Page 75 of Reckless Love

And I promised myself I’d honor the doctor’s orders about keeping Ava calm. Waiting days to see her, speak to her, find out if there’s a chance Landon is mine, has been torture. Now, on the cusp of getting answers, my palms are sweaty, skin clammy.

Part of me isn’t sure I can trust her the way I once did—the unwavering belief she’d pick me over anyone and everyone else died that night in my apartment. Knowing she’s being honest with me relies on that connection, that sense that she’ll tell me the truth, even when the truth is ugly.

As I look down at her, I think it’s worth giving our old connection a shot of adrenaline with this late-night confessional, see if we can get the heart of us pumping once more.

Which might be really foolish if it turns out she did lie to me about Landon.

“You were mad at me for breaking things off,” I prompt.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Ava says, and her voice is thick with tears again.

Before, she wasn’t a crier. She raged, swore, threw things—but tears? Never. Her true emotions are closer to the surface than ever, and that realization brings forth my instinctual desire to protect her at all costs that’s been bubbling below the surface whenever anyone or anything threatens her. I want to tell her I could never hate her, but if she kept Landon from me, lied to my face about him, I’m not sure I could forgive her either.

I draw the chair up to the edge of her bed, and I lace her hand with mine. “You give me all your truth, and then I’ll give you all mine.”

“I went out the night after you left, and I ran into Raul. My mother had been pressuring me to consider him as an option. She liked how he moved around Bellerive. Cut from the same cloth, you know?”

Never has Ava said something truer. Celia and Raul are very similar. They care primarily about themselves, and they treat most people they deal with like second-class citizens. Of course Celia would like him.

“And I was feeling reckless and…” She takes a deep breath. “Hurt. Angry. So many things.”

When she doesn’t continue, I add, “You fucked him.” Without that fact, it would make no sense for Landon to be Raul’s son. “Why is that so hard to say?” But I have to admit, it stings a little, even for me to voice that core truth. Maybe because, for the first time, there was no “us” afterward. There was no erasure of that moment for either of us.

“You and I, we had pretty clear rules about unprotected sex with other people, Ava, and if you broke those—”

“I didn’t. I never did.” Her tone is sharp, glimmers of herself. “You were the only one. Raul and I used a condom.”

“What? He didn’t know how to use a condom properly?” My tone is mocking, and I close my eyes, trying to keep my bitterness in check. I need the truth, and I need to be able to trust her. If I make her feel shitty, she’s more likely to hedge or hesitate.

“You’d have no reason to know anything about this, but Cocksure Condoms manufactured a bunch of faulty ones. There was a civil lawsuit about it and everything.”

“Did you know that you’d used a faulty one when you found out you were pregnant?” I ask.

“No.” She bites her lip. “Why would I even consider that? It was just that once I told my mother, she asked if you were the only one who could be Landon’s father.”

Having been up close and personal with Celia’s decision tree, I could probably draw the sequence on the window. If this, then… Over and over until she got the result she wanted. “She told you to tell Raul.”

“Only after I said I was keeping the baby. That I wasn’t getting rid of him.”

“She wouldn’t have loved the optics of you having a baby alone.”

“Single mother. Father a former police officer who left the island without telling me where he was going. Like maybe being part of the Tucker family wasn’t so desirable after all.” She presses the heels of her hands into her eyes and takes a deep, obviously painful breath. “You’re right, I might need a sedative after this.”

“We don’t have to do this now,” I say, and I lean forward to run my thumb along her cheek again. She’s still so fucking pretty. Even exhausted. Even bruised and bandaged. Even full of anger and self-loathing. Watching her age, noting all the changes as they happened, would be a privilege.

“The drugs have helped.” She gives me a watery smile. “The bite of remembrance isn’t so sharp.”

“She didn’t want you to keep Landon, but you said you were. So that’s when she asked whether it was possible there could be another father?”

“Yes. She said I should tell Raul, and I…” She breathes out a sigh. “I didn’t know what to do. It’s like all my fight left with you. That’s the only way to explain it. She told Raul I might be pregnant with his child. She arranged the DNA test. And when it came back that he was the father, I cried for weeks. Locked myself in my house. Refused to see anyone. Told my mom to have the test run again. By then, I was too far along. I’d been so sure.” She looks at me with watery eyes. “I really thought he was yours, and the idea of getting rid of any part of you—I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it, and then I was stuck. Somebody else’s baby, that I never would have had otherwise.”

I draw her hand to my lips and press a kiss there, lingering. That’s the closest she’s ever come to admitting her feelings might have run deep. Even if Landon isn’t mine, it’s a balm to my soul to know the reason he exists is because she believed he was my son. She didn’t have him because she wanted a baby with Raul. She wanted my baby.

“Mom organized the marriage contract that I signed. I just,” she makes a rolling motion with her hand, “went along for the ride.”

“Ava.” I bring her hand up and cover it with both of mine. “None of this sounds like you.”

“You know what’s funny? I don’t think I’ve felt like me since you left,” she says.