Jesse’s phone starts screaming from the kitchen, and I find myself following the ringtone until I‘m stood at the island looking down at the screen. I knew who it would be before I even got a glimpse of the display. Rightly or wrongly, I answer it, disregarding my conscience that is currently advising me I’m a hypocrite.
‘Coral?’ I say, evenly and clearly. There is silence, but she doesn’t hang up. ‘Coral, what do you want?’
‘Is Jesse there?’ Her voice is small, and I’m a touched surprised that she hasn’t hung up. I realise now that I was expecting her to, once she heard my voice. Maybe I just wanted her to be aware that I’m aware, I don’t know, but she’s certainly got some balls.
‘He’s in the shower. Can I help you?’ I sound polite, but with an edge of irritation.
‘No, I need to speak to him.’ She doesn’t sound polite. She sounds affronted.
‘Coral, you need to stop bothering him.’ I need to make myself clear here, seeming as Jesse has suddenly grown a conscience.
‘Ava, isn’t it?’ she asks.
I’m not sure I like her tone. ‘That’s right.’ I try to maintain my evenness, but I have no idea where this conversation is leading and it’s making me incredibly nervous.
‘Ava, he’ll make you need him, then abandon you. Walk away while you still can.’ She hangs up.
I stand with Jesse’s phone still suspended at my ear, my eyes darting around the kitchen, my mind swamped again. I can’t walk away. Not now, not ever. And he would never let me; I don’t want to. I try to convince my brain that she is just envious, all of these women are jealous and slighted because Jesse played them all off, used them and tossed them away when he was bored or finished with them. That’s the logical reason. I know how I felt when I was without him, so if that is how all of these women feel, then I completely get it. I also feel very sorry for them, but it’s not my fault they can’t stand the fact that he has changed his ways for me – not for any one of them…for me. He has stopped drinking for me. He has stopped his dabbling for me. It’s his history, a nasty history, but it’s his history, nevertheless. It’s all historical, and I can’t hold his past against him. I straighten my shoulders in my own little private display of determination. I will never walk away from him. He has made me need him, but I know he needs me too. I’m going nowhere.
Sliding his phone on the counter, I walk back into the living space and I’m instantly reminded of what had my brain in meltdown before the call from Coral. I stand with my arms hugging my body, looking at the mountain of shopping bags and boxes before me. I don’t know whether to be excited or furious. He disregards my opinions and wishes at every turn, with his neurotic, challenging ways, and now I fear I’m becoming neurotic and challenging as well. He brings out the worst in me, and I know damn well I bring out the worst in him. John said as much. Easygoing, laidback Jesse Ward? No such man exists. Well, he does, when I’m complying, I saw him last night, but its times like this I easily forget about that man.
I kneel on the floor and gingerly poke one of the bags, peeking inside cautiously, like something could jump out and attack me. Huh? That wasn’t in my like pile. I pull out a silk, navy Calvin Klein dress. That was in my maybe pile. I open a box and find a Chloe, structured, cream and black dress. That was in the no pile. It was way over my set price threshold.
Oh no. They’ve mixed it all up. I pull another bag towards me and find a pair of Diesel, baggy fitting jeans. Okay, they weren’t in any pile. I work my way through all of the bags and boxes, also finding lace underwear in every design and colour you could imagine.
God only knows how long later, I’m sat in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a mass of clothes, shoes, bags and accessories. Every single item I tried on is here, except for the gown – all of the likes, the no’s, the maybes and a whole lot more that I didn’t try. I know there must be a mistake because even the slate Chloe dress is here, and Jesse would never have willingly bought that for me. I do love it, though.
Oh God! I flop back onto the floor and gaze up at the high ceilings of the penthouse. This is just way too much; the gown, the necklace, the ring, and now all of this. I am completely overwhelmed and feeling a bit suffocated. I don’t want all of this stuff. I just want him, without the history, without the other women and without Mikael poking about.
‘Hey, baby.’ Jesse’s wet, handsome face appears, floating above me. ‘I’ve been waiting for you. What’s up?’ He pouts.
I scoff and signal in the general direction of the designer jumble sale surrounding me. Can he not see it all? He looks around, completely unfazed by the piles and piles of women’s wear flanking me.
‘It arrived then?’ he says coolly. I make a dramatic display of throwing my arms back in exasperation, and he exhales to match my drama before lying down next to me. ‘Look at me.’ he orders softly. I turn my face to his and get an injection of his fresh, minty breath. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘This is too much.’ I complain. ‘I just want you.’
He smiles, his eyes twinkling with pleasure. ‘I’m glad, but I’ve never had anyone to share my money with, Ava. Please humour me.’
‘People will think I’m marrying you for your money.’ I say it as it is. I’ve already encountered the accusation.
‘I couldn’t give a f**k what people think. It’s all about us.’ He twists onto his side and pulls at my hip so I’m mirroring him. ‘Now, shut up.’