Chapter 29
Ava
The ride back to the hotel is silent.
Not quiet, because nothing in Los Angeles is ever quiet. Not with sirens echoing three blocks over, music thumping through open windows, and a Vespa engine screaming for its tiny Italian life.
But silent.
Harrison doesn’t say a word.
He’s silent in the way thunderstorms are silent right before they split the sky open.
I cling to him as we weave through traffic, as he cuts between cars with terrifying precision. His shoulders are rigid beneath my hands, every muscle in his body locked down so tight it feels dangerous to even breathe near him.
This is Harrison going ice cold, and I hate it.
When I can’t take it anymore, I open my mouth.
“Harrison—”
He accelerates and cuts right so hard wind lashes across my face, stealing the rest of the sentence straight out of my lungs.
Okay then.
Apparently, we’ve entered the portion of today’s festivities where any and all attempts at communication with Harrison Evans will be met with my life flashing before my eyes.
Jeez.
Why can’t men just talk things out?
By the time we pull up to the valet, my stomach is in knots.
Harrison kills the engine and gets off the Vespa.
More reporters are camped out across the street from the hotel, cameras already lifting the second they spot us.
On autopilot, I rush inside.
They already got the shot of the century. I draw the line at helmet hair.
I barely get the helmet off before the elevator doors slide open.
Hannah is already there.
The second she sees me, her entire face crumples.
“Oh my God.”
Then she’s pulling me into her arms so fast and hard it nearly knocks the breath out of me.
And that’s what does it.
Piled on top of the reporters and the silence and the terrifying ride back that probably shaved a year off my life, it’s her kindness that gets me.
The concern in her voice.
The way she holds me like something terrible happened. Which it did.
She cares.
Like I matter.
Something inside my chest splinters straight down the middle, and suddenly my eyes burn. My throat tightens.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly, rocking me.
I nod against her shoulder, blinking hard at the sudden sting behind my eyes.
I know myself. Once I start, God only knows when I’ll stop.
And how am I supposed to hold it together when Harrison’s mad at me?
I can already feel him pulling away.
Before he and the kids showed up, I spent three whole weeks without him speaking to me.
Three long, miserable weeks that somehow felt closer to a year.
I’m not sure I’ll survive that again.
Zac stands near the elevator with his phone pressed to his ear, expression grim.
“I want this handled,” Zac says sharply into the phone.
A pause while he holds the elevator door open for us.
Then his brows lift.
“I’m sorry…” His gaze cuts to Harrison. “The man claims Harrison hit him?”
Harrison lets out a tired breath and gives a single nod.
Zac tips his head back toward the ceiling. “Fine. I don’t care what it takes. Make it disappear.”
He hangs up and looks at Harrison.
“Good news,” he says dryly. “Whoever wound you up like a homicidal toy car is probably going to live.”
“Hannah smacks his arm. “Zac.”
“What? I said probably.”
His expression softens as he looks back at Harrison.
“It’s handled. Paparazzi guy isn’t pressing charges.” He pockets his phone. “Turns out a full set of veneers cures PTSD.”
Harrison barely reacts. He just breathes a quiet, “Thanks.”
The elevator doors slide open, and Harrison steps out.
Not a glance back.
Not a hand reaching for mine.
Not even that absentminded touch at my lower back he does so often I stopped noticing it until now.
And God, somehow that hurts worse than if he’d yelled at me the entire ride up.
Hannah looks between us carefully.
“Should we come in or—”
“No,” Harrison says, the single word cracking through the hallway like a gunshot.
His expression softens slightly when he looks at his sister. “Keep an eye out for the kids. This is between me and my wife.”
Wife.
Usually the word wraps around me like a warm blanket.
Right now it sounds strained and full of regret.
He opens the suite door and waits for me to walk inside first.
Chivalry in the face of a firing squad.
The second it shuts behind us, the silence swallows the room whole.
And Harrison can’t even look at me.
“Harrison—”
“How long?”
His voice is flat. Detached.
“How long?” I echo dumbly.
“How long have you known about Iceland?”
I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat. “A few days.”
His jaw ticks.
Once.
Twice.
“A few days,” he repeats slowly, like he’s mentally calculating every single time I could’ve told him and didn’t.
Every smile.
Every laugh.
Every kiss.
Every minute he spent standing beside me while I kept one massive secret tucked away.
Helplessly, I hold my hands out. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
A hollow laugh escapes him.
“So your plan was what exactly?” he asks, unimpressed. “Never tell me that you’re moving to fucking Iceland?”
“Jesus, Harrison, I was trying to tell you at the bookstore.”
His stare slices into mine.
“The same bookstore where apparently half of fucking LA knew about your trip before I did?”
He begins to pace, control fraying at the edges.
“So we fly all the way here, and what, Pix?” His voice roughens. “Me and the kids are just supposed to play house with you?”
Is he serious right now?
What am I, clairvoyant?
“I didn’t know you were coming,” I cry. “You haven’t talked to me for weeks, Harrison. Weeks.”
He turns toward me, eyes bloodshot and raw.
Hurt and fury and disbelief all welded together inside a man usually buttoned up tighter than Fort Knox.
For one stupid second, all I want to do is fix it.
Just wrap my arms around him until this awful crack between us seals shut again.
But the second I step forward, he pulls back.
“I’m not moving there permanently,” I say quickly.
He pockets both hands. “Exactly how long are you moving there for, Pix?”
I take a breath, trying to arrange the truth into something that sounds reasonable.
Something survivable.
Instead, it all tumbles out.
“Six weeks there. Then I get a week off. Then another six weeks and…”
I hesitate.
His face hardens instantly.
“And?”
“Then we start filming in Scotland,” I finish quietly.
For one long, awful moment, he just stares at me like he honestly has no idea who I am anymore.
The silence is unbearable.
Then finally, he breaks.
“I don’t believe this.” He drags a hand through his hair and paces away from me before turning back around. “Why am I even here?”
Tears burn instantly behind my eyes.
“Because you love me,” I whisper. “And I love you. And the kids—”
“Don’t.” His voice cracks on the word.
The pain on his face nearly levels me.
“They’re going to be crushed, Ava.”
Ava.
Not Pix.
Like he’s already putting distance between us.
“I thought we were finally going to be a family,” he says quietly.
“We are a family,” I choke out. “But this is my job, Harrison. I can’t just say no.”
“Can’t,” he repeats softly. “Or won’t?”
“That’s not fair. You knew what my life looked like when we did this.”
His laugh is hollow. “Did what, exactly? The fake marriage?” he asks quietly. “Falling in love with each other?” His eyes pin mine. “Because news flash, Ava Alvarez, the kids aren’t pretending.”
My throat burns.
“Neither am I,” I whisper.
For one hopeful second, he looks wrecked enough to believe me.
Then he shakes his head.
“They think I don’t know, but they’ve been planning our wedding,” he says quietly. His jaw tightens hard. “They love you, Ava.”
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks. “And I love them. That’s not going to change.”
He lets out a hollow laugh and looks away.
“You really think those kids are going to understand why you suddenly disappear?”
“I’m not disappearing.” My voice breaks. “We’ll make it work. I’ll call every day. We’ll FaceTime. I’ll fly back whenever I can—”
“That’s not the same and you know it.”
I grab his hand before he can pull farther away. “Please.”
But he yanks it away.
“With you leaving and all…” His chest rises sharply. “Maybe it’s better if you stop talking to the kids.”
My brain misfires.
He’s not just pushing me away.
He’s taking the kids with him.
And just like that, it feels like someone reached into my chest and started ripping pieces out barehanded.
The blood drains from my face so fast the room actually spins.
“Dad?”
Connor stands frozen in the doorway, frowning between us. “What’s going on?”
Every cell in my body goes cold.
They shouldn’t be hearing this.
Harrison’s eyes slam shut for one brutal second before he answers.
“Ava’s leaving for work,” he says roughly. “And she’s not coming back.”
I stare in disbelief.
How can he say that? Of course, I’m coming back.
But then another thought crashes in right behind it.
Is this his way of telling me not to bother?
My heart drops to the floor.
I hate that he said that.
And I hate even more that there’s no way to shove the words back into his fucking mouth because now they’re out there.
And they’re real.
And the stupid heart I trusted him with?
Completely shattered.
“No!” Ollie rushes into the room so fast he nearly trips over his own feet, panic written all over his face.
Then Snooki launches herself at me.
I barely catch her before she slams into my chest, tiny arms wrapping desperately around my neck.
“Don’t leave us,” she sobs.
And that’s it.
That’s the sound that completely destroys me.
“Hey. Hey, baby.” My voice trembles as all three kids crowd around me until we’re suddenly this tangled, crying heap in the middle of the room. “It’s okay. I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.”
I want to promise Snooki we’ll still do bedtime stories over FaceTime.
That Ollie can still call me every night to tell me weird random facts and ask what I ate for dinner.
That Connor can still text me memes at two in the morning and pretend he totally wasn’t waiting for my reply.
I want to tell them nothing will change.
But then I look up at Harrison.
And he looks like someone just drove a knife straight through his chest.
He’s their father. End of story.
And if I stay, promising impossible things while they cry in my arms, I’m only making this worse.
Snooki clings tighter around my neck. “Don’t go.”
“I have to, baby.” My voice breaks completely now. “I’m so sorry.”
She starts sobbing harder when I hand her back to Harrison.
Connor looks shattered.
Ollie won’t even look at me anymore.
I kiss all three of them anyway, trembling so hard I can barely stay upright, then force myself toward the door.
Every step feels wrong.
Like I’m tearing pieces of myself off and leaving them behind.
Because somewhere along the way, those kids wrapped themselves around my heart, and I stopped knowing where they ended and I began.
And now I’m walking away from the family I love.
As Harrison Evans lets me.