Page 10 of Ava After Midnight (Chaos and Chemistry #2)

Chapter Ten

DOMINGO

A drenaline jolts through my veins as Ava scrambles for her clothes and I leisurely collect my own, the intoxicating haze of last night replaced by stark reality. Ava’s hands tremble as she buttons her shirt, and I ache to still them, to pull her back into the cocoon of whispered Spanish and forbidden touches we created.

But the real world won’t wait.

“Ava?” Zoe’s voice pierces our haven first, concern edged with warning. She stands in the doorway, assessing, before continuing to speak in a raised voice, no doubt meant for whoever came with her. “Hair and makeup are here! And your mom’s right behind me with the dress!”

Ava freezes mid-motion, eyes going wide. “No, it’s tomorrow?—”

“It’s Saturday morning.” Zoe’s already in motion, erasing traces of what happened between us. “Your perfect country club wedding waits for no one.”

“Fuck.” Ava rakes a hand through her tangled curls. Marks from my hungry mouth stain her neck, and a dark part of me hums in satisfaction at the sight. But then I see it—the conflict in her eyes. The way she’s already slipping back into the version of herself that was made for him, not for me.

“Kitchen, back door,” Zoe instructs, nodding toward the hallway. “I’ll distract them. But move— they’re unloading up front.”

I snatch my phone and hesitate. “Ava?—”

“I can’t.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I need time to think.”

“Ava Marie Williams!” Her mother’s voice slices through the air, sharp and commanding. “Why aren’t you answering? Makeup is ready!”

Zoe practically shoves me toward the door. “Go. Now.”

Through the narrow gap between the door and the wall, I glimpse Ava pressing a hand against the mirror, her reflection staring back at her like a stranger. The woman who came alive under my hands, wild and unfiltered, is already fading. I see the cage closing in around her, and my mastery over myself shatters like broken glass.

But I leave.

As I slip out into the morning, Zoe’s cheerful distractions fade behind me, replaced by the rhythmic pounding of my heartbeat. I move on autopilot, navigating the city with the muscle memory of someone who’s been lost before.

***

Back in my apartment, last night clings to me like a ghost. I step into the shower, but the steam just conjures images of her—Ava’s eyes, heavy-lidded and hungry, her body moving against mine like we were made to fit together. I brace my hands against the tile, sucking in breath after breath, but nothing can wash away the feel of her.

A fist pounds against my door, yanking me back to reality. I grab a towel and swing it open to find Mateo, arms crossed, already assessing the disaster that is me.

“You’re late,” he says, stepping inside like he owns the place. “I was about to call hospitals.”

“Last night got... complicated.”

One eyebrow lifts as he takes in the fresh bruises along my collarbone. “I can see that.”

“It’s not like that.”

Mateo snorts. “Isn’t it? A gorgeous woman, a stormy night—every bartender’s fantasy.” His expression shifts. “Or is there more I should know?”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. How do I explain what Ava did to me? How do I put into words the way she’s rearranged every truth I thought I knew about myself?

“I’m fucked,” I mutter instead, dropping onto the couch, my head in my hands.

Mateo leans against the counter, studying me. “For real?”

I think about the way Ava looked at me, like I was the answer to a question she never dared to ask. The way she came undone in my arms, not just from pleasure but from something deeper, something real.

“Real enough that I’m losing my mind over a woman who’s getting married in a few hours.”

Mateo exhales. “Damn, hermano .” A beat of silence. “So fight for her.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “She’s getting married, Mateo.”

“Is she, though?” He cocks his head. “You said it yourself—he’s not right for her. But you... If anyone could make a bride think twice, it’s you.”

Hope stabs through me, sharp and unwelcome. “She’s not just any bride.”

“No,” Mateo agrees. “She’s your bride. The one you’ll regret losing for the rest of your life if you don’t at least try.”

His words hit harder than they should. I see Ava again—pressed against that mirror, torn between duty and the fire we sparked together.

And suddenly, I know. I have to see her.

I surge to my feet, already moving. “I have to go.”

Mateo grins. “Now we’re talking.”

I grab my keys, but he stops me with a look. “Wait. You’re going like that?”

I glance down at my worn jeans and t-shirt. “What’s wrong with this?”

“Domingo. My guy. You’re crashing a black tie event.” He strides past me, yanking open my closet. “At least try to look the part.”

He pulls out my lone black suit. “You’ve got to put your best foot forward. Show her you can fit into her world if that’s what she chooses.”

His meaning sinks in. I strip off the street clothes and reach for the hanger.

The jacket’s snug, the slacks a little too short, but when I button the dress shirt and knot the tie, something in me settles.

Mateo whistles low. “Now there’s a man ready to fight for his woman.”

Damn straight.

My phone is in my hand before I can think better of it. I scroll through my contacts, my fingers hovering over Ava’s name before I hesitate. No. Not her.

I dial the only other person who might actually answer.

Zoe picks up after one ring. “Make it fast, Casanova. Bridal boot camp is in full swing.”

“Where’s the wedding?” My voice is steel.

Silence. Then, cautiously—“Why?”

“I can’t let her do this,” I confess, the truth ripping from me like it’s been caged too long. “I have to see her. I have to try.”

A beat. Then, softly—“St. Regis. Four PM. The Astor Ballroom.”

Relief floods my chest. “Thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Zoe warns. “Don’t break her heart.”

“I won’t.” And for the first time in my life, I mean it.

A text pings through as I step into my car. It’s from Zoe. A photo of an invitation. Elegant. Embossed.

Astor Ballroom. 4PM.

This is happening.

I grip the wheel, chest tight.

If I do this, there’s no turning back. No erasing it. No pretending it didn’t mean something.

I see her again, trapped in that mirror.

The city whips by in a blur as I speed toward destiny, every second a countdown to something I can’t control. I could turn back. Let her go. Disappear.

But my hands are already tightening on the wheel. My chest tightens with each rapid breath.

Fuck it.

I slam my foot down on the gas. Time to crash a wedding.