My touch moves to her face. Her skin is glowing. Her lashes are incomprehensibly long. Her lips are beautifully swollen and pink. You need this. “Do whatever it takes,” I whisper, my eyes traveling across her peaceful face. “You want to be here,” I tell her quietly. “And I will absolutely ensure it’s the best decision you’ll ever make.” I lean in and drop a kiss on her lips, and she murmurs sleepily, her hand lifting and falling onto my nape. I pull back a little, studying her. “Save me, Ava,” I whisper. “You’re the only one who can.” My eyes close, and I sink my face into her neck as she skates her hand back and forth across my nape for a few hypnotic moments, before her moves slow to nothing again. I remain still against her. Rested, despite my restlessness. Calm, despite the swirl of torment inside. Happy, despite the misery shrouding my existence.

I tear myself from her body and tuck her in, then pad quietly out of the bedroom, taking myself down to the kitchen for some water. As I’m downing the glass, my eyes land on her purse. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and approach with caution, my eyes flicking to the doorway, my mind seeing her snuggled up safely in my bed. Unconscious. Unaware. This huge, sprawling penthouse feels somehow homelier with Ava here. My life is somehow more tolerable.

I reach into her purse gingerly and shift a few things aside. A pack of pills lays at the bottom. Take them.

I retract my hand, stepping back, getting a safe distance away. “Stop it,” I say to my wayward mind. “Just—” My foot catches something on the floor, and I glance down. Her shoe. I look across the kitchen and spy the rest of her clothes, scattered all over the place. Without a second thought, and perhaps to get me away from her purse, I gather her things and place them on the island. And stare at them.

Keep her.

I scoop the pile up and go to the fridge—the fucking fridge?—and stuff them all inside. I close the door. Stare at it. “Call the fucking shrink, Ward,” I say, and yet I don’t rectify my move. Instead, I collect my clothes from the floor and pace out of the kitchen, refusing to look at her purse, my face bunching up as I fight off the devil on my shoulder yelling at me to secure the deal. For fuck’s sake.

Distraction.