Frisk Me (26 page)

Her hand found his arm. “Luc, you’re the one that’s been telling me all along that you weren’t a saint. I’m not saying that I didn’t act selfishly. I did, and I’ll spend the rest of my life hating myself for it, but we set out to show the full picture of being a cop, and we did.”

“I can’t wait to get my gold star in the mail,” he muttered, shaking off her hand.

Her fingers came right back, wrapping firmly around his wrist and pulling him around. He let her.

“You’re a good cop, Luc. You didn’t do anything wrong. You know it, I know it, and the people that matter know it.”

She released him long enough to go to her purse, which she’d left by the door, and came back with a small recorder. She handed it to him.

“What’s this?”

“It’s the audio of the video Mihail helped me record before I came here.”

He looked at her. “Sum it up for me.”

Ava licked her lips. “It’ll be the follow-up to the interview, in case CBC…twists things. In it, I explain everything I just told you. That neither Beverly Jensen, nor Shayna Johnson’s parents, nor any law enforcement officers find fault with anything that you do.”

He rolled his eyes, tossing the recorder aside, but she pressed on, her voice louder, stronger.

“I’ve already called contacts at competing networks that will air it, Luc. It’ll set the record straight. It’ll show the viewers what took me way too long to understand. That you’re America’s Hero not because of your acts, but because of your
heart
. That you’d be less of a hero if you didn’t beat yourself up every day for the death of a friend and a little girl. I tell them that—”

He closed his eyes. “Get out, Ava.”

“But—”

“Out!”

“Don’t you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” she asked. “I’m trying to tell you I—”

“It doesn’t matter!” he yelled with a wild wave of his arm. “What did you think was going to happen, that you’d apologize and in a few months we’ll be curled up on the couch, watching your stupid TV series while planning our wedding? Fat fucking chance.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and he fisted his hand so he didn’t reach for her.

“There’s no future for us, Ava. I showed up today for you, yes. I care about you and wanted you to get what you’d sought so desperately to achieve. But that’s as far as we go.”

“But I said I was wrong—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t. We’re both getting what we want. You can still go be a superstar journalist. Go get your damned Pulitzer Prize, or whatever.”

“And you? What will
you
get?”

Luc moved toward his front door, opening it as he picked up her purse and held it out to her.

“Solitude.”

Ava gracefully took her purse out of his hand, chin held high as she accepted her banishment. “You’re being an ass, you know that, right?”

Luc shrugged.
Don’t care.

Her eyes continued to hold his. “I love you. You know that too, right?”

Her soft-spoken words did something dangerous in the vicinity of his heart, and once again, he almost reached for her. Almost.

“I can’t, Sims. I can’t.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded once.

Then she walked away.

I
look horrible in coral,” Ava said, staring at her reflection.

Beth came up beside her, radiant in her wedding dress. She wrapped an arm around Ava’s waist. “You do, kind of.”

Ava gave her friend an exasperated look. “But you picked it out.”

Beth shrugged and took a sip of her champagne. “You know how some of those brides claim they don’t care about their gorgeous maid of honor upstaging them on their wedding day? Yeah, I’m so not one of them. Just be thankful I let your size two, shiny-haired ass stand next to me at all.”

Ava sighed and held out her glass for a refill. “It’s the least you can do.”

Beth waggled a finger. “Pour it yourself. Spilling champagne on my wedding gown at my wedding is acceptable. Charming, even. Spilling it on my dress a week before the ceremony? Trashy.”

“How does everything feel?” the tailor asked, coming over to where she’d been arguing with Beth’s cousin over how low the neckline of the dress could go without risking a wardrobe malfunction.

“It feels like I won’t be able to eat for a week,” Beth said, resting her hand lightly against the bodice of the gown.

The severe-faced tailor nodded. “Excellent.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Wonderful.”

“And you?” the tailor asked Ava.

“I’m good,” she said with a smile.

It might have been the biggest lie she’d ever told in her life. Ava was so far from good it wasn’t even funny. She hadn’t been good in…twelve days.

Beth’s face lost some of its glow as she took in Ava’s forced smile. “He still hasn’t called, huh?”

Ava shook her head and she refilled her champagne flute. “No call. No text. No courier pigeon. No Twitter, no Facebook.”

Beth made an angry noise. “It’s his loss.”

“Is it?” Ava murmured. “He’s right not to trust me.”

“Bullshit. You’re unemployed because of him.”

“No,” Ava snapped, using a sharper tone than she ever had with Beth. “That’s not what this is.”

Beth didn’t back down; her hands went to her hips, emphasizing the hourglass outline of her mermaid-style dress. “So you didn’t turn down your dream job as a show of faith for your non-boyfriend.”

“I turned it down because it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Beth’s mouth dropped open.

Ava understood the sentiment. Half the time her mouth still dropped open when she had the thought. But it was true. She’d been chasing the dream for so long that she’d lost sight of why she wanted the dream. And now that it was in sight…

“I don’t want to be a talking head, B,” she said.

“Well okay…I can’t say I’m going to argue. But why the change? It’d better not be because of a guy. We are so not those girls.”

“It’s not because of Luc,” Ava said softly, watching the bubbles sneak up the side of her champagne flute. “He was the catalyst, perhaps, but not the reason.”

“Not now,” Beth snapped at one of her other bridesmaids before pulling Ava farther toward the corner of the room. “Candice! I said not now!”

“You’re such a delicate bride,” Ava murmured.

“I’m a hungry bride,” Beth grumbled. “I had carrot juice for breakfast. I didn’t even know that was a thing. But don’t try to distract me. What changed?”

Ava shrugged. “The anchorwoman job just sounds…awful. The early morning, the constant need to look perfect. The high heels, all the sitting.”

“Okay, I’m with you there,” Beth agreed. “I’ve always thought it sounded like a wretched gig. I mean thousands, no
millions
, of people actually get to watch individual wrinkles develop in high definition. But that’s not what I’m asking. Last month you were all about it. This month, you’re not?”

Ava took a sip of her drink. Wasn’t that just the question of the day?

Year.

Decade.

“I don’t know,” Ava said finally. “I think I realized that I wanted the prestige of it all.”

Beth nodded. “I get it. And you wanted to show your Grade-A asshole of a father that you could do it without all of his string-pulling and mighty influence.”

Ava choked out a little laugh. “Shouldn’t I be lying on a couch for this sort of analysis, doc?”

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it? I’ve always wondered if your career ambitions weren’t born out of stubbornness more than actual interest.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Ava muttered. “You could have saved me a couple years.”

“Eh. It’s a sunk cost,” Beth said with a wave. “Move on.”

“From therapist to economist just like that,” Ava said with a snap of her fingers. “What’s next?”

Beth folded her arms. “Next? Best friend. What caused the epiphany, Ava?”

Ava forced herself to meet her friend’s eyes. “
He
did. And no,” she said, holding up a hand when Beth’s freckled face started to go irate. “I didn’t give up my career for a man, so don’t go all woman-hear-me-roar on my ass. I’m trying to tell you that for the first time in a long time, something mattered to me more than proving my dad wrong, more than sitting behind that desk.”

“And that thing is…Luc Moretti.”

“Yeah,” Ava replied quietly. “I want Luc more than I wanted the job. Which in turn got me thinking about why I wanted the job in the first place, and I realized…I didn’t.”

Beth’s shoulders slumped. “Love. It’s a bitch, huh?”

“Totally.”

“Do you need money?”

“No,” Ava said, grabbing her friend’s hands. “No, I actually got another job. Actually, it was Luc’s sister who provided the introduction. Starting in two weeks I’ll be employed by the
Times
.”

“As in the
New York Times
?” Beth asked, face confused.

“Yup.”

“Newspaper? Print journalism? Isn’t that…a change?”

Ava shrugged. “Yep. But it’ll allow me to do what I’ve always done best. Tell stories. And if I want to tell them while wearing no bra and yoga pants, they won’t care.”

“Can you even write?”

“Ye have little faith,
friend
. Yes, I can write. I’ve always written all my stories out before I turn them in to be truncated for TV media. I gave them some samples, and…they hired me.”

“Does this mean your and Mihail’s weird relationship is on the skids?”

Ava felt a little wave of sadness. “Yeah. He’s happy for me, but he belongs behind the camera. And not the point-and-shoot kind. We’ll still be friends, though.”

The tailor hovered, and Beth held up a commanding bridal finger.
One more minute.

“Ava.” Beth’s voice went uncharacteristically soft, quiet. “Are you going to fight for him?”

Abruptly Ava felt the now familiar lump in her throat. “I don’t know how, Beth. I told him I love him and he all but kicked me out. Is it possible to get much more vulnerable?”

“Maybe he’ll come to you. Maybe he just needs time.”

“Yeah,” Ava said, forcing a smile. “Maybe.”

But she didn’t believe it for a second.

L
uc, you’re being an ass, you know.”

Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot lately
.

Luc rolled his shoulders restlessly against the way his uniform chafed uncomfortably against his skin in the hot, crowded diner. “This coming from
you
?”

Vincent shrugged, looking perfectly comfortable in his white linen shirt. Most of the time Luc wasn’t jealous that as a detective, Vincent had the option of wearing plainclothes while the rest of the family had the standard-issue uniform.

Hell, for occasions such as this, Vincent probably would have done well to wear his dress-up uniform too.

But…this was Vincent. Doing the expected was not really his thing.

Vin nodded in the direction of Anthony who was currently locked in conversation with some of the other NYPD captains. “How long until you think he starts asking us to call him ‘Captain’ at family dinner.”

Luc snorted. “I think that’s already started. I asked him if he’d used the last of the milk this morning and he refused to answer me until I used his title.”

Anthony had finally gotten that damned promotion, and Luc couldn’t be happier for his big brother. In true Moretti fashion, they’d opted to skip all of the fancy banquet halls for the celebratory party and opted with the place they all felt most comfortable: the Darby Diner.

Although, the evening was emotional in another way too. In addition to celebrating Anthony’s promotion, they were also bidding farewell to Helen. The elderly waitress had told them last Sunday that she wanted to spend the rest of her days with her grandchildren in Houston, and the Morettis had insisted that she come to Anthony’s party…as a guest. It made for a bittersweet evening. The start of one person’s career. The end of another’s.

A petite, angel-faced blonde appeared between Luc and Vincent, linking arms with both of them and pretending to use their body weight to “swing” like a little kid.

Luc happily complied while Vincent jerked his arm away with an irritable growl. The pretty blonde blew Luc’s pissy brother a kiss, which he patently ignored.

Luc grinned, in spite of his bad mood.

Jill Henley was the darling of the NYPD. With her light blond hair, huge blue eyes, and heart-shaped face with matching dimples in each cheek, she had definitely hit the genetics jackpot. Her personality was equally compelling. She had the sort of friendly charm that had been known to coax even the roughest of suspects to start talking.

In other words, she was the perfect good cop, to Vin’s bad cop.

Which was damned convenient considering they were partners.

Jill ignored Vincent as she stood there, arms linked with Luc. “What’s up with your brother? Constipated again?”

Luc grinned down at her. “Which one?”

“Good point. Your big brothers must have left all the friendly genes in the womb for you to soak up.”

“Disgusting,” Vincent muttered.

Luc kind of agreed.

Jill’s eyes sought and found Anthony. “The captain’s dress uniform looks good on Anth.
Really
good.”

Vincent gave her a dark look. “You hitting on my brother?”

Jill batted her eyelashes. “You jealous?”

Vincent snarled, which Jill ignored. “Hey, did you guys meet Helen’s replacement?”

“Yeah,” Luc said distractedly. “Megan.”

“Maggie,” Jill corrected. “Poor thing dropped a pitcher of iced tea. Splattered all over Anth’s shoes. As you can imagine, he did that pissy, glaring thing, and she looked about ready to cry. Still, she’s cute, don’t you think?”

Luc searched the room until his eyes landed on the brunette woman who would be taking Helen’s place at the diner. She was a far cry from the hunched, motherly figure of her predecessor. The waitress looked to be around thirty, curvy in all the right places, with a wide friendly smile. Jill was right. She was cute, in the friendly, girl-next-door kind of way. Something that had appealed to him back before his tastes had idiotically shifted from soft and sweet to sharp and ambitious.

Maggie stopped to talk to Luc’s father, and Luc’s eyebrows lifted at the ease in which she drew his often-crusty father into laughing conversation. Impressive.

“Right?” Jill jabbed his side. “Cute.”

Luc shrugged.

“Drop it, Henley,” Vincent told Jill. “
Bambino
here no longer recognizes women whose names aren’t palindromes,” Vincent said.

Luc shot him the finger as Jill shifted her attention to Vincent. “What about you? Do you think she’s cute?”

Vincent merely glared at Jill and walked away.

Luc shook his head as he took a sip of his rapidly warming iced tea. “I don’t know how you two survive each other.”

“Right?” she said, her voice unperturbed. “I’m thinking we should totally have a TV show based on us. The dark, dickwad cop and his perfect, darling partner.”

Luc smiled. “The latter who is of course, unaware of her charm.”

“Naturally.”

“You have seen most male/female partner cop shows, right? You know how those generally end up.” Luc glanced down and wiggled his eyebrows.

Jill rolled her eyes. “Yeah, trust me. That’s
not
happening with your dearest brother.”

“No? How about with me?”

She arched an eyebrow, knowing he was joking. “Rumor has it you’re taken.”

Just like that, all the mirth, all the elation about his brother’s promotion, seeped out of him.

Ava
. He hated that he knew exactly how many days it had been since he’d last seen her. Twelve.

Twelve of the shittiest days of his life.

Jill pointed across the diner to where his mom and sister stood talking to Nonna. “Does this have anything to do with why the women in your family aren’t speaking to you?”

“Oh, Nonna speaks to me,” Luc said. “This morning, in fact, I woke up to see her sitting on my bed where she sang the entire lyrics to ‘I Will Always Love You.’”

Jill glanced up at him. “Dolly Parton style or Whitney style?”

He gave her a look. “Really?”

She shrugged. “There’s a distinct difference. But I suppose that’s not the most important question, is it?”

He remained silent, but Jill didn’t take the
back off
hint.

“The more important question is how are you going to get them to start talking to you again,” she said, tapping a finger against her pouty mouth.

“They’ll get over it.” He took a sip of iced tea, crunching moodily on one of the last remaining ice cubes.

“Maybe. But will you?”

“Don’t, Jill.”

She ignored him. She might as well be his sister for all she listened to him. “
Or
, you can see that maybe they’re right. That maybe you’re punishing this Ava woman and yourself for nothing.”

“You are aware that a couple weeks from now, there’s going to be a three-hour special on my life, right?”

She shrugged. “Not Ava’s fault you leaped into the East River to save a Barbie.”

“I didn’t—”

“I know, I know, joking. But seriously, Luc…aren’t you being hypocritical? You can’t on one hand keep telling yourself that you’ve forgiven her, for what was, admittedly, a shitty move on her part, while also refusing to let her into your life.”

“Cops don’t make good husbands, Jill.”

She patted his arm as she eased away. “Now now…who said anything about husbands?”

Shit.

Jill grinned. “Aw,
bambino
. You’re worse off than I thought.”

“How’s my son worse off?”

Luc and Jill turned around to see Luc’s father standing behind him. Tony was all smiles for Jill, although his gaze never really left Luc.

“Hey, Big T,” Jill said, standing on her toes and waiting until Luc’s father leaned down so she could kiss his cheek. “I was just telling your son here that he’s being an idiot.”

“Something you typically reserve for my other son,” Tony said with a smile. “Not that I disagree. Vincent can be…difficult.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jill said. “We’re just going to pretend that’s not a
massive
understatement. But don’t think you can distract me from the fact that Luc let a very good woman walk away.”

Luc glared at her. “You’ve never even met Ava.”

“Oh, and whose fault is that?”

Luc’s jaw worked for several seconds as he glanced around the room, looking for someone, or something, on which to fix his gaze. But his eyes couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Because the one person he wanted to be looking at was nowhere around. Because he hadn’t invited her. Because she didn’t
belong
.

“Jill, can we have a minute?” Tony murmured quietly.

“Sure,” Jill said. She grabbed Luc’s hand as she passed. Squeezed. He squeezed back.

Luc stood shoulder to shoulder with his father for several minutes in silence.

“Is she right?” Tony said finally. “About Ava? You let her walk away?”

Luc glanced at his father. “I’d have thought you’d be thrilled.”

His father turned to face him. “Why the hell would you think that?”

“Maybe the fact that you were trying to warn me off of her every time we talked? I thought you’d be elated that she’s out of the picture.”

His father held his gaze before looking away. “I think maybe I was wrong about that.”

Luc’s head jerked back in surprise. His father had always been a fair, if not sometimes stubborn, man, but admitting he was wrong had never been one of his strong points.

“How so?” Luc asked warily.

His father rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, I don’t know that this will translate until you have kids of your own, but when you’re a parent, you can get…crazy. And you can do things you wouldn’t normally, say things you shouldn’t…whatever it takes to protect your own.”

“I know, Dad,” Luc said huskily. “You did what you did about Mike and Shayna because you thought it was
right
.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Tony said. “I mean, yes, I’d do that all over again, although I wouldn’t have kept it a secret from you. But what I’m trying to say, Luca…being a cop’s important. It’s damned well defined me and this family for decades. But it’s not the
most
important thing.”

“Dad—”

“I take it for granted,” Tony said, his voice sad. “I have your mother. And you kids. And I forget…I forget that you need space to find yours.”

“Find my what?” Luc asked, even though he already knew the answer.

His father met his eyes. “Your heart. The one who makes you a better cop because she makes you a better man.”

Luc swallowed, and he stared blindly at the crowd. “I think I already found her.”

His father’s hand landed on his shoulder. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”