Page 39 of Against The Tide

“Why would you tell her that?”

“Because it’s the truth, and we both know it.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a meddling old bat?”

Jo laughs, sticking her tongue out at me before she retorts, “Thanks, asshat.”

Iris falls asleep the minute she sits on the couch at my place, and Jo isn’t far behind her. It’s late afternoon, and the sun is just starting to set. Avery has barely said a word to me since our conversation earlier, and the sting of her silence is running through me.

Looking around the place, she appears tantamount curious and surprised. I notice the way she runs her fingers over every surface, as though she’s physically trying to get a feel of her surroundings. Everywhere her fingers touch, I have to trace mine.

“Avery,” I murmur, stepping around her so that we’re standing face-to-face at the long kitchen. “I don’t want things to be awkward between us.”

“They’re not.” Maybe I would’ve believed her if her tone wasn’t so high-pitched and awkward.

We’re silent for a second as I try to think of a way of addressing the elephant in the room.

“You have a really nice home. Not really what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?” I flatten my hand down beside hers on the counter and observe the way her fingertips curl.

“A lot more white.”

“I’ve spent too much of my life in sterile environments to live in one.”

“Makes sense.” She blusters a half-smile, backing away when I step closer, gaze flitting over the slate-tiled wall over my shoulder and then to the floor. “It’s beautiful.”

Taking her hand before she has the opportunity to pull away anymore, I lead her through to the small yard. It’s the size of a postage stamp, but it has a decent outdoor kitchen that boasts one of the few sea views left in Sunset Cove.

The breeze wraps around us as I guide her to my favorite seat in the house—a half wall that hasn’t been touched since Callie had Rowan landscape the yard when she first moved in here.

“This is pretty.” She looks around the kept flower beds as I sit. They’re mostly verdure, but there are random pops of color here and there. Mainly lavender and lilac sea daisies that Scarlett insisted on planting last year.

“Callie’s responsible for it. The garden was as is when I bought the house off of Rowan with the exception of the flowers. Scarlett went through a phase of obsessing over bees.”

“Was that after your divorce?”

“No, I lived closer to Silverlark Harbor town when I first moved here.”

The memory of the old place makes my skin crawl, and as if she can sense it, Avery sits beside me. Not near enough to touch, but close enough that I can smell her honeyed scent mixed in with the soft lavender.

“Rowan and Harvey knew each other, and it was close enough to the clinic and central to downtown, but some shady shit went down. Rowan could’ve died… Callie and I had no real clue what the fuck was going on even though Harvey and I lived in the same place. I remember him acting odd, but I was too self-absorbed to think more of it.”

I should’ve been a better brother and been more aware of everything that was happening, but I was too busy paving the same road with my ex-girlfriend that I had with my ex-wife. They could’ve been two peas in a pod—Sarah and Willa.

“You can’t blame yourself for what other people do,” Avery whispers, nudging my arm with her shoulder. “I keep telling myself that. Maybe it’ll stick sometime soon.”

Maybe it’ll stick. There’s a phrase I’m familiar with. Maybe this time it’ll stick. Maybe next time. Why isn’t it sticking?

“Sarah desperately wanted kids.” The words bluster from me without warning. “I think she wanted a Band-Aid for our marriage.”

Avery sits straighter, pulling at the hem of her white cotton dress before clutching her hands between her thighs.

“We already had issues. We weren’t exactly a match made in heaven, but she was devoted to making it last between us, no matter what and by any means necessary. I didn’t realize how much she wanted to stay together until she went from waiting for the right time to wanting a child more than a waitlist designer purse.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Avery asks with an audible swallow. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I know.” But strangely, I want to. The last few hours have possibly been the worst I’ve had in so long. That constant fret of what’s going through her mind and what she thinks of me. Of the possibility that she might not trust me anymore.