He had repeatedly said it was his job to make the money, and it was my purpose to splurge and do as I pleased. This wouldn’t have sufficed for the old Ava, but the broken spirited one had welcomed this change, happily obliging because I was living in the haze of my despair.
Through the years of being married to him, I had severely lost my sense of arguing, even though I knew I was not in the wrong. It wasn’t his fault; it was mine because I had let it happen. The grief I had held onto from losing Reiss had immobilized the greater part of me; thus making Ashton deal with most of my complicated affairs to the menial things like credit card bills or whatever else that required me to go out of my way. I had fully neglected in doing quite a few basic things. It was as if I had given up any sense of will and power and merely handed it to him to decide whatever he wanted to do. I supposed this was why he sounded so shocked and offended at the thought of divorce. No one could truly blame him. After all, in the eyes of the world, we were happy. We were… most of the time, before the whole baby dilemma had come into the picture.
The happiness we shared wasn’t the breathless, crazy lovers who couldn’t get enough of each other kind. The pleasure we both participated in was when we indulged in similar interests, such as art and travelling or endlessly discussing how cocoa cultivated in different soils and climate influences the quality of a refined chocolate. Our marriage was based on profound respect and mutual interests—a far cry from the nonsensical, sex-fueled relationship I had once had with Reiss.
Maybe that was why, at the time, I had been adamant that it wouldn’t work with Reiss, because it wasn’t what I was used to seeing from the adults around me growing up. Passion mostly wasn’t part of what made a good marriage work—or so I was told by my Aunt Lottie, one who had endured her husband’s infidelity because, first and foremost, he was a damn good husband who had never neglected his wife and children. She had said that, at the end of the day, passion ebbed, but having a good husband was a hard find.
Her words, even though I had only been about twelve then, had never been forgotten. That was why I had always liked the prospect of marrying Ashton, because he was a sensible man. A man who had always loved and cared for me. Most of all, he was driven to succeed, never complaining about how much responsibility he was taking on when marrying me.
Reflecting on the basis of my marriage and how things could’ve been made me really see what had happened to us. Ashton deserved someone who could fully be his. Not someone like me, whose tormented past had never fully recovered after Reiss had walked away from me. Top that with the news of the accident, and I had been a heaping mess of inconsolable misery.
Ashton’s presence remained in my life, unwavering from his promise that he and I would be joined as a husband and wife when I turned eighteen. It wasn’t a grand master plan, yet it had been already spoken of between our families upon our persistence that it was what we had wanted when we were around fourteen years old. Ashton, even if he loved me to the ends of the earth, as much as I hated to admit it, wouldn’t be enough to make me happy. Though, for the past decade, I had deceived myself into believing it was possible.
“Ashton …” I knew well enough there was no subtle way of handling the talk of divorce when it sprung out of nowhere, shocking your husband as if I had shot him. Seeing how I had practically ruined both of our lives, there was still hope for us to find our own fated paths. This—he and I—had truly come and gone. “You have to admit that these past couple of years haven’t been filled with happiness or laughter. We don’t even communicate as much as we used to. There’s this massive gap between us. It has continually divided us until we no longer spoke of anything with relevance.” Images of my old life with him in New York played through my mind, sealing my belief that this route was for the best.
“Fuck, Ava, you can’t just bloody well drop this bombshell over the phone! You’re simply being illogical about everything.” He released a long breath, as if he was stressed out about this conundrum. “I’m flying out to London; expect me very soon. You and I need to go over this, and I trust that you will not leave anything out, Ava.”
After quick goodbyes, I sat back on the couch, gripping the lapels of my robe as I thought of a good structure of retelling my story without sounding too eager or desperate to be with another man that wasn’t my husband. Ashton, like most males, despised it when “their woman” was attracted to someone else, especially someone they felt was inferior to them.
Even though I had been open to him about what had occurred with Reiss back then, he definitely hadn’t liked it much when I would randomly referenced him out of the blue. At times, though these instances were few and far between, he would give me that cutting look that made me shut my mouth. He had admitted at one point that he was jealous of my relentless dedication in keeping my ex-lover’s memory alive.
Deflated, I somehow found myself at the mini bar, taking out a chilled water bottle and hoping the crisp taste on my tongue would help jolt me back from this unsettling feeling that had uncurled in my stomach the second Reiss/Craig had walked out the door.
What happens tomorrow, what might and might not it bring? I implored whoever was listening up there that the hurdles awaiting me were something I could endure and survive.
I had found what I had mourned for a decade, believing he had been long gone, and he had fabricated a web of lies to cover his tracks and identity.
No matter, I wasn’t done with either of them, Reiss or Craig. I had scores to settle, and I was going to see them through, one way or the other.
Chapter 15
Ava
Approximately eight hours later, my husband arrived without knocking on the door to my suite. He apparently had taken it upon himself to demand the concierge issue him an extra key. I wasn’t surprised at his actions as he barged into the room without carrying anything, eyes scanning the living room before he finally found me in bed, wide awake as I waited for his arrival.
At first, he gave me a long, lingering look, a look I accompanied with the word “powerless.”
Nodding as I acknowledge his presence, we found ourselves battling with our eyes, unsure how to proceed from here.
It was Ashton who broke our contact, glancing away as if he needed to breathe because he felt stifled with his business suit on or with his life in utter disarray. He then grunted out something inaudible to my ears before he released a soft, humming growl.
“I need—let me shower first.” He directed me a look that told me it was not a request. “Order some room service and add a pot of coffee while you’re at it. I think we can both agree that you and I will be having a long discussion about how to go forth with this new fanciful idea of yours.”