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“Figures,” I grumble.
“I’m guessing it’s true though, right?”
Maybe it’s the hint of something in her voice that sounds like she’s desperate for a distraction, or maybe it’s what my father told me in his office, knowing that she lost her father so cruelly, and then her own mother left her behind and moved away.
Whatever it is, it has my fingers curling around the edge of the next wooden step down and tugging.
Ava leans forward with interest as I pull the top loose and slide it forward, revealing the small space beneath.
“This was my hiding place,” I explain, looking into the gap. “My father still doesn’t know about it. But mymother did. She used to leave me secret notes here. And gifts.”
I reach inside and lift out a toy airplane that’s covered in a layer of fine dust.
“That’s so sweet,” Ava breathes, as I turn it over.
“I guess that answers your question.” I drop the plane back inside and fix the step into place, swallowing the unexpected lump in my throat.
“It must be hard… missing her. I know what that’s like.”
“It is.” My eyes slide to hers. “I’m sorry that knowing the pain of losing a parent is the one thing we have in common.”
“Theonlything we have in common.” Her lips twitch in a ghost of smile. Ava’s gaze drops to my hand and the fading red nail marks on my skin. “I’m sorry I clawed you on the plane.”
I look into her pinched eyes. “Don’t be. It’s fine.”
“Maybe I can make it up to you? Untangle your skipping rope if it gets knotted or something.”
The sound that comes from the back of my throat almost sounds like a laugh.
“Sure. You can do that.” I pause for a moment. “Actually, I have a dinner with two investors tonight. They’re boring, leery bastards. But if you come with me, it’ll save me from a late night, entertaining them alone.”
Her brows shoot up her forehead.
“Forget it. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s not Callaghan. It’s not what you agreed to—”
“Okay. I mean, sure, if you want me to? I don’t mind.”
We stare at one another as something shifts in the air. Her teeth sink into her plump lower lip as she blinks at me.
“Jet?” she breathes, leaning a little closer.
I inhale through my nose, my senses assaulted by sweet caramel and fresh flowers.
“Ava?”
“Umm.” She looks at my mouth, then up into my eyes. If she comes any closer, I’ll be able to taste each exhale passing through her berry lips.
A loud thump in the hallway makes her jump back like she’s been branded.
“Stupid thing,” someone mutters.
Ava rushes down the stairs, picking up a grapefruit that’s rolled along the floor. Margaret appears, huffing, a grocery bag with a broken handle held between her hands.
“Thanks, Ava, love,” she says, taking the fruit and stuffing it back inside.
Margaret sees me and nods in greeting. “Your father said you don’t need dinner tonight?”
“No, thank you. I’m eating out.”
