown, thinking. “Cutler?” Am I supposed to know who that is?

John smiles, only mildly, but I still get a flash of his gold tooth. “He represents the leisure company who wants to buy The Manor. You were considering entertaining another meeting.”