I knew this, of course. Mrs. Stark had always been nice to me. She was a nice lady. I sometimes wondered why she was friends with my Mom but then again she was friends with everybody.
“I know that, Luke, but she doesn’t want to catch me up here with you going commando in your cargos and me in nothing but a Triumph tee and a pair of panties.”
“She’ll do f**kin’ cartwheels. She’s hated every woman I’ve ever dated.”
Whoa.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
That had to go so deep. I needed to bury it next to the molten core at the center of the earth.
I tried to pull away but it was too late, the elevator doors were opening. My head snapped toward the doors and I froze, still standing in Luke’s arms as Mrs. Stark walked out of the elevator.
This is interesting, Bad Ava said, sounding sleepy.
Good Ava yawned. What’d I miss?
Mrs. Stark turned, she had a small smile on her face but it went wonky when she caught sight of us standing across the room. Luke didn’t drop his arms and as I was frozen, my hands resting on either side of his chest under his shoulders, I didn’t move.
Luke looked like his Dad. His Mom was petite, kinda round, she had blonde hair but now it was mostly gray (and she left it at that). She was a motherly-type mom who dressed like a mom, talked like a mom and acted like a mom. Therefore she stood there wearing a pair of slacks with a neatly pressed crease, a flouncy blouse, a set of classy but mom-like pumps with short heels, appropriately-sized earrings and her hair had obviously been recently set.
“Oh my,” she said softly, her eyes moving to her son. “Luke you should have –”
“Hey Mrs. Stark,” I broke in nervously, taking my hands off Luke’s chest and turning. One of his arms dropped away from me, the other one kept me close to his side by slicing across my waist, his fingers putting pressure at my hip.
Mrs. Stark blinked.
I hadn’t seen her since her husband’s funeral. Considering her son’s reaction to the new me, I felt it was a good idea to cut to the chase.
“It’s Ava,” I said.
“Ava,” she repeated and kept looking at me. After a beat, the light dawned and she whispered, “Ava.” Then her eyes moved to Luke then back to me then to Luke. Then, I kid you not, she looked like she was going to burst into tears.
“I just need to…” Her head swung around, for some reason frantically. She spied the bathroom and started toward it. “Freshen up.” She disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.
I whirled on Luke and, completely at a loss for words, leaned forward, hands straight down to my sides in fists and glared.
He took one look at me and burst into laughter. I lifted up both hands and gave him a big, old shove. He didn’t move back with the shove (of course). Instead, his arms closed around me and he pulled me close, his face went to my neck and he was still laughing so I could feel it against my skin.
“Babe,” he said against my neck when he finished laughing.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
His head came up and he was full on smiling which made my knees do a wobble, even though I was angry.
“No you don’t,” he whispered back.
I pulled out of his arms, ran to my suitcases and at least had a pair of jeans on by the time Mrs. Stark got out of the bathroom.
“Well, sorry about that. Nature calls,” she said, blushing even though the toilet didn’t flush and her eyes were looking funny.
I walked up to her, lips pressed together. “Mrs. Stark, I’m sorry if I upset you –”
Her head did a little jerk to the side. “Upset me? Oh, Ava, dear, you didn’t upset me.”
Then she walked right up to me and gave me a tight hug. Automatically, I wrapped my arms around her, confused. I thought she’d escaped to the bathroom to burst into tears of devastation that her handsome, tough guy, macho man, shit-hot, rich enough to retire at twenty-eight (now thirty-three) son had the likes of Ava Barlow in his loft.
Apparently this was not the case.