"Your mother called me earlier today," she explained. "With her regrets. She said I should contact you."
He chuckled without mirth. His mother had no clue what she might've started. "She told me that, too," he admitted.
"Yet you didn't act on it."
"Probably for the same reason it took you this long to call me."
"It's always been complicated between us, hasn't it?"
Ever since Phil had declared himself. "Yes."
"Even at this moment, I'm telling myself I'm stupid to ask for more disappointment and pain. But sometimes, when it's late like this, I think about you, and I--" Her voice broke and she didn't finish.
The silence was awkward again. Was she crying? He couldn't tell, but he suspected she was. And that made him feel terrible. They'd been friends. At the very least, he owed her his sympathy. "Don't cry, Marissa. I can't stand it."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. That I didn't hold out for you. That I got pregnant so soon and felt as if I was locked in for life. That Phil's dead and we both loved him. Maybe I wanted you instead, but I did love him. I hope you believe that."
She didn't have to convince him. That part was none of his business.
"Why didn't anyone tell me about the funeral?" he asked.
"I thought of it. Of course I thought of it." Her voice turned bitter. "But I was so angry at you for--for not taking me out of the situation I've been in for the past few years. And I couldn't mourn Phil, couldn't even think about him, if I knew you were going to be there."
What she'd revealed made him feel guilty all over again. "I couldn't take you out of the situation, Marissa. You were married to my best friend."
"So he meant more to you than I did."
"You were married, " he said again. "I was waiting to see what would happen with you and Phil. I didn't want to get in the way."
"And now?" she asked. "I'm a widow. Do you stil feel anything for me, Luke? Anything at all?"
Of course he cared about her. He'd always care about her. But could he walk away from what he'd just started with Ava?
He rubbed his face. "Too much is happening at once. I need time to think."
"Call me when you decide. I won't make the same mistake twice. I'l wait as long as you need me to," she said, and disconnected.
Ava was glad when Geoffrey left. She felt horrible that he was taking the disruption of their relationship so hard, but she couldn't even call it a breakup because they'd already broken up. She hadn't expected him to care about losing what was left. He'd been so casual, so preoccupied, so...ready to accept the bare minimum. But he'd stayed for nearly two hours tonight, trying to convince her that she didn't know Luke well enough to choose accurately between them. He said she didn't need to be exclusive with either one, that she should give him another chance.
But she couldn't. She was already in too deep with Luke. For better or for worse, she'd finally summoned enough trust to at least try for the kind of relationship every woman wanted.
Her father had called three times while she and Geoffrey were talking, but she hadn't answered. She felt slightly guilty about that because she knew he couldn't be calling from Carly's house. He wouldn't have dared anger his young wife by showing he cared that much. Which meant Carly must've kicked him out. But even the thought of him on his own didn't make Ava want to speak to him. Why did he reach out to her only when he didn't have anyone else?
"What a day," she grumbled. Hoping to relieve the residual tension from her talk with Geoffrey, she stepped into her shower and felt more relaxed when she got out. She toweled off and was about to put on a nightgown when she remembered Luke's sweatshirt. She preferred to sleep in it, to feel close to him. But she couldn't find it. She thought she'd left it on the floor, the bed or her chair, but it wasn't any of those places.
He must've taken the sweatshirt with him when he went home this morning. She'd been so humiliated and embarrassed by Geoffrey's sudden appearance that she hadn't watched him collect his things. She'd gone into the kitchen and made coffee while waiting for them to leave.
She checked the clock. Nearly midnight. At this rate, morning would come far too soon.
Finished dressing, she turned off the lights and climbed into bed.
She'd cut off her relationship with her father and Geoffrey and welcomed a new man into her heart and her bed, all on the same day. What would tomorrow hold?
Who could say? She fell asleep happy in spite of all that, because she was dreaming of Luke swimming toward her in the river, the moonlight glinting off his bare arms and chest.
Kalyna parked nearly half a mile from the pier where Ava docked her houseboat. It was after midnight. Even with a full moon, the lack of streetlights made this place seem darker than anywhere she'd ever been--
except for the inside of a coffin. Not many people could say that with any authority, but she could. Mark had put her in one. It'd been part of their usual game of Truth or Dare. She always chose Dare. Dare got you what you wanted. Truth only got you into trouble.
The ground was too spongy for her footsteps to make any noise. As she got out of the car and went to the trunk to get her tools, a loud chorus of cicadas welcomed her to the delta, along with the fecund smell of vegetation. Using a flashlight to avoid walking into a tree, a ditch, a puddle or a slough, she slung her backpack over one shoulder and kept the beam pointed at the ground to avoid being detected in case anyone else was in the area.
But she'd been here before. She knew there was no one else. No other houses. No other boats. Nothing to worry about.
The darkness felt thick enough to slice with her knife--probably because it was so hot and there was no wind. Beads of sweat rolled between Kalyna's br**sts as she hiked to the road and made her way down to the pier, but she didn't think the temperature was exclusively to blame. She had so much adrenaline pumping through her it felt as if her heart would leap right out of her chest.
Ava's houseboat was as dark as the night, but the lapping of the water against its sides helped cloak the creak of Kalyna's footsteps on the wooden pier. She was fairly certain Ava was home, and she was fairly certain Ava was alone. It was a weeknight, her car was where she usually parked it and there were no other vehicles. Kalyna had called Luke from a pay phone only forty minutes ago, and hung up when he answered, just to be sure he was at his apartment.
The boat rocked slightly when she climbed aboard. Wondering how sensitive Ava was to such minute changes in her surroundings, Kalyna snapped off the flashlight and held her breath. But Ava didn't come out to see what was going on. If she was home, she was dead asleep.