14. Ava
FOURTEEN
AVA
I know what you’re thinking. I couldn’t possibly have just offered to marry Tyler Warren. I hate him. I’ve spent the last two years lamenting how he’s a narcissist who cares about no one but himself. Agreeing— no, proposing —to be his wife for the next year, let alone sixteen, is insane.
But hear me out.
I might have been a teeny bit wrong about him. Not completely, because I still think he’s a womanizer who stood me up two years ago in favor of a one-night stand. Something I made clear I wasn’t interested in.
But he’s not only a womanizer. Is any person really only anything?
God, I hope not. If so, then I have no idea who I am. For so long, I was nothing more than the girl who provided blood and body parts to keep her sister alive. If that’s all I was, that would be pretty pathetic.
Although I don’t regret a single donation, I’ve got to be more than that. Right?
Maybe this is my shot. My chance to be someone else.
It’s clearly the most out of character thing I’ve ever done. Or it’s the most in character. Dedicating my life to someone else’s happiness. I suppose maybe I am still the same person I always was.
But it’s for three kids who need me. War isn’t at risk of losing Brayden and Scarlett. They’re safe here. But Josie? Without War proving that she has a stable, loving home—that it is in her best interest to stay with him—she’ll be at risk of losing the first family she’s ever had.
I refuse to let that girl lose anything else.
I may be the best chance she has of staying in this house.
I’m not saying I’m perfect, and if anyone found out my secret, I’d probably be the last person they’d deem worthy of raising a kid.
Still, I truly believe this is the right thing to do.
I’ll always put those kids first. They’ll be safe and happy and loved. That should be enough, right?
Assessing myself in War’s bathroom mirror, I make peace with my decision and glance at the clothes I dropped onto the counter.
Putting them on will make it more real. His clothes. His house. His bed.
And I’ll be his wife.
Not in the biblical way, of course. Just in the we’re going to raise kids together and build a beautiful life for them and …holy shit, I’m going to be married to Tyler Warren.
Spiraling, I pick up my phone and text my sister.
Me: It’s late, I know. I should have texted earlier. It’s after midnight here, though, so Merry Christmas. I have some pretty unexpected news and I’m not even sure how I feel about it, but…
Me: I’m getting married!
Me: Okay, deep breaths. It’s not how you think. We’re doing it for Josie. Remember that guy I told you about a couple of years ago? The one who stood me up and
Having no interest in reliving all the turmoil that’s festered between us, I delete the message.
Let’s try this again.
Me: I’m marrying Tyler Warren. He’s a hockey player.
I’ve told you about him before, remember?
He’s adopting Josie. It’s not love in the traditional sense, but I love Josie and he does too.
And I really think this is my purpose. Why I found myself in Boston.
For her. And her sister. I just met Scarlett, and I’m already in love with her.
Tyler is also the guardian of a teenager, Brayden.
He seems like a good kid. It will take time for them to be comfortable with me, but I’m going all-in.
You always said nothing worth doing is worth doing halfway.
I wish you were here. I wish we could wake up together tomorrow, and I wish you could meet all of them. Even Tyler.
Me: I’ll text you tomorrow. I love you.
The weight of the night hits now that I’ve texted her. I always work out my feelings through our conversations. My messages are as therapeutic as diary entries.
A gentle knock sounds on the door, startling me. “You okay?”
“Yup.” I set my phone down and scan the room, garnering the last of my energy. “Be right out.”
No more dilly-dallying. Morning will come soon, and with a house filled with kids on Christmas, I can only imagine the energy I’ll need.
I pick up the T-shirt and immediately roll my eyes.
Of course he picked a Bolts shirt emblazoned with Warren and a big 7 on the back.
Despite my better judgment, I slip it on.
I can’t sleep in my dress, and I’m too tired to argue with him, which is exactly what would happen if I asked for a different shirt.
With a quick glance at my reflection, I stalk out of the bathroom.
“Is it a hockey player thing only, or do all guys like seeing their name on a woman’s back? ”
Tyler is already beneath the covers—thank god; I couldn’t handle another minute of awkwardly staring at one another before getting into bed—and as I shuffle to the empty side, he blinks at me, looking shell-shocked. Though he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, no words come out.
“Okay,” I say, frowning at his lack of response.
“Guess it wasn’t intentional.” Slipping into bed, I adjust the sheet and comforter and swallow back a moan at how comfortable the mattress is.
“I can’t imagine you’d be eager to see me, of all people, wearing your last name.
It’s just that Sara and Lennox are always going on about how much the guys love seeing the girls in their jerseys.
It’s a whole thing for them. But then again, they’re all kind of… kinky?” I shrug.
Yeah, that’s how I’d categorize them. They’re also oversharers, which is apparently what I am when I’m nervous, because did I really just say the word kinky while climbing into bed beside Tyler Warren?
Also, how come every time I say his name in my head it’s a whole thing. Tyler Warren? He’s like a god in my mind. Untouchable. I’m so embarrassing.
“Sorry, I’m being awkward. Just go to sleep. I swear I’ll be more normal in the morning.”
Pulling the comforter all the way up to my chin, I turn toward the door, my back to him, and pray for sleep to take me. Or a black hole. Either would be acceptable right about now.
War shifts, causing the bed to dip, and then he’s closer. Too close, since the air that escapes him when he lets out a heavy sigh tickles the back of my neck. “I didn’t actually get to see the back of the shirt on you. May I?”
I peer over my shoulder and find him motioning to the covers. Without a word, I nod. If I speak now, I’ll blurt out something else ridiculous.
He gently pulls the covers down, the move far too charged. I hold my breath, certain that if I don’t, the tension in the room will drown me.
Every syllable he speaks in that gravelly tone vibrates through me. “I can’t speak for all men, but yeah, I really like seeing you wearing my number.” He tugs the covers up again and shifts back, taking his heat with him. “I just didn’t expect you to wear it without pants.”
My heart all but stops when realization dawns. Crap. I walked out of the bathroom without putting on the sweats he gave me. “Uh, I?—”
War chuckles. “Go to bed, wifey. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
I wake to the sound of giggles and a loud, drawn-out “ Tyler !”
“You know the rules. Knock before entering.” This voice is deeper, groggy.
“But it’s Christmas, Bray. Our first Christmas as a family. We need to wake him up. Let’s jump on the bed.”
I’m still fighting to open my eyes, confused about where I am, when the door swings open and the voices grow louder. “It’s Ava! Brayden, it’s Ava.”
“I can see that,” he grumbles.
Finally, I force my eyes open and blink into the dim light until the voices become people in front of me.
Brayden is holding Scarlett, who is wiggling against his chest, anxious to get down. Josie is bounding toward me, wearing the biggest smile.
Finally, memories from last night return, and it hits me. I slept over. I’m in Tyler Warren’s bed.
Holy shit, I’m in War’s bed.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs in my ear, hugging me to his chest.
My heart thumps wildly now that I notice the way he’s wrapped around me, his arms cradling me, his face buried in my hair, his head on my freaking pillow.
“Santa granted my wish. Ava is still here,” Josie squeals as she jumps onto the bed.
Lungs seizing, I roll out of War’s arms.
This is not good.
Once I’ve put a little distance between us, I dart a look at Brayden again. While Josie may think this is just a fun sleepover, it’s clear from the teenager’s amused face that he knows what adults normally do during overnight visits.
“Merry Christmas, love bug,” I say to Josie, breathing through my panic.
I open my arms wide and catch her as she catapults into them.
I inhale the fragrance of her shampoo and kiss her head, finally beginning to find my bearings.
This is just the reminder I need. I’m here for her. For them. The kids, that is.
“What am I? Yesterday’s news?” War shifts, wearing a pout.
Josie launches herself into his arms next. “You told me you got me the best present ever, and you weren’t lying. Is she staying all day?”
War chuckles now, his smile wide. “Yeah, I think so.” He nods to Brayden. “How’d you sleep?”
Brayden settles a still squirming Scarlett on the floor.
She’s barely touched the ground before she’s running toward the bed and fisting the covers, trying to pull herself up.
I reach down for the little blondie and help her up.
Once she’s got her knees on the mattress, she crawls right up my body and sits on my chest, her full diaper making a plopping sound.
“Pwetty.” She smacks her warm, slightly sticky palms against my cheeks. Her rosy cheeks, the crusties in her eyes, and the blond wisps falling into her face do nothing to hide just how perfect this little girl is.
Brayden cringes. “Sorry, I didn’t change her diaper.”
With a smile at him, I shake my head. “No worries. I can do it. Good morning, Scarlett.” I rub a hand over her head, relishing the feel of her silky baby hair. “And yes, you are very pretty.”
She pats her chest and smiles. “Pwetty.”