Page 36 of Make It Last

“We have,” she said with an eye roll before gesturing at the food. “Dinner was delicious.”

“They make good food,” I agreed. “How’s your pain, by the way?”

“It's fine. I just have to be careful. Now that I’m out of the hospital, the urge to put weight on my foot is strong.”

“I bet. Most of us don’t think about walking.”

“Exactly. I start physical therapy tomorrow. I’m excited.” She wiggled her shoulders.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re excited?”

She snorted a laugh. “Yeah. I just want to keep moving along in this recovery, so I’m back to normal soon.”

Ava looked down at her lap, biting her bottom lip. Fuck me. That tiny gesture about lit me on fire. She had no idea how sexy she was. None.

“What are you worried about?”

“Well,” she lifted a hand and let it fall, “you know. My life is totally disrupted. I need to get home. I can work from here, but...” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I think I’m having an existential crisis,” she said earnestly.

“What do you mean?”

“I love it here,” she admitted, waving toward the window, “but I’m just here because…” She pointed at her foot. “And I’m scared. I don’t want to go home.” She sighed again. “I don’t know what the hell to do. And then there’s my parents…”

“What about them?”

“They didn’t want me to file for divorce. They want me to keep my ‘good job,’ stay put, and keep everything stable. But I don’t want to be there. I’ve supported my family for years. I don’t resent it, exactly, but it’s just tiring.”

“What do your parents do?”

She hesitated. “Well, our whole life revolved around my sister growing up. She had a fall when she was little, had a head injury, and developed severe seizures.” Her voice softened. “My dad works, but my mom gave up everything to care for her. Now she’s in her sixties and doesn’t know what to do. She does some substitute teaching, but I’ve given them money for years. I’ll keep doing it.”

I nodded. “I get supporting your parents emotionally, financially too. I’d do it for my mom. But you’re allowed to do something for yourself. They’ll figure it out.”

“They might,” she said. “I’m an executive assistant. They’re letting me work remotely for now, but I partly think so because my boss is the one who had the affair with my ex.”

“That’s bullshit,” I said flatly.

She shrugged. “Not much to do about it now.”

“Do you have a time frame?”

“At least two months,” she muttered, glaring at her ankle boot.

“Do you want to go home?” I pressed, honestly curious.

She twisted her lips to the side. “Not really. I could pay extra for a medical flight, but I’m telling my parents I can’t afford it.” Her dry laugh made my chest ache. “I’m going to do my recovery here. Chris is the best damn physical therapist in the world.”

“He’s a good guy.”

Ava looked at the counter again before lifting her gaze to mine. “Okay. Can we really stop talking about the heavy stuff?”

“Absolutely. What should we talk about?”

“Town gossip,” she said brightly, her eyes twinkling. “Tell me everything.”

I burst out laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I love gossip. Don’t judge.”