Unavoidable Chance (5 page)

When I go to my own room, a room I never shared in this house with Scarlett, is when my own memories flood my thoughts. Scarlett was so amazing and perfect. She never once complained about military life. She always said, ‘family is where you are’. As long as we had each other and we were together. It never mattered if we moved ten times or twenty. She was an amazing mother and knew all the right things to say and do for our girls. Ever since she died, my dreams at night have been in black and white, completely void of color and joy.

As I drift off to sleep, thoughts of Ava color my unconscious thoughts and I fall asleep with a smile on my face.

The next morning, the first day of summer vacation for the girls and Quinn, I walk into the kitchen and start to make them all pancakes. I spoon in fresh blueberries and make them all plates. The girls, and Quinn, come into the kitchen and take their seats at the bar top as I place their plates in front of them. Sky turns up her nose immediately, no surprise there. I’m armed and ready for such an occurrence though. I sprinkle a small handful of chocolate chips on top of her pancakes and a smile lights up her face. I shove a pancake in my mouth and get a coffee cup to go.

Walking up behind the girls I say, “I’ll see,” I kiss Sky on the back of the head, “you,” I kiss Hope on the back of the head, “later,” I say, kissing Quinn on the back of the head.

“Wait, why are you leaving so early?” Quinn asks.

“I have a few stops I need to make before I go to the restaurant this morning. I’ll see you girls tomorrow morning.”

I get to the mall right at nine and stand in the entrance of the department store I know she had come out of last night. But I stand there not knowing where to begin. What could she have had in the bag? It must have been glass judging by the sound, but the size of the bridal section in this store alone will make me break out into hives. Just then a security guard walks by and it hits me. She’s probably on video somewhere and it will tell me exactly what she bought.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say, following behind the security guard.

“Yes,” he says, suspiciously eyeing me up and down. Truthfully, I get that a lot. People are either scared by my size or get Chihuahua syndrome, and unfortunately for them that can get them hurt. I’m not the violent type by any means, actually quite the opposite, but ignorance doesn’t replace common sense.

“Last night I met a woman here, well not here exactly, it was out in the mall, but she had a blue bag and I know it was from this store. Is there any way you can look up on video surveillance what she bought? She’s gorgeous, long brown hair, stunning blue eyes, hard not to notice.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize how stalkerish they sound.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he says, putting both hands on his large belt. He’s actually trying to intimidate me. He’s got balls, I’ll give him that. Just then I notice the tip of an Air Force tattoo poking out of the top of his grey button up uniform. That surprises me, because tattoos above the collarbone are generally forbidden in the Air Force. I raise my shirt sleeve to expose my own Air Force PJ tattoo, and his eyes instantly fill with respect.

“Sir, it’s an honor to meet you. I’m in the reserves myself,” he says, shaking my hand. We make some small talk, then I remind him that I need information.

He says, “I could get fired for this, wait here and I’ll see what I can find. I’ll see if I can at least figure out what department she purchased from.” He turns around, walks away, and disappears out of sight. I’m standing in the women’s clothing section and I cringe at some of the items hanging on the racks. My girls will never wear miniskirts. And where is the other half of some of these shirts? He comes back out with a smile on his face. “You’re lucky we still had it. It usually gets sent on-line to the corporate office, and then deleted here to record the next day. From your description of her, and since she was one of the last customers to make a purchase, from the looks of it, whatever she purchased was from the housewares department. That’s all I can tell you. I hope that helps,” he says with a nod.

“It does, thank you. And thank you for your service,” I tell him, and head toward that department. I stop and stare at the seemingly endless possible choices. A sales lady immediately steps up and asks, “Can I help you find something?”

“Last night a woman, small brunette with long hair and blue eyes purchased something from this department. I ran into her outside the store and I’m pretty sure I broke it. I wanted to replace it, but I’m not even sure what it is. I can see from your large selection, that’s going to be impossible to figure out. Thanks anyway,” I say, turn around and mentally kick myself in the ass for even trying.

“Actually, I closed last night, and I remember exactly who you’re talking about and what she purchased,” she says, calling after me. I turn back around and follow her to wine glasses. “These,” she says, pointing to a set.

I pick up the decanter and look at the price tag on the bottom and gasp. This is definitely a costly habit. The sales lady says she purchased four wine glasses and I’m not sure that I believe her. I think she’s just trying to get an extra sale out of me. I purchase the four wine glasses and the decanter, too. I know something broke, but I don’t know what. So, I have to purchase it all.

Next, I head to the dry cleaners to pick up my chef coats, or I won’t have any clean ones to wear tonight. I still don’t know how to get the wine glasses and decanter to Ava though. I can’t just show up at her office again. Or, can I?

I head into the dry cleaners just as someone is heading out. I hold the door open for them just as they raise their garments up in front of their face. I thought she saw me, but when she proceeds to walk into me, it’s clear that she didn’t.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she says. She pulls the garments down, which now I recognize one as the yellow shirt that I spilled coffee on only a few days ago. She looks me in the eyes and says, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Of all the dry cleaners in Seattle, you use this one? Are you stalking me? Never mind, I’m late for court,” she says, rushing out the door.

“Let me remind you that you were the one to walk into me this time.” She rolls her eyes at me and starts to walk away. My little girls rolling their eyes at me is like nails on a chalkboard, but having Ava do it to me too, just pisses me off. I’ve been nothing but nice to her, which reminds me. “Hey, wait up a minute. I have something for you…” But it’s too late. She’s already in her little red car heading out into the street. I pick up my dry cleaning and decide to just bite the bullet and go to her office. She said she was late for court, maybe I’ll get lucky again and she won’t even be in the office. Man, when did I turn into a pansy?

I get to her office and take the elevator to her floor. I see her assistant sitting behind her desk and she immediately gets a wicked smile on her face. Just as I get to her desk armed with my blue bag, Ava comes out of her office with a green gift bag in her hands and stops dead in her tracks. She eyes the blue bag in my hands, then her eyes narrow as they come to mine.

“What are you doing?” she asks snottily.

“I tried to catch you at the dry cleaners, but you ran off so fast,” I start to tell her.

“Get in my office,” she demands. She takes the remaining steps toward me, then grabs my hand and forcefully pulls me in her office. I’m a big dude, and she’s a little thing, probably a hundred pounds soaking wet, but she pulled me so hard I had no other choice but to go with her. “Seriously, are you stalking me? Because, I have three really big brothers who’ll kick your ass with just a phone call, and I have a friend of the family who’s a PI on speed-dial that knows where to bury the body.”

Note to self - don’t get on her bad side. Second note to self - she’s cute when she’s mad. Third note to self - find out if any of that is true.

“I’m not a stalker. For some reason, us running into each other has become unavoidable. I felt really bad about last night, so I went to the store this morning and repurchased what you bought,” I say, holding out the bag.

She shakes her head back and forth and I can see she’s coming around, and she’ll thank me in 3…2…1…

“I just don’t even know where to begin. I don’t even want to know how you know exactly what I purchased last night. Again, I stick with my stalker comment. Get out of my office and stay the hell away from me,” she says, pointing her finger at the closed door.

Alright, that’s not where I thought she was going with that. I put the bag down on the couch beside the door, hold up my hands in surrender and leave. She walks behind me until she reaches the doorway, and then watches me get on the elevator and leave. But before the elevator door closed all the way, I caught the slight pull on her lips as she smiled.

Chapter 4

Ava

As mad as Jax just made me, I eye the blue bag on my couch and have a tug of war fight in my brain, whether or not to take a wine glass out of it. Seriously, I can’t give Reagan a wine glass set with only three glasses. Who does that? I suppose I could just take one glass out of my bag and give her two glasses with the decanter and one bottle of wine. Damn it, I wanted to give her four. I quickly sit on the couch and take out one glass from Jax’s bag and put it in the green bag. I take out one bottle of wine, because that would have made seven items in the bag. I set the extra wine bottle on the couch next to Jax’s blue bag and head out to Reagan’s desk. I’m going to be late for court again, that’ll be twice this week. I stop mid stride as the number of items sitting on my couch hits me. Ugh, it makes five items sitting on my couch.

I had planned on coming in early and decorating Reagan’s desk with flowers and balloons, but that didn’t happen. I woke up still sitting at the table with a Twinkie wrapper in my hand and a piece of paper stuck to my face from drool. Savvy was still sleeping, usually her gum chomping in the morning can wake me up from a mile away, but she came in late from working at the bar and we both overslept. I never oversleep. My internal clock sets itself. Every time I set my alarm in the morning, I wake up on my own at least fifteen minutes before the alarm goes off. It never fails. Well, except for last night at work when time got away from me and I had to rush to the mall. Which brings me back to the bag in my hand, shit I’m going to be late for court!

I rush out of my office and place the bag in front of Reagan and say, “Happy birthday! I’m sorry I have to rush. I’m going to be late. You leave at noon and have a fabulous day.” I kiss her on the cheek and rush to the elevator. Gah, I can’t do it. I frantically stab at the open button and put my arm in the door just before it closes. I quickly walk/run back to my office, smile at Reagan like I’m an idiot, and take the bottle of wine off the couch and put it under my desk. Much better. I yell happy birthday again to Reagan on my way back out.

I hurry to my car and drive/speed to the courthouse. At least now I don’t have to obsess about the items on my couch during court. My cell phone chirps in my purse and I remind myself to look at it after court.

I’m off again all day in court. Every time I start my morning late, it ends in disaster. I get back to the office just after five and see a stack of yellow sticky notes in the center of my desk. Work is never ending. I have at least six hours of work to do in the office tonight before I can go home, and probably another two hours of work I need to do from home. The top sticky note is written with a fat, black Sharpie, and underlined in a red one, three times.

Shout much, Reagan?

It says, ‘Check your cell phone.’ Check my cell phone? That’s right, I did mean to check my cell phone after court. I dig it out of my purse and find seventeen texts and eight missed phone calls. I look at the pile of sticky notes and every one of them says the same thing all about fifteen minutes apart. Oh my God, what’s happened? Something bad must have happened. I quickly open my texts and they’re all from my family. Most of them are from Shay, so I immediately dial her number. With shaky hands I put my phone to my ear and listen to it ring.

“There you are,” she answers. “Look, we all decided to get together tonight for an impromptu night out and have dinner. We’re all just getting to the restaurant. I’ll text you the address. Get your hard working ass down here. See you in a little bit,” she says, and hangs up on me.

“But…”  I start to protest, but the call has already ended. I hang my head. I’ll never get things done and I’ll never make partner. My phone chirps in my hand with an address just like Shay promised. Well, I am hungry. What did I even eat today? I wrack my brain and come up empty handed. Oh my God, I didn’t eat anything today. In the end my stomach wins out over the mound of work I have to do. I straighten my desk as much as I can and hurry back down to my car. I punch in the address in my GPS and follow its turn-by-turn directions.

The feeling in the pit of my stomach is confirmed when the restaurant comes into view. Why? Just freaking why? I pull into Jax Restaurant and park as close to the road as I can, just in case I need a speedy emergency exit.

I walk into the restaurant and it smells amazing. I duck and try to hide behind the couple waiting in line in front of me. The hostess turns to me and says, “Welcome to Jax, How many in your party this evening?”

“I’m here meeting my family, Wellington is the last name,” I whisper.

“Certainly, if you’ll follow me, I’ll take you right to their table,” she says with a smile.

“Ava, there you are. It’s about time you got here,” Asher says as he stands, then kisses me on the cheek.

“Shh,” I say, waving my hands in front of my face, then duck into the only remaining seat between Amelia and Aiden.

“Shh, why?” Asher asks.

“Yeah, why shh? Are you hiding from the cops or something? Do you have a bench warrant out for your arrest? Were you held in contempt in court today?” Aiden says chuckling.

“No, smartass, I don’t have a bench warrant out and I’ve never been held in contempt,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.