Page 79 of If the Stars Align

“Look, Ava,” I tell her. “We haven’t been together that long. You might think you love me, but…I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snaps. “I tell you I love you andthat’syour response?”

I stand and start pacing the room again. My stomach’s churning.

“Do you know how many men wouldkillto be in your shoes, Dex Oliver?” she hisses.

Shit.My hands are shaking. I shove them into the pockets of my $300 sweatpants and hope she doesn’t see what’s happening to me.

When I look back at Ava, I search her face for a hint of the woman I met at Leo’s party that night. But I don’t recognize her at all. She’s morphed into a different being right before my eyes. Something vile, and poisonous.

“Look,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m sorry I lied. I just really want a baby, Dex. And I can’t have a baby with justanyone. I’mAva Elwood, for fuck’s sake.”

I gaze at her, dumbstruck.

“And you have to admit, our kids would be gorgeous,” she adds, her eyes softening again.

I’m barely breathing. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Dex, no!Pleasestay.” She slithers out of bed and across the room to where I’m standing. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep, and we can talk about this with clear heads in the morning.”

I turn away from her. “Ava, there’s nothing you can say that will make this right. I need to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

Fuck. I’m rhyming.

I don’t remember packing my things or putting my suitcase in my car. I barely remember driving myself home, but here I am.

The moment I lock the door behind me, I collapse.

That fiery hair…the way she hissed…and that venomous look in her eyes.

I’ve been pierced by a viper. It’s not just anxiety this time.

I see the headlines: “Dex Oliver Dies of Stress-Induced Heart Attack.”

Too bad I never got help for that.

I promised Sunny I was fine.

I told her I was seeing a therapist, but I lied.

And now I’m dying?—

I’m dying.

I’m dying.

I’m dying.

…

I wake up in a heap by my front door. The sun’s streaming in.

I guess I lived to see another day.

I peel myself off the floor and stand facing the mirror. My troubled eyes and quivering lips are a dead giveaway?—

I’m a fucking mess.