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I pull out my phone and text Liv as I sit at the kitchen counter with a glass of mango juice, asking her to call me as soon as she can.
I scroll past the five missed calls from Jet and check my voicemail.
“Goddamn, Ava. Pick up the phone,”his deep voice hisses, sounding increasingly pissed off with each word before it cuts out.
I delete it, before dialing another number.
“Gramps?” My voice cracks as he answers.
“Ava. How are you, love? Let me just turn down the radio.”
His soothing, familiar voice makes my throat dry.
“I was just calling to see how you are. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But you only called yesterday.” He chuckles.
“I know.” I smile, comfort wrapping around me like a warm duvet as I picture him in his house, sitting in his favorite chair as we talk.
“Not that this old man’s complaining, but shouldn’t you be out having fun with your mother?”
I wince. “She’s… not feeling well, actually.”
“Oh no. Nothing serious, I hope?”
My gaze wanders to the empty wine bottle.
“Nothing a nap won’t fix.”
“What about Jet?” Gramps asks. “Are you still working on this thing with him?”
My heart sinks.Jet’s beyond help.
“No. He’s doing fine without me. I’ve been doing some sightseeing, instead. I walked around Beverly Hills the other day. I saw a dog wearing shoes.”
Gramps laughs and we fall into an easy conversation for the next twenty minutes. My phone beeps with a bunch of incoming calls. I lose count at number six.
After I say goodbye to Gramps, there’s a knock at the door.
“Miss Roberts?” The courier guy reads my name from the tablet in his hand.
“Yes.”
He hands me a large pink box with a champagne ribbon.
“Have a nice day.”
I stare at the box. It looks expensive. I toy with the silk ribbon, running the fabric between my fingers as I carry it inside and place it onto the living room floor, dropping to my knees in front of it. A beautiful scent I can’t place wafts from it as I open it. It even smells expensive.
Then it hits me.
It’s from the same store that Mum sent my sixteenth birthday gift from. My heart pangs with nostalgia. Iwish she were awake. Maybe I should wait so she can watch me open it.
I sit for approximately three seconds before impatience and excitement get the better of me and I throw the lid off, my fingers tingling.
“Oh my god!” I squeal as I take out the bodysuit. It’s light as a feather, made from a sheer, fine mesh, with strands of pearls draped halfway down around the hips.
It’s the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen.
