Chapter 45Avery
Chapter Forty-Five
Avery
My phone buzzes for the hundredth time as I frantically rummage through my closet. Clothes are strewn across my bedroom floor like confetti after a parade. I grab my phone, nearly dropping it in my haste.
Jessica
What are you bringing for the potluck?
I groan, running a hand through my messy hair. "Crap, I forgot about that," I mutter.
My thumbs fly across the screen.
Avery
Actually, change of plans. Won't be able to make it this year. Sorry!
I toss my phone on the bed and dive back into the closet. What does one pack for a week in Boston? With Victor, no less. My stomach does a little flip at the thought.
The phone chimes again. And again. And again.
Emily
Everything okay?
Samantha
What do you mean you can't make it???
Jessica
Is Olivia sick?
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for their reactions.
Avery
Victor invited Olivia and me to spend Thanksgiving week in Boston with him
I wince as I hit send, not sure of their responses.
There's a moment of silence before my phone explodes with notifications.
Samantha
OMG!
Emily
Wow, that's a big step!
Jessica
So romantic!
I feel my cheeks heat up.
Avery
It's not like that
My protest is weak, even as my heart races.
Samantha
Girl, please. He's whisking you away for the holidays. It's EXACTLY like that!
I roll my eyes, but can't help the smile tugging at my lips.
Avery
You're ridiculous
Samantha
And you're in denial
Have fun in Boston, lovebird!
I toss the phone aside, shaking my head. But as I turn back to my packing disaster, I can't quite shake the butterflies in my stomach. A whole week with Victor. In Boston. Just the three of us.
What am I getting myself into?
Emily
So what's the plan in Boston? Fancy dinners? Sightseeing?
I chew my lip, realizing I have no clue.
Avery
Honestly? No idea. Just Thanksgiving with his foster brothers, I guess.
Jessica
OMG!
He's introducing you to his family!
My heart skips a beat.
Avery
It's not like that
I type hastily, even as my palms start to sweat.
Avery
We're just friends.
Samantha
Sure
Friends who spend holidays together and meet the family.
I'm about to argue when Olivia pokes her head in. "Mom? I'm all packed!"
"That's great, sweetie," I say, quickly texting goodbye to the girls. "One sec?—"
Olivia's eyes widen as she takes in the chaos of my room. Clothes are strewn everywhere, covering every surface like multicolored snow.
"Yep! Are you okay? You look... stressed." Her young eyes are too perceptive.
"Fine, fine," I insist, even as my phone chirps with another round of messages. I swipe to silence it.
Olivia's gaze sweeps over my room—clothes strewn across the bed, a suitcase gaping open like a hungry mouth—and she arches an eyebrow. "Looks like you could use some help."
"Is it that obvious?" I laugh, even though the chaos around me feels like a mirror to my jumbled thoughts.
"Kinda," Olivia says with a giggle, stepping inside. "Let's get you packed, Mom. Boston won't know what hit it."
"Thanks, Liv." Relief washes over me, not just for the help, but for her presence grounding me amidst the whirlwind of emotions.
"First things first," she declares with the confidence only a ten-year-old can muster, "we need to find something nice for you to wear. Something that'll make Mr. Victor's jaw drop."
"Alright, Operation Jaw Drop," I chuckle, giving in to Olivia's infectious enthusiasm. "But if Victor's jaw doesn't drop, you're on the hook for making Thanksgiving dinner." I wink at her, rummaging through the clothes scattered like colorful autumn leaves.
"Deal!" she chirps, holding up a deep red sweater that brings out the warmth in my cheeks. "This one screams 'fall festive' and 'I'm not trying too hard.'"
"Perfect choice." I nod, plucking it from her hands and folding it neatly into the suitcase.
"Mom," Olivia begins, her voice suddenly serious as she sits cross-legged on the bed, "you and Victor are kind of a thing now, huh?"
I pause, a pair of jeans halfway to the suitcase. "Kind of," I admit, avoiding her perceptive gaze. It's new territory, this thing with Victor, and I'm treading lightly.
"It's okay, Mom. I like him," she reassures me, her small hand patting the spot next to her.
"Thanks, Liv." I sit beside her, the denim fabric forgotten in my lap. "I just don't want us—either of us—to get our hopes up. Hearts can get bruised that way."
"But Mom," she says, a wisdom beyond her years glinting in her eyes, "if you never put your feelings out there, you'll never feel anything at all. You could miss out on something amazing."
Her words hit home, and I pull her into a hug, amazed by the little person in my arms. "You've grown so much this year, you know that?"
"Yep!" She grins, popping the 'p' with a cheeky sparkle.
Olivia's eyes light up. "Oh! Can we see the Thanksgiving Day parade? I've always wanted to go to one of those."
"The parade?" I hadn't even thought about it. "I'm not sure what Victor has planned, but I'll try my best to make sure we can break away in the morning to see it. It does sound fun."
She beams at me, clearly excited by the prospect. As she starts folding again, she hesitates, then turns to me with a serious expression.
"Mom, I just want you to know... I'm really glad things with Victor seem to be going well. It's nice to see you happy instead of moping around all the time."
I can't help but laugh. "Moping? You think I mope around?"
"Well, yeah," she says matter-of-factly. "You always used to be sort of on edge, but that seems to have gone away lately. I really hope this thing with Victor is here to stay."
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. Have I really been that transparent? That miserable? I'm about to respond when the doorbell rings, making me jump.
"Oh no, that's Victor!" I exclaim, suddenly frantic. "I'm not ready!"
I start throwing clothes haphazardly into my suitcase as Olivia laughs and heads for the door. My heart is racing, but not just from the rush. It's racing because, despite my fears, I'm excited. I'm hopeful. And maybe I'm ready to take a chance on happiness again.