"What's on your mind, chica?" Ava asks.

Her voice is surprisingly serious and quiet. I almost miss her question over the din of the outdoor patio at Granville and the motorcycle brigade roaring along Beverly Boulevard.

"Hmmm?" I stop stirring the ice cubes in my lemonade with what's fast becoming a soggy paper straw and glance across the table, but I avoid meeting her gaze. "What makes you think I have anything on my mind?"

She inches her sunglasses down her nose and narrows her eyes. "Because I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. For a woman who's in the honeymoon phase of a relationship, you sure seem preoccupied about something. Based on your face and your annoyed sighs, it isn't lust and butterflies."

She isn't wrong. Plus, she does know me inside out and backwards, and dodging the question is futile. I try anyway.

"Book stuff."

"Lies." She tosses a fry at me. It lands on my arm and leaves dots of oil and salt on my skin when it slides down to the table. "Are you having second thoughts about Phoenix now that you've done the deed again and it's out of your system?"

"How do you know we--"

"Please. I'd have questions about what's taking so long if you hadn't. This isn't your first rodeo together, even if he still gives me clown bullfighter vibes. Respectfully."

I had a hunch the ceasefire last weekend was too good to last. "You seemed okay with him in Vegas?"

"I was siding with your sex life in Vegas, and not with him. So?"

"What?"

She holds up another fry. I pull my arm off the table and shrink back in my chair, but she doesn't send this one sailing in my direction. "Was the sex a letdown after building it up in your imagination?"

"Not at all."

It's the truth, but Ava harping on this doesn't help my mental clarity. My mind is already threatening mutiny, at the ready to launch itself back into last weekend on a moment's notice, which will only make me wish I could physically return to that time in every way. Whatever this foreboding feeling I've been dealing with since boarding the flight home is, it's no match for what my body remembers.

"What are you stewing over, then?"

"Respectfully," I begin, enunciating each syllable of the word so she can't miss the undertone, "what makes you think I'm stewing?"

"Your mood, your energy, and your aura." Her own undertone is smug and matter-of-fact.

"You read auras now? Do your clients know, or is it a new service you charge extra for?"

She glances up at the sky and makes a show of appearing put out. I'm tempted to ask if she's channeling divine energy from above in addition to reading my aura, but she replies before I can.

"Don't change the subject, and don't get all sarcastic with me. That's my thing."

"I learned from the best."

Ava gives me a disbelieving look and pushes her sunglasses back up her nose. "The long-distance relationship sure has you moody. Can you make it through the day without killing someone, or do I need to put you on a plane to Vegas for some more vitamin D?"

"You did not just say that."

"Oh, but I did. Have you listened to yourself today?"

She sits back in her chair, both of her eyebrows arched. Guilt floods through me almost instantly, because yes, I am moody, and she's bearing the brunt of it. She shouldn't have to. This time when I speak, I do my best to paste a brighter expression on my face and lighten my tone.

"I'm not getting on a plane to go anywhere. We have Torin and Nash's show in Huntington Beach tomorrow, remember? And then you're going to have the night you should have had last weekend."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. There are no after-show plans yet." Ava's mouth turns up at the corners, though, which means the same thought has crossed her mind. Maybe I can distract her with this and segue to something less triggering to me.

"Let's drive there separately, just in case," I suggest. "You never know where the night will take you, although it had better be back to your place with Nash in tow if those guys aren't staying somewhere decent."

"We weren't already driving separately? I thought you'd be in Laguna with Phoenix and arriving with him."

I say a silent goodbye to my plans for diverting her attention and switching topics. It was nice for the millisecond it lasted.

"He can't make it here this weekend, but it's probably better for keeping any kind of truce with Torin."

"Finally. That, right there, is what you're so bothered about." She uncrosses her arms and straightens up in her chair, which is a clear sign I'm in trouble. It's time to deflect.

"I'm bothered because I've barely written five usable pages since getting back on Monday. Calling myself a novelist is laughable at this point."

"Uh-huh. You aren't writing because your mind is occupied by something else, and that something is unquestionably Phoenix. Did he say what he's doing instead, or is he chickening out about facing Torin again?"

"He isn't chickening out. He has to work."

"And you decided not to go there to see him when he's off for the night?"

Ava pressing the issue is another warning that she's in interrogation mode. This needs my immediate interception before it gets out of hand.

"I told Torin I'd come to his show, and I'm looking forward to it. I'm not going to bail on my friends." There. She can't argue with loyalty, keeping my word about being there to support Torin, and not canceling my plans.

It turns out she can, because she's already spotted the loophole. "You could go to the show on Saturday and then drive there after with no traffic at that time of night. Or Phoenix could fly you there Sunday morning and you could stay for a few days and write while he works. He hasn't offered to do that?"

"It would involve talking to him and arranging it, so no."

I didn't mean for that to slip out, but Ava has an energetic knack for getting me to divulge things I don't intend to. If she ever wants to exit public relations, I'm certain she could land a job with the FBI or CIA, or start a career as a private investigator. Torin and I have told her this countless times since college.

The lack of communication between Phoenix and me is out there for her to mull over and voice her opinion on now, though, so maybe she'll talk sense into me and insist I'm making something out of nothing. His texts and calls likely tapered off this week because he's working long hours, and not for any other reason. It's temporary.

Ava purses her lips and studies me for what feels like an eternity. Then she calmly picks up her iced tea, takes a sip, and returns the glass to the table.

"If you're telling me he pumped and dumped, then I may be the one going to Vegas on Sunday and showing up at his door. Have you heard from him since getting home?"

"I have. I'm probably overthinking and reading into something that isn't there."

"Let me be the judge of that. When did you last hear from him?"

"Monday night."

"Monday." A muscle twitches in Ava's jaw. "So four days ago."

"It was after midnight when I think about it, so technically Tuesday morning. And he really should have been sleeping then, since he told me he had an early morning and would be pulling long days all week and weekend. I think they're trying to wrap things up, which means he can leave Vegas soon and be back in Laguna full time."

Or I assume that's what it means. It's hard to say, considering we've barely talked to each other this week and what Torin told me about how long Phoenix has been in Vegas for.

"Did he send the last message or did you?"

"I did. I sent a text on Tuesday afternoon to ask if I left a necklace at his place, and he hasn't answered yet."

"Have you tried calling him?"

"Yes," I admit. "It went straight to voicemail."

"May I try calling him?" Although Ava sounds relaxed and phrases this as a question, we're both aware it's a thinly veiled threat.

"Absolutely not. Forget I mentioned it."

"It's too late for that."

"I'm sure he's busy. You know how filming goes, and it's only been a few days. Besides, I need to concentrate on finishing the draft of my book. I mentioned having deadlines to him, so he could also be letting me focus."

The side-eye coming from across the table stops me from saying anything else.

"I agree you need to focus on writing, but you will not make excuses for him. It takes two seconds to check in by text, especially when you've just reached that level of intimacy for the first time since you last dated. He should know better. I also have a crazy schedule this week, and a client with the emotional maturity of a fifteen-year-old causing scenes all over social media and starting TikTok wars and rap battles that aren't a good look, but I'm having lunch with you right now."

"Thank you for having lunch today. I love and appreciate you for making time for me."

I do love and appreciate her, but telling her this is also an attempt to defuse what I've started. She's visibly riled up on my behalf, which means there's a chance she'll call or text Phoenix and let him have it anyway.

"If you do, then promise me you'll walk away if he breadcrumbs you now that he's physically gratified. It would be one thing if he'd presented it as a hookup situation only. He doesn't get to lead you on after nearly destroying you once before. Not with me as your best friend."

My phone chimes right as she finishes her sentence. The message that pops up on my screen is from Phoenix. Talk about timing.

I'm so sorry for not answering you before today. The reception is hit or miss where I am and I didn't see your last text until now. Your necklace is at my place. I'll bring it to you when I see you, which will be the second I'm done here, I promise. How's the writing going? Love you and miss you.

Ava probably can't see my screen from where she is, but I feel her eyes boring holes into my head as I read the message a couple of times. She clears her throat when I keep my head angled down and don't say anything.

"Let me guess. He finally broke his silence and you're reading a text from him?" She doesn't sound impressed, but I don't expect her to be.

"Yup. I feel foolish now."

"You shouldn't. If anything, take it as a sign that you aren't on the same page with communication and say something about it, then observe. If it becomes a pattern, choose yourself and move on before you're in any deeper."

"I don't think it will be a pattern. He said something about the reception where he's working."

Ava's scowl tells me this was the wrong detail to disclose before she even replies.

"Is he working from the moon?"

"Nevada is the desert," I remind her. "He could have been somewhere far outside of Vegas, which might as well be the moon. I'll give him grace this time."

"You've given him more grace in his lifetime than ten people deserve."

"That's fair," I admit. "He knows it, though."

It's Ava's turn to sigh. "Does he?"

She lets the question hang in the air. My brain flails to grasp at mental straws that, in the end, give me nothing to respond with. In the absence of a good defense, I spear a tomato from my salad and focus on chewing it.

Ava speaks again. "Actions over words, Del. You know this. Promise me he gets one chance and that's it, because it's one too many chances with the history you two have. Believe someone when they show you who they are. This isn't his first or even second strike, and I can't watch you disintegrate into a ghost of yourself again."

She removes her sunglasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. One glimpse at her eyes haunts me. As much as I went through after the first time with Phoenix, it wasn't only me. Ava did, too, as she stuck by my side and pulled me back from the precipice I teetered on for months. While she may have encouraged me to see him for one weekend in the interest of finally finding closure, she didn't sign up for another round of me diving right in and it ending in more heartbreak.

"I promise this is all. Pinky swear. I won't put you or me through that."

I hold out my pinky finger and look at her. She hooks her finger with mine, looking somber. Ten seconds later, she smiles and chucks another fry at me.

"Lord help him if he botches this, even if it's self-sabotage, because he doesn't know what he's up against when I'm not holding back for your sake. He'll relocate to Siberia before he sets foot in southern California again."

I have no reason to believe she's exaggerating.

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

I don't even know what to think about Phoenix these days. Sincere? Shady? And then there's Del. Is she a chronic overthinker, or is she justified based on what she knows, the situation, and past experience with Phoenix? Time will tell.