I dip and weave through the early morning traffic, my mind constantly wandering to crazy places. Crazy but wonderful. Crazy but amazing. Crazy but stable. I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman. I’m not being compulsive, I’m being a realist. This crazy can’t end. I need it. More than I need redemption, because without it, I don’t feel like I can ever have redemption, and despite there being many I need forgiveness from, Ava is the only person alive who can give me that forgiveness. With her mercy, I can move on. Build on my dreams. Forgive myself.

I pull up down the street from her office and shift in my seat to face her. Her smile is demure. Her eyes bottomless pits of possibilities. She can’t be this close without me touching her.

Reaching for her full lips, I rub my thumb from one side to the other, and her mouth falls open a fraction. Just this simple, tiny touch. Explosions. “I love waking up with you.” I hate the unstoppable thoughts haunting me but having her around makes them more bearable. She makes me think harder. Want better.

“I love waking up with you too,” she replies softly, turning her face slightly into my touch. “But I don’t like being run ragged at five in the morning.”

“You would prefer to be fucked ragged?” I ask, my hand sliding down her front.

“No, I prefer sleepy sex.” She leans across the car, dislodging my hand from her chest, and plants a fleeting kiss on my lips. I don’t get a second to appreciate it or escalate it. She’s out of the car quickly, leaving me a burning mess in front of the wheel, wondering where the fuck the rest of that kiss is. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow.” She smiles sweetly, and my frown deepens. Tomorrow? Definitely not. “Thank you for exhausting me before work.” The door shuts, and my brain doesn’t work nearly fast enough to tell me to stop her. I sit, pouting, wrestling back my compulsion to dive out and pin her to the ground to convince her otherwise.

“Tomorrow?” I ask myself, seeing her disappear into her office. “Tomor . . . oh no.” It’s Friday. She thinks she’s going out with Kate tonight. “Over my dead body.” Visions of wine and a stumbling Ava is suddenly all I can see. Drunk Ava. Reckless Ava. Vulnerable Ava. “Not happening,” I say to myself, starting my car and performing a quick three-point-turn in the road. I cruise past her office slowly, looking through the window. She’s already at her desk. Head down. Pen in hand. I roll to a stop, trying to conjure up a viable excuse to stop her going out tonight.

You’re being unreasonable, Ward.