Once, Humphrey told me that life, however you plan it, goes down a path of its own. That life is never something to predict. I didn't believe him. Thought he was nuts, to say the least. I wasn't ever one to listen to others advice. Especially at 13 when I thought I had the entire world figured out.

Well, it turned out that Humphrey couldn't have been more correct. The way my life turned out is the life that I tried hardest to avoid. The life I wouldn't have dared to live. The path you wouldn't have been able to drag me through.

But - I love it. I don't have to put on airs and I'm completely free, for the first time, to make my own choices. And, best of all, I feel - alive.

But this story isn't just about me and the life that I've led. It takes place in a grande city called Great Snave. And the man who showed me the world - my protector, my husband.

…

My father met my mother at a small diner that she worked at when they were teenagers. He always says that when she strutted to his table, "she had my heart." I always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and I still think that. With her long, soft auburn hair, perfect figure, jade, green orbs to get lost in, small, button nose and full ruby red lips, who couldn't think that? My father was equally handsome, with his tall, muscular physique, tan skin, jet black cropped hair, and a tiny mustache that lay upon his thin, top lip. Though my mother was as sweet as can be, she was a tough cookie to crack, my father finally getting her to go on a date with him after stopping by the diner every day at around the same time for two months. Soon after, they'd fallen in love with each other, despite their families' disagreements.

My parents fled to Great Snave shortly after, at the ages of 18 and 19, to flee their families' rage over their sudden eloping. They lived day by day, on my mother's checks and tips from the restaurant that she worked in. My father was a welder who was lucky to make $4 a day. He would tell my mother everyday that one day, "you won't have to work another day in your life. You'll be well provided for and everything will be perfect."

My father quit his job when he was 20 and began to dig around some of the desert areas surrounding Great Snave for he heard that there was oil deep down into the riches of the soil. Sounding intrigued, he hired about 10 of his best friends and they would dig every day for the next 3 years without any breaks or vacations. This began my father's tyranny and his reputation as a slave driver. His friends would usually set up camp and start digging in the wee hours of 3 AM and end at 12 AM.

My father struck oil at the age of 23. He'd lost about half of his team trying to dig up oil, for which he didn't care. He didn't care for anyone or anything that wasn't related to him, blood wise.

"Aileen! Aileen! We've got oil!" He yelled, running into his and my mother's tent, hopping and leaping for joy as he grabbed my mother's hand and pulled her into a waltz.

"Everything I promised is about to come true." He whispered to her. "Everything I said would happen is about to."

And it did. In about two months, the oil mills were up and my father was the millionaire he'd always dreamed of being. And my mother, his beautiful trophy trinket, hanging onto his arm at public events and laughing at all of his jokes, no matter how horrible they were. He hired his father's good friend, Humphrey as his butler and a few Swedish women as maids to "take off the work load" from my mother. But work is exactly what my mother wanted. She had always dreamed of having a real job, something to do and to have that was hers, but my father insisted on her staying at home. "That's what a good wife does," he would tell her and she would merely nod her pretty head, not in agreement, but in obedience.

A year later, after my father's good fortune was discovered, I was brought into this world of utter chaos. I wasn't a spoiled child though I was very pampered. My parents would settle for only the best for their little girl. My father would buy me any and everything I wanted, but, behind his back, my mother would try to make me do chores before I could actually have it.

"You must work hard for what you want, Ava." She would tell me as I sucked my teeth and proceeded onto my chores. "You don't want people assuming that you are spoiled and ungrateful."

"Let them!" My father would protest. "She's got a reason to be spoiled and ungrateful!" He would smile his crooked toothed smile and wink at me as I laughed along with him. My mother would just shake her head with a small frown on her pink lips.

My father would shower me with gifts, sometimes things that I didn't even want. But as his only child, I was the apple of his eye. His pride and joy. And it was for that same reason that my mother would try her hardest to steer me away from that life. That life of privilege. The life of a socialite.

Though my father, to others, was a selfish tyrant who belittled everyone who wasn't a good friend of his or part of his family, when he and I spent time together, we had loads of fun. We would wake up early and go get ice cream. He would take me shopping, though when I was younger, I preferred shopping for toys over shopping for clothes. And he would, sometimes, take me to his meetings with big bosses and executives.

One day, when I was 11 years old, we woke up early and he took me to a church located on the outskirts of Great Snave. Nothing but desert land surrounded the tiny, white church. All I could think of was why he brought me here. What in the world was the purpose?

When we entered, the church was almost full and a man stood at a podium, passionately speaking about God and the Holy Spirit. The man was quite handsome, I cannot lie. He had black hair, like my father's, dark, brown eyes, tan skin, a bit tanner than my father's, and a great smile. Upon entering, the man winked at my father and gave him a slight smile. My father gave him a quick wave back and we began approaching the podium, looking for a closer seat. As we got closer to the podium, I could see a boy sitting next to the preacher, a boy that looked a few years older than me. He was the spitting image of his father. Ink black hair. Very tan skin. A curved nose and thin lips. The only difference between father and son was that the boy's eyes were light grey, which made him, to me, the more easier on the eyes. Before, I had thought that boys were disgusting but this new boy had brought a whole new theory of the boy species to my being.

The Preacher finished his sermon about twenty minutes after we sat. As soon as he dismissed his church members, my father's was the first hand he shook.

"PHIL! It's been ages! Where ya been, man?" The Preacher sounded quite friendly. And he sounded as if he'd known my father for years.

"Absolutely wonderful, Rick. I heard, just yesterday, about your church. I thought I had to pay a visit to my oldest friend."

"Thank you, Thank you. I'm working on building a bigger one." Then he turned his attention to me. His eyes were breathtaking. "And who is this young lady? She can't be yours. It looks like Aileen spit her out herself. She's angelic."

My looks came from my mother, completely. I had nothing of my fathers. NOTHING. The only thing that I didn't get from her was my brunette hair, which I got from my maternal grandfather.

"Yep. She's me and Aileen's." My father responded, patting my head as if I were a puppy. I hated when he did that. "And that young man over there. He looks just like you!" My father had pointed to the young man that sat next to Rick while he gave his speech. He was playing with a few young children on the stage and seemed to be having very much fun with them. I wanted to sigh when I saw this but I controlled myself because I didn't want my father to know that I'd already gotten over the 'boys have cooties' faze. And I definitely didn't want him to know that I was already crushing on the Preacher's son.

"NICK!" The Preacher called out to the young man.

He looked up at his father, quickly said a 'goodbye' to the children and darted towards the three of us. Upon arriving, the preacher slapped his hand onto the young man's shoulder.

"This, here, is Nicholas. My son."

The man smiled down at his son in pure admiration. I stared at Nicholas in pure adoration.

"Hello, son. I'm Phil LaGrange." My father reached his hand out to Nicholas to shake his. Nicholas grabbed his hand quickly and shook it with confidence.

"Wow! THE Phil LaGrange? The famous oil tycoon?"

My father nodded in response.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." It was absolutely adorable how his voice cracked when he spoke. Ah, the beauty of adolescence.

"He's slated to take over the church when I retire. I have all the confidence in the world in this boy." Nicholas smiled his handsome smile as his father jovially slapped his shoulder again.

"We also want to build an orphanage next to the church for children who have come from less fortunate homes." Nicholas added with exuberance, those beautiful grey eyes glowing.

My father nodded, impressed. Then, Nicholas looked at me. And I could have sworn my heart skipped a beat. Was this really what having a crush on someone felt like?

"Hi!" He said with a big smile on his face, showing off his pearly white teeth, and sticking his hand out. "Nicholas Wolfwood."

"Um… Ava LaGrange." I said, smiling back nervously and shaking his hand with mine.

"Phil, I'd like to speak with you privately." Rick told my father, placing his hand upon my father's back.

My father nodded. "Sure. What is it?"

Rick made this face at my father to let him know that it was a private matter only. A look that disturbed me to some degree. But I brushed it off. Why should I be worried about grownups business anyways? I was 11!

They walked off into a room on the side of the church, leaving me and Nicholas behind.

"So…" He said, putting his hands in his pockets and staring at me with those hypnotizing grey eyes. "What's it like being the daughter of an oil tycoon?"

I shrugged, not really wanting to answer the question because I'm asked that everywhere I go. "It's okay. It's not really what it's cracked up to be though." I said as he walked me to a seat and we sat down. "What's it like to be the son of a priest?" I fired back, swinging my leg onto the other.

"Well…" He sighed, crossing his legs (in a manly manner) and patting his suit for something. "Damn, I left my cigarettes at home." He mumbled to himself, though I could hear what he said, clearly. This shocked me. Flabbergasted me. How could a man of the cloth, not only curse in a church, but smoke? Especially at only 13! I think he realized the way I was looking at him because he chuckled as soon as he caught a glimpse of me.

"You're really pretty." He said, leaning his elbow against the back of his seat and laying his head on his fist. I KNEW that I blushed when he said this. I could feel the heat in my cheeks. When he said it, I looked at my hands in my lap and let my hair fall down my face. It was a trick that I always did to hide my blushing.

"But, yeah, I know I do things that wouldn't normally be done by a preacher's son, but," He shrugged. "What can you do, huh?"

I smiled at him and pushed my hair behind my ears, ready to start a real conversation so I could get to know him better. "So, you want to build an orphanage?"

"I hate to see children suffer. I hate to see children in pain. I hate to see children deprived of love. So why not build an orphanage to accompany the church? It'll provide children with everything that their missing at home."

"I think it's a great idea." I added, watching the children play on the stage.

"You do, huh?"

I turned my head from the children to look at him, finding that he'd been staring at me the whole time. I swallowed the nothing in my throat and blinked a couple of times, blankly. "Yeah." I nodded, getting a bit nervous from the way he stared. I don't know why I was nervous because I enjoyed every moment. "I think it's wonderful."

"Thanks." He said, looking at the children in pure sympathy. "Dad's not too fond of the idea yet but hopefully, he'll turn around."

"My father wouldn't like the idea either." I blurted, not completely realizing that I was about to spill my guts out to someone I'd just met.

He tore his eyes away from the children to look back at me. "How come?"

I sighed, starting to wring my wrists. "He's not really…..a people person." I shrugged and looked back at him to find him smiling. "It really bothers me. He refuses to give back and -" I blushed, catching on the fact that I was complaining about my father to a complete stranger. "Ha! Look at me! I'm about to go on and on about my personal problems." I put on a pretty smile but I was quite embarrassed, really.

"No, no. It's okay. I'd listen to you all day long if I could." He placed his quite large, tan hand upon my small, pale hand, but the moment was, unfortunately, broken.

"NICHOLAS! NICHOLAS!" The children ran to us and started grabbing Nicholas by his hands and shouting at him to come play with them. "Come on! Robert says that he can beat you at wrestling! You have to prove him wrong!"

He laughed. "Oh, really! Let's go prove him wrong!" He responded with much excitement. Before being tugged away by the kids, we exchanged one last smile with each other. A moment that I'll never forget. I sighed and whispered to myself as I watched him wrestle with the children around him. "Nicholas Wolfwood." I whispered to myself, loving the way his name sounded against my tongue.

"Ava, it's time to go." My father was standing behind me with Rick, smiles on both of their faces. Whatever transpired between them, I had no idea - at the time. But I knew it couldn't have been good.

I immediately looked at Nicholas, who was too busy wrestling to hear what my father had said.

"We'll be back, honey. Trust me." He said, putting his hand on my back and winking at Rick, though he tried to be slick about it. My brows knitted at their peculiar behavior, but I left it alone. I was too busy thinking about when the next time I was going to see Rick's handsome son again.

"When? Will it be soon?" I was determined to see him again. I was somewhat smitten with the young Nicholas Wolfwood. He was attractive, very smart, a somewhat bad boy, and loved children. What more could you ask for?

"Heh, heh, heh. Looks like my Ava's taken a liking to your Nicholas." My father joked, squeezing my shoulders.

"Shutup, dad. Don't be silly." I shot up with my hands in tight fists. He was making fun of me now. He was making fun of the fact that I did like Nicholas.

"Oh, sweetheart. We'll be back soon. I promise." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug.

"Really?" My frown turned into a smile.

"Mhm." My father nodded, giving me a grande smile.

Nicholas walked over to us, seeing that we were about to leave. "So you're leaving, huh?"

"Yeah, were going to hit the road, Nicholas. It was a pleasure meeting you." My father reached his hand out for a goodbye handshake. Nicholas shook it quickly, then grabbed my hand.

"It was definitely a pleasure meeting you." He leaned down and kissed my hand. This time, I couldn't hide the blush. I laughed it off to maybe hide some suspicion.

"Likewise." I responded.