Chapter 102

Ava

I tried to hide the mess quickly and haphazardly, but it didn’t matter; it was already too late. Chris had already seen the stained sheets and the look of panic on my face.

For several moments, a tense silence hung between us as I stood there, clutching my ball of bloodied sheets with my nightgown stained red, and Chris stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes flickered first to my sheets, then to my thighs, and then to the unmade bed.

Suddenly, I felt a rush of embarrassment wash over me—memories of what Ethan would have done in a similar situation flooding back and practically drowning me.

Ethan.

He had always treated my period like it was some sort of unspeakable taboo, something to be ashamed of and hidden away. I remembered the way he would wrinkle his nose in disgust whenever I mentioned it, or how he would refuse to help me change the sheets, leaving me to deal with the mess on my own.

Goddess forbid I ever asked him to go to the store to get me pads, either. “That’s a woman’s job,” he would say whenever I asked. “It’s not my fault that you didn’t think to prepare.”

“But it came early,” I would argue. “It’s not my fault, either. Can’t you just help me—”

“No. I’m not embarrassing myself like that.”

Eventually, I learned my lesson and gave up asking. I figured, in some silly sort of way, that maybe Ethan was right; maybe, just maybe, it was my fault. Maybe I should have been better prepared, or I should have been tracking my cycle more closely. And perhaps menstruation really was something to be embarrassed about. Something to be hidden away from the rest of the world, treated like a curse rather than a blessing.

And as I stood there, still clutching my sheets in trembling hands, I thought that Chris would feel the same way.

But he didn’t. No, to my surprise, Chris didn’t react that way at all. Instead, he simply gave me a sympathetic look and stepped forward, gently taking the bundle of soiled sheets out of my hands.

“It’s alright, Ava,” he said softly. “Why don’t you go and take a nice hot shower? I’ll take care of this.”

I blinked at him, my first instinct to think that I was in the middle of some kind of bizarre dream. For a moment, my mouth opened and then closed of its own accord, unable to find the right words.

Finally, I managed to stammer out, “A-Are you sure? I can handle it. I know it’s gross.”

“Gross?” He dismissed me with a nonchalant wave of his hand, already crossing over to the door with the sheets in tow. “Don’t be ridiculous. Go relax and get yourself cleaned up. I’ve got this under control.”

I swallowed, taking a hesitant step forward. “But it’s not easy to clean the blood out of fabric,” I insisted. “You need cold water, and—”

“And baking soda, I know,” he said with a laugh. “Make a paste and let it sit, then scrub it off and toss it in the washing machine. I’ve had women in my life before, Ava.”

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving me standing there feeling as though I had just been hit by a freight train. Finally, only pulled out of my reverie by the unmistakable sensation of a little more blood trickling down my leg, I retreated to the bathroom.

Sniffling, I stripped off my nightgown and stepped into the steaming shower. As the hot water cascaded over me, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of emotion at Chris’s kindness—and a fresh twinge of guilt at the thought that I might have to break things off with him soon.

He was so wonderful, so understanding and caring. He was one in a million, and yet… I had to end things. I had to, because that was what the pack demanded.

“It must be done, Ava,” Degas had said. “No matter how much it may hurt in the present.”

By the time I stepped out of the shower, the bathroom was filled with the fresh scent of clean linens. I wrapped a towel around myself and peeked into the bedroom to find Chris just finishing up, smoothing out a new set of sheets on the bed.

But that wasn’t all. On the nightstand, he had laid out a little tray with a few necessities: a bottle of painkillers, a fresh box of pads, and even a small square of dark chocolate.

I felt my heart swell with affection—and pain—as I took it in. Chris turned and noticed me standing there, giving me a warm smile.]

“Feeling better?” he asked.

I nodded, unable to find the words to express myself. He seemed to understand, though, and simply gestured towards the tray.

“Get dressed, and then we’ll head out for breakfast at that little cafe you love so much before we head to the ferry,” he said. “My treat.”

As I got ready, slipping a soft dress over my head, I felt yet another pang of sadness. This should have been a happy moment, a moment in any woman’s relationship when she realized that she had chosen the right man.

And yet…

No, I thought to myself. Just enjoy it. Enjoy it while it lasts…

Because it wouldn’t last for much longer.

When we arrived at the cafe, it was a warm and sunny morning, perfect for sitting outside. We settled into a metal bistro table beneath the leafy canopy on the front patio, with Chris ordering waters and coffees for us already.

“Order whatever you’d like,” Chris said as he picked up the menu. He shot me a roguish wink. “Maybe something sweet?”

I managed a chuckle. “Chocolate always helps,” I said softly, gingerly touching my lower belly where the cramps had only just begun to subside ever so slightly thanks to the painkillers.

“Pain au chocolat it is, then.”

For a little while, we just sat there in amicable silence, basking in the morning sun and sipping our coffees. When our food came, I watched as Chris hungrily dug into a vegetable omelet, his face lighting up at the flavors.

But it was then, as I was reaching for my coffee, that I saw him: Elder Degas, meandering across the square with Juniper, his daughter, on his arm. For a moment, I thought that maybe he wouldn’t see me.

They did.

Our gazes met from across the square, and I felt a flush of shame creep up my neck in response to the knowing look in his eyes. Degas knew, of course—he always knew everything, it seemed—what I was doing. Stalling. Delaying. Secretly hoping that maybe, just maybe, if I held out for a few days longer… that some sort of miracle would happen and Chris and I could stay together.

But things were rarely that simple.

I shouldn’t be doing this, I thought to myself. Making things harder for myself… Knowing that I have to end it all.

I quickly averted my eyes, trying to quell the prickling sensation of tears forming at the backs of my eyes. Chris, oblivious to my thoughts, finished off his coffee with a satisfied sigh and checked his watch.

“We should go,” he said, pulling out his wallet and rifling for some cash. “The ferry won’t wait forever.”