Chapter 2

The next day, I found Ethan at his temporary office downtown. His family still owned the building, a hollow shell of its former glory.

I walked past the unimpressed receptionist.

Ethan looked up from his desk, his eyes narrowing when he saw me.

"I told you to stay away."

"We need to talk."

I held up my phone. On the screen was a photo. Us, years ago, tangled together in my narrow bed, young and reckless. There were others. And then I played a few seconds of the demo tape. Our song. The one we wrote in my dad' s dusty office, full of dreams and fears.

"Intimate photos, Ethan. And our song. Olivia would love these. So would the press, I imagine. 'Investment Banker' s Torrid Past with Local Musician.' "

His face went pale, then flushed with anger. "You wouldn' t."

"Two months, Ethan. That' s all I' m asking. Spend your last two months of bachelorhood with me. Reconnect. For old times' sake." My voice was surprisingly steady.

"This is blackmail."

"Call it whatever you want."

He stared at me, his jaw working. The silence stretched. I could see the calculations in his eyes. His family' s reputation. The Hayes deal. Olivia.

He leaned back in his chair. A slow, cold smirk spread across his face.

"Alright, Ava. You want to play? Let' s play."

He agreed. Just like that.

A shiver went down my spine. This wasn' t the Ethan I remembered. This was someone harder, colder.

"My terms," he said. "No one knows. Not Olivia, not your friends. This is between us."

I nodded. "Fine."

I walked out of his office, my legs shaking.

Two months.

I didn' t tell him why it had to be two months. I didn' t tell him about the cancer eating away at my lungs.

This wasn' t about pity. It was about feeling alive, one last time.

Even if it was a lie. Even if it was forced.

I wanted to feel his arms around me, hear his voice, pretend, for a little while, that we had a future.

Or at least, a past worth remembering.

He picked me up that night. No words, just a curt nod.

We drove to Barton Springs, the place we' d shared our first real kiss. The water was cool, the night air warm.

He was stiff, distant. I tried to make small talk, but it died in the awkward silence.

Then, he kissed me.

It wasn't gentle. It was hard, demanding, full of resentment and a desperate, buried hunger.

I kissed him back, just as fiercely. For a moment, the years fell away.

Then, a sharp pain shot through my chest. I gasped, pushing him away instinctively.

He recoiled, his face darkening. "What now, Ava? Second thoughts?"

"No, it' s just…" I couldn' t tell him.

He misunderstood. Of course, he did.

"This was your idea, remember?" he said, his voice laced with contempt.

He got out of the car, walked to the edge of the water, and stared out.

I watched him, the pain in my chest a dull ache now.

He came back, got in, started the engine.

"I' ll see you tomorrow," he said, his tone flat. He dropped me at my apartment without another word.

Abandonment. It was a familiar feeling.

A few days later, my mother called. She rarely did.

"Ava, darling. Your aunt Carol is having a little get-together on Sunday. You should come. It' s been so long."

My mother. Still trying to manage my life, even from afar. She' d remarried, moved to Dallas, and mostly pretended my father and I didn' t exist, unless it suited her.

Aunt Carol' s gatherings were always an ordeal. Strained smiles and polite questions about why I wasn' t married yet, why my music career hadn' t taken off.

"I don' t know, Mom…"

"Ethan will be there, you know. With Olivia. His father is Carol' s cousin, twice removed, or something. It would look good for you to be seen."

Ethan. Of course. My mother never missed a trick.

The family meal was as awkward as I expected.

Ethan and Olivia were the golden couple. He was attentive to her, charming to everyone else. He barely looked at me.

During dinner, a piece of shrimp from my salad skittered off my plate. Before I could react, Ethan, sitting opposite, leaned over and subtly scooped it up with his fork, placing it on the side of his own plate.

No one else noticed.

He didn' t look at me.

It was a small thing, almost insignificant. But it was… something. A reflex from a time when he used to look out for me.

Or maybe he just didn' t want a scene.

After dinner, my mother cornered me.

"Ava, I want you to meet Richard. His son is a doctor. Very successful."

Richard was at least sixty, with a comb-over and a lecherous smile.

"Mom, please."

"Don' t be difficult, Ava. You' re not getting any younger." Her voice was sharp. She tried to drag me over.

I pulled my arm away. "No."

She hissed, "You' re embarrassing me!"

The exchange drew looks. Olivia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Ethan was across the room, talking to Olivia' s father. He was laughing, his arm around Olivia' s waist. She leaned into him, proprietary.

He looked happy. Secure.

It was a sharp contrast to the tension coiling in my own stomach.

The sight of them together, so comfortable, so right, sent a fresh wave of pain through me, deeper than the cancer.

This was his life now. I was just a ghost, a blackmailing ghost, clinging to the edges.

Later, as I was leaving, he followed me out to my car.

"What was that with your mother?" he asked, his voice neutral.

"Just Mom being Mom."

"You looked… upset."

Was that concern? I almost laughed.

"Don' t worry about it, Ethan. It has nothing to do with you."

I got into my car. He stood there, watching me.

I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking.

"Ava."

I looked up. He was closer now, leaning down, his face near the open window.

"This arrangement… it' s just for the two months, right?"

"That' s what I said."

He reached in, his hand covering mine on the ignition. His touch was electric.

"Good."

Then he leaned in further and kissed me again. Harder this time. Possessive. Angry.

My mind screamed no, but my body betrayed me.

I was so tired of fighting.