Chapter 12 #2
A dry chuckle escapes my throat. “What did Ava tell you?” I ask, hoping I hide my nerves behind what I hope comes across as light and teasing.
“Basically nothing. That’s why I’m calling you.”
“Sorry, Ru-Ru. You’re not going to get anything from me either.” I imagine her eyes rolling, but I don’t know what else to tell her before talking to Ava.
Before she can ask me more about it, I change the subject, figuring now could be my opportunity to talk to Jack. “By the way, is your boyfriend there? I need to talk to him about—” I pause, “work.”
“Work?” Rumi repeats, but she says the word as if she’s never heard it before.
“Yeah, he’s right here, but don’t think you and Ava can keep hiding whatever it is you two are keeping a secret from us.
You’re lucky you’re dealing with me and not Emerson.
You know how she is,” she adds after a moment, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
Pretending to be Ava’s partner? Easy. I’ve been wanting that title for months now. There will be no pretending about it for me.
But lying to our friends?
Rumi is already on to us, which means so is Emerson—and she’s the queen of calling people out the second she smells bullshit.
It’s not that I think they don’t want us together—Rumi makes it sound like she’s been rooting for it since day one—but I wish we could have gone about this the right way.
That I had the balls to tell Ava how I felt months ago, even with the risk that she wouldn't want anything more than our friends-with-benefits arrangement, and that we really have been together all this time.
And that I asked her to marry me the way she deserved, when the time was right.
“What?” Jack’s gruff voice cuts through my thoughts.
I shake my head, coming back to the moment. “Did you tell Rumi about what we talked about on Saturday?”
“Are you seriously asking me if I spent my two days off with my girlfriend and my daughter talking about you and your shit?”
“No, I—” but I can’t finish my apology.
“One of those days being Valentine’s Day?”
I exhale. “So you didn’t tell her about me wanting to tell Ava how I feel about her?”
Jack grunts in response, and I take it as my answer.
Clearing my throat, I ask carefully, “Is Rumi still with you?”
“She went to put Evee down for her nap. Why?”
Here goes nothing. “Turns out, Ava does have feelings for me.”
A moment of silence, and my weight shifts from one foot to the other, the hardwood of my kitchen floor creaking under me.
“Really?” Jack asks,
I nod, and then remember he can’t see me. “Yeah, so we’ve decided to make things official.”
He hums, and I think it’s his version of approval. “Congrats, Sonny.” Even through his bored tone, I can hear the slight twinge of happiness.
We all pretend not to know the guy is a big softie behind his grumpy exterior.
“But please don’t tell Rumi,” I say, quickly adding, “Not yet.” Before he can ask why, I explain that Ava and I have news that we wanted to share with everyone the next time we’re all together.
He doesn’t sound too pleased to be hiding something from his girlfriend, but when I remind him that we’re all meeting for dinner to talk about our upcoming Vegas trip in just five days, he reluctantly agrees.
Just as I hang up the phone, there’s a knock on my door.
Covering the simmering pasta, I’m about to set my wooden spoon down to answer it when I hear the familiar beeping of the digital keypad, the lock slowly clicking before the front door opens.
“Hello?” Ava calls out, and I can hear the slight nervousness in her voice.
And that’s when I realize I’m nervous too, despite the warmth in my stomach at how natural it felt to hear her let herself in, finding me in the kitchen waiting for her after a long day, ready to hear all about it.
“We’re here.” The door closes just as the two sisters come into view.
Ava has a bottle of wine while Georgie is holding a paper bag with the familiar Hey Honey’s logo on it. The tips of their noses are red from the cold, and there are snowflakes sprinkled throughout their hair.
I immediately close the distance between us all, grabbing everything in their hands and setting it all on the counter before taking their coats they’re pulling off.
“Good to see you, love,” I say, my pet name for Ava slipping out seamlessly, and I like the excuse of our fake relationship to use it rather than stopping myself from how instinctual it feels to do.
Ava gives me a smirk followed by a slight shake of her head as if she can see right through me.
She runs her hands through her long, auburn hair, the usual ringlets blown out into bigger curls, the red strands shiny and smooth as she flips it over her shoulder.
Her gaze falls to her sister standing next to her, and that’s when I realize I’ve been staring at her like a lovestruck moron. “And good to see you, Georgie.”
She gives me a polite smile as she tugs the sleeves of her long-sleeved shirt over her hands. Her dark blonde hair is twisted back in a clip, and I can tell she feels a little out of her comfort zone with the way her eyes dart around the room.
“Something smells good,” Ava says, breaking the silence that fell over the three of us.
“Pasta is ready, and the garlic bread just needs to cool.” I gesture for them to each have a seat at my kitchen counter, pulling out two wine glasses for Ava and me and a soda out of my fridge for Georgie.
I can’t help but notice the way Ava looks around my kitchen, the counters cluttered and the sink filled with dirty dishes. “Can I help you clean up?” she asks, and I have to hide my confusion with her question.
“Maybe after we eat? You must be hungry.” Ava worked a full shift while Georgie was at school, then picked her up and ran a few errands before coming straight here. I can’t imagine she had much time to get a full meal in.
Dinner also gives Georgie an opportunity to start getting more comfortable both with me and the house she is technically supposed to be living in soon.
Another detail we have to go over tonight.
As Georgie sits, she places her elbow on the table and balances her chin in her palm. “Are those vinyls?" she asks, nodding toward the corner of my living room where my record player sits on a shelf filled to the brim.
“They are,” I say with a smile. Starting when I was twelve, I remember saving up every dollar from lawnmowing and shoveling just so I could spend it at the record store. “I started collecting them when I was about your age.”
“Cool,” Georgie says in that bored way teenagers do, but her eyes stay glued to the shelf.
I use it as my in.
“I used to spend hours walking the aisles of the record store in my hometown, going through the crates, and wishing I had enough time to look at each one.” The memories flood me all at once, something I haven’t thought about in years.
My dad would always be so patient with me while I scoured through the collection, never rushing me. And then, he would match my excitement about whichever one I ended up buying, listening to it with me from front to back the moment we got home.
I’ve always loved how every album has its own story—still do—and I love how now, each one I brought home became like a timestamp of that time of my life.
Music became something that belonged to me, and only me. I didn’t have to share with my brothers. They could have all my time and energy, but music? That was mine.
Mine and my dad’s.
“I’ve never been to a record store.” Georgie’s voice is quiet, like she’s talking to herself.
“Maybe we could go sometime. There’s a new one downtown I’ve been meaning to stop by,” I offer, hoping it doesn’t sound like I’m trying too hard, but I don’t want to miss this opportunity.
Ava finally tears her gaze from my sink to look between her sister and me, and I notice the rigidness in her body lessens as she glances between us and the vinyls.
Georgie turns to me, and you would think I just offered her the world on a silver platter. “I’d like that,” she says, her hazel eyes shining, so similar to Ava’s.
And just like Ava’s, I don’t think there’s much I wouldn’t do to keep those eyes bright.
I start plating two servings of pasta, placing a piece of garlic bread on each one, when I notice out of the corner of my eye Ava leaning toward Georgie from where she sits next to her. Cupping her hands around Georgie’s ear, I pretend not to notice the two of them as I grab them each a fork.
“I’m sure he’ll let you look at them if you ask,” Ava whispers.
“Ava!” Georgie swats her older sister’s shoulder. “Stop,” she says, but she makes the one-syllable word sound like it has two while also adding an “uh” sound after the “p”.
“I’m just saying,” Ava says, holding her hands up in surrender. Her eyes skate to me, and she widens them before she darts them to Georgie and back at me.
“Do you want to look at them?” I ask Georgie, getting Ava’s hint.
Georgie’s eyes light up when she looks at me. “Can I?”
“Of course.” I set the two plates of food down, one in front of Ava and one in front of Georgie. “But food first.”
Georgie rolls her eyes. “No fun, just like my sister,” she mutters, but there’s a smile on her face as she takes the fork I hold out to her and shovels a huge bite of pasta into her mouth.
I hold out a fork to Ava, who doesn't say anything as she takes it—instead, twirling the noodles and bringing her own bite to her mouth.
And for some reason, warmth blooms in my chest, that feeling of impending doom dissipating for the first time all day.
Because it feels like I just did something right.