Chapter 5
5
AVERY
Between back-to-school shopping, unpacking years of our lives into a new home, preparing to open a business, and trying like hell to ignore the side-eye Oliver gives me every time we see each other outside, it’s been a long week.
By the time the weekend rolled around, I was both clutching Nova’s hand to keep her from going with Chris and reminding myself that I should appreciate the break. Seven years after having my daughter and I still haven’t beat it into my brain that it’s okay to need a moment to yourself. The guilt that comes with leaving her with her father never fails to make me feel like the world’s worst mother.
I spent last night curled up on the couch, nursing a glass of cheap white wine and watching the first DVD I found in one of the living room boxes until I fell asleep. It was a quiet Saturday night. Nothing special in the slightest.
The familiar ring of an incoming FaceTime call has me sitting up in my patio chair, a sheen of sweat sticking to my skin as I reach for my phone. It’s mid-afternoon on a scorcher of a Sunday, and I’m lounging in my backyard beneath the sun, hoping to tan my pasty skin. I wasn’t expecting a call from my mom, but from the name on my phone screen, that’s what I’m getting today .
At least I didn’t attempt to tan in the nude like I contemplated until remembering my grumpy neighbour would certainly have had a problem with that if he saw.
Maybe that should have given me all the more reason to do it, but I’m mature enough not to try and piss him off. For now.
Mom’s face appears on the screen the moment I accept the call. Her grin could melt snowcaps with how warm it is. I wish I got her dimples, but she only shared her hair colour and terrible driving skills with me.
“ Hej, min ?lskade ,” she sings before blowing a kiss at the camera.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Mom? That’s all I get?”
I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the sun. “ Du ?r dramatiskt igen .”
“That’s better, even if it is an insult. ‘Hey, Mom’ is so boring,” she says on a sigh.
“I didn’t know you were going to call today.”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was trying to look around me to notice whether I’m alone or not. “Did you not want me to call?”
“I always want to talk to you, Mamma. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.”
“Well, I missed you today. I couldn’t wait until Nova got back to call you.”
I smile softly, fully understanding how she’s feeling. “I miss you too. Where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he’s around here somewhere. Probably tinkering around with someone that doesn’t need to be tinkered with.”
“Is he that bored?”
“Your father is always bored now. Old age is supposed to make a man settle, but not him. He would rather be on the ice risking breaking his brittle bones than snuggling with me on the couch.”
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. My parents have always been ones to bicker in a way that would seem tedious but is just their love language. My dad is young at heart despite his age being in the fifties, and if he had it his way, he never would have retired. Unfortunately, regardless of whether he believes it or not, his time as a goalie is over.
“I know you’re not talking shit about me, Morgan. I’ll have you know that I’m not brittle at fucking all.”
My cheeks burn from the smile that splits my mouth at the sound of his voice. When he ducks into the view of the camera, he’s scowling, but it’s weak and disappears the moment he sees me, replaced with a grin.
The lack of wrinkles on his face should be studied, but the grey hairs streaked through the brown give away his age, even if he has perfect skin. His eyes twinkle as he looks at the camera, and my heart swells.
“ Mitt hj?rta ,” he murmurs, calling me his heart for the millionth time in my life. “I missed your face.”
After thirty years of living in Sweden, my parents are both fluent in the native language and, more often than not, speak in Swedish as opposed to English.
While they’re both from Vancouver, I was born and raised in Malm?, Sweden, after they moved there while Mom was pregnant with me. I grew up speaking both languages and learning about two countries that each hold a significant piece of me. Our vacations to Canada were the only time I got to see where my parents grew up, but I clung to it like I’d always shared my life between both places.
Once I turned twenty-one, I made the decision to move to Canada. It wasn’t supposed to be a permanent thing, but once I met Chris and had Nova . . . it became one. I miss Sweden more than words, but I’m also happy here. I feel at peace where I am while also knowing that could change at any time.
“Hi, Dad,” I say, tucking my feet beneath me on the chair. “Mom was telling me about how you won’t sit and watch movies with her? ”
He sits beside Mom on the couch now, one arm slinging over her shoulders. His eyes find hers as he smirks. “Is that so?”
“Apparently, you’d rather fix things that aren’t broken,” I add.
“Avery!” Mom scolds half-heartedly. “You tattletale.”
“It’s payback for all the times you did it when I was a kid.” I shrug.
Dad tips his chin at the phone, where Mom holds it extended in front of them both. “That’s my girl.”
“When are you coming to visit? It’s been too long since I’ve held you and my precious Nova,” Mom says.
“I don’t know. Fall break, maybe? School starts next week, and the shop is still a work in progress.”
Her lips press together as she nods, her features tugging in a way that makes me feel terrible for not being able to come right this moment. “Now I know how my parents felt when we moved here.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t move here to hurt you.”
It’s still hard being away. I think it always will be.
“Oh, don’t apologize to us. We know. It’s only fair for you to get to experience what we had growing up. Canada is a part of you,” Dad soothes.
“I’ll try to come as soon as I can. I’ve got to save?—”
“ Not a chance ,” Mom interrupts me. “We’ll pay for you. Don’t be silly.”
I frown. “I’m thirty, Mom. I can pay for my own trips.”
“Not when I’m the one begging you to come. Enough of that nonsense. We’ll talk about this later.”
“We can consider it a birthday present, hmm?” Dad offers.
Knowing better than to continue arguing about it, I let the topic go. “I’m supposed to pick up Nova in a couple of hours and still have a few things to do first. We’ll call you tomorrow morning, okay?”
“Okay, mitt hj?rta ,” Dad says before Mom has a chance to jump in. “We’ll talk later. Love you. ”
Mom brings the phone closer to her until it’s only her face in the camera. “I love you, Avery.”
“I love you both. I’ll call soon.”
Ending the call, I release a tight breath and stand, my legs stiff. I let the phone fall to the empty chair and stretch my back before heading for the blow-up pool we put up a couple of days ago.
It’s only a small one that doesn’t even come up to my hips, but with a couple of weeks left of this obscenely hot weather, it’ll do.
The water is cold when I step into it and drop to my ass, not caring much about the sudden drop in temperature. I smell like sunscreen and the anti-algae chemicals I dumped into the water earlier as I try to relax, my head so full it could explode.
The silence is damn loud without Nova here. If she were, she’d be splashing me in the face or shooting me with a water gun, and while I’d shoo her away, saying I want time to soak peacefully, I’d give in and pick up a water gun to join her.
My entire life revolves around her, and while that isn’t a bad thing in the slightest, sometimes I do wish that I had . . . more for myself. Sure, I have flowers, but they won’t keep me company either. They won’t wrap me in muscled arms or distract me from overthinking with warm breath on my neck . . .
I jolt out of my thoughts when a door slams. Shifting, I stare at the house beside mine and wait for another sound to follow.
Oliver’s house is nicer than mine, but only slightly. The yard is bigger, with a massive shed and grass decorated with crisscrossing lines from a mower. Mine is overgrown and infested with dandelions. I’d be embarrassed that he must have seen the state of it already if I gave a shit about him and his opinion. Which I do not. Obviously.
The moment his back door swings open and he steps outside in little more than a pair of gym shorts and a towel thrown over his shoulder, I know I should look away. He’ll bitch me out the moment he catches me staring, but Christ. First, he comes and yells at me for moving in wearing a pair of sinful grey sweatpants and nothing else, and now this? I’ve never seen so many abs outside of gym rat videos or TV.
At least there are only a couple more weeks of summer left. Then he’ll have no choice but to layer up with clothes to keep warm.
He lifts his hand and squirts water from a bottle into his mouth before proceeding to soak his bare chest in it. I almost laugh at how porny it looks, but I can’t because he’s also so fucking sexy, all glistening and wet in the sun.
His hair is messy and already damp, and his cheeks are red, his chest puffing with every breath he takes. I swallow the excess moisture in my mouth and curl my fingers in the pool water when he heads toward the rack of weights beside his shed and starts to pick two up.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter.
He’s really going to work out in the backyard right now. In the heat while dripping in water and what I think is sweat from whatever other activity he was doing before now. I tip my head back and force my eyes shut before he catches me looking.
With my fingers still curled, I get to my feet, the water swishing and splashing around me as I nearly slip on a slick spot of whatever the hell this pool is made of. I grow tense, freezing when something drops to the ground in the direction of where Oliver stands.
“Pool’s a bit small, isn’t it?” he asks, that gruff voice of his falling like a sledgehammer between us.
“Wish I could say the same about your ego,” I reply stiffly.
Why didn’t I buy a house with a real fence instead of a pathetic wire one that doesn’t give me a single inch of privacy?
“You don’t know a damn thing about my ego, princess.”
I glare harshly at him and grip my waist. “I wish that were true. The last thing I want is for you to take up an inch of my brain space.”
His brown eyes narrow right back as he stays rooted to his spot in the grass. It aggravates me even more than his presence does when he doesn’t drop his gaze for even one second to take in the skimpy bikini I’m wearing. Yeah, it’s probably stupid to want a man to ogle me, but considering I’ve just done it to him, it’s only fair.
I’m too curious to learn if he’s as impressed with what he sees as I am to be modest. For God’s sake, it’s not like he can’t tell that I’m in a bathing suit that does little to cover my tits, considering it’s neon yellow. Still, he doesn’t budge.
“Are you sure I’m not already?” he asks, a smirk twisting his mouth.
I’d love to punch it off.
“I hope you drop one of those weights on your foot, butternalle ,” I toss back before heading inside, my steps more stomped than they should be.
His voice carries on the breeze, reaching me just before I get to the door. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
The corner of my mouth tips up as I go inside, leaving him wondering. Only once I’ve closed every set of blinds in this place and stepped into a cold shower do I forget about Oliver Bateman again.