Chapter 11

There is an old theory that reality is different for every person. That life isn't much more than a figment of your imagination and dying is waking up from a vivid dream. I'd never really paid much mind to it. In the past I hadn't had much reason to hope my life wasn't real. Sure, it had been a little untraditional in parts, but always good. I had been grateful for my family.

What do you do when you are raised to believe family is the secret to happiness, then your family slams the door in your face? All the love, loyalty, and acceptance that once coated your world and lessened the harsh blows of life get stripped away like old wallpaper? I couldn't tell you. Thinking about it too much hurts. The answer isn't going to be any better.

I still remember my Grandma. Not in big chunks – she died when I was seven. What I can remember always makes me smile. In my favorite memory, I was sitting in the back yard playing dolls while she gardened. My dolls were having an argument and I was getting carried away, so I didn't notice when she sat next to me. I tried to hide the dolls, embarrassed by my silly game. She told me my imagination was my best friend and asked to join me. I miss my Grandma.

Six years later I lost my Grandpa – or Papa. Papa was a gentle man. He was wrecked by the death of his oldest son, then his wife. On the nights when he drank a little too much, he would tell me how much he could see of his lost family in me. 'Your my lifeline, honey.' or 'Be careful sweetie, I need you yet,'. He would say. If I asked about my parents, he would tell me how my dad was a good boy, just like Nathan. 'You and Nate need to look after each other.'. I miss my Papa too.

All over the world there are people who testify that being without family isn't so bad. Maybe I can be one of those people one day. But today is not that day.

"Avie,"

The couch dipped next to me. I must be home. How did I get home, again? Vaguely I can remember stopping in my office and seeing Tom looking concerned but that's all. Michaela looks so scared, staring at me like I'm broken. I don't want to be broken. My heart may be shattered, but that doesn't mean I have to be. Vivienne isn't winning.

"I'm alright." I tell her with a decisive nod. "I just want to take a shower, get out of my work clothes and girls night is on."

"You got it. Braxton Sullivan is in your room." Her voice was low, skepticism clear on her face.

Braxton. Right. Him first, then shower, then Michaela. Goal setting is good for progress, I reminded myself.

"Hey, thanks for bringing me home."

Leaning in the door way, I watch him as he scanned my room before looking at me.

"I want to look after you." He explained, waving me to come towards him.

More than willing to do so, I ambled over to his spot on the bed, where he sat me on his lap. Resting my head against his collar I took a deep breath. His hands rubbed circles into my back, much like he did on Saturday night.

"You're doing a great job."

"Nathan mentioned you had moved out in passing. I had no idea it was due to bad blood."

I flinched. I wasn't ready to talk about it now.

"If my wife were psychotic I wouldn't mention it either. Can we talk about something else please?"

"As much as I'd love to sit here with you, I have meetings this afternoon that I can't rescheduled."

With a sigh I managed to pry myself off him. If it were up to me I would have spent the afternoon licking my wounds in that exact spot, but that's what you get when your seat is running a successful company. I shouldn't complain. If it weren't for his success I would be unemployed.

As I began rummaging for my favorite sweats, I felt his eyes on me. Heating the back of my neck and cheeks. Much too nervous to turn around, I began searching for a reliable hoodie for the evening. I was feeling fragile this afternoon – raw. Whether it would be worst if he was looking with concern, pity, or lust, I didn't know. It was easier to play it safe.

"Ava," He sighed, his arm turning me to face him. "Are you going to be okay?"

The way he said it was pointed. He was referring to more than todays events. In a normal situation this would have been cause enough for a blush to creep on my cheeks, but proper responses seemed to be avoiding me.

"I already am, Braxton."

He continued to stare. Or maybe evaluate was a better word to describe the way he was looking at me. Conjuring a fake tooth-filled smile and a shrug of the shoulders, I passed. After soft kiss on the forehead and a promise to call, he left.

By my logic, I had about two minutes to get in the shower before Michaela would demand some kind of answer. She would watch him leave, stalk him through the peep hole and then the window, before she came for me. Undoubtedly she would have a full report and analysis of Braxton based on body language already done, citing her three psych classes for reference. I wouldn't be surprised if after my shower she had a presentation ready to accompany her lecture. She's going to have a fit when I tell her what happened last night.

Showering didn't take long. It was my second one in a day, but the soothing water was something I needed. The heat of it warmed the chill in my bones. After ten minutes I was done and dressed in my comfort clothes, ready to blob and talk smack with my best friend.

"Are you telling me that you swiped your V-card with BRAXTON FUCKING SULLIVAN?!" She all but screeched.

I had expected to get told off for not ringing her immediately after. Maybe a giggle or two. I hadn't expect this almost-hysteria being displayed. When I came out of the bathroom, Michaela was bouncing. For some reason I cut her off and 'Mickle, I had sex with Braxton last night' kind of... fell out of my mouth. She had stilled so rapidly I thought she may have gone into shock. Assuming she was processing, I lead her to the couch and hugged my knees while I waited.

"We went out for dinner last night and it just happened." I explained.

"Dinner?! I didn't know you were seeing each other, let alone sleeping together!" As I said. Hysteria.

"That's 'cause we aren't doing either, Mick."

"So you aren't dating or having sex?"

"Nope."

"But you went on a date and had sex?"

"Yup."

"I'm confused."

The rest of the night went the way I thought it would after that. We had a uncomfortably in-depth discussion about the previous night, followed by a debriefing of Braxtons body language and what it meant. I still remembered how poor a friend I had been to her a while back, so I indulged every tidbit she came up with. She wanted to set me up a bunch of outfits, so I let her. It was a rare treat to find a friend like my Mickle and I owed it to her to return the favor. She loved this stuff.

We ate ice cream for dinner and potato chips for dessert. We ragged out Vivienne till we were blue in the face and sung along to every stupid song on the radio we could find. We painted our nails and put horribly colour face masks on. When Stevie got home we dedicated half an hour to convincing him it would be beneficial to him if we plucked his eyebrows. Then we laughed until we cried at his reaction to plucking.

Stevie pulled out his guitar and we sang some more. We ate too much popcorn and watched a scary movie. We played board games and cards. We did everything we could think of, and when I fell into bed later that night it was hard not to smile. Friends like mine really are rare to find.