Chapter Thirty
Ben
Ava’s gorgeous eyes stared at me, assessing. I’d said too much. Or, rather, I’d said too much that hinted that I might have been interested in her before we started the house purchase. I planned to tell her eventually.
Probably.
It really depended on where this went, because confessing that I’d had such a crush on her in high school that I realized Jules wasn’t the girl for me would probably not help my current situation. If anything, it would have her sending me away before we could even have a real discussion.
I meant what I’d told her—that I didn’t want to get in between her and her friends. I knew how close they were and how much it meant to her to have even some of them coming back.
If, by some miracle, she and I could find a way to make this work in spite of my past with Jules, then maybe I’d tell her. Maybe.
“This was my parents’ house,” she said, grabbing a cutting board and a chef’s knife. “They never got around to renovating it.”
I moved a little closer to her. I knew her parents had died when she was in college in a car accident, but I didn’t know much more than that.
“Have you ever considered doing it for them?” I asked softly.
It was absolutely none of my business and, frankly, I didn’t care if her entire kitchen was turquoise. I had originally just been curious, but it now seemed like maybe this was more important than colors and flooring. I hadn’t considered that it might have something to do with losing her parents so young.
Maybe she hadn’t either.
She was quiet for a long time, so long that I thought she wouldn’t answer. Or maybe she didn’t know the answer. We washed. We chopped. I’d clearly overstepped.
When I was about to bring up something a little lighter before we started talking about Jules and dating, she answered, her voice smaller than I’d ever heard it.
“Not really.” She worried her bottom lip. “I’ve never seriously considered changing anything. At first I didn’t have the desire or the money, and now I don’t have the time.”
“I could help you,” I offered. “And I’m not saying that just to sneakily spend more time with you. Even if you do dump me, I’d still like to help. I owe you at least a few favors for all this cooking.”
She exhaled, stirring the onions that sizzled in the frying pan. “Thanks,” she turned toward me with a sad smile. “I’ll think about it.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” I couldn’t stop myself from wrapping an arm around her and giving her the most PG half-hug possible.
I thought for sure she’d step away. Instead, she faced me, burying her face in my chest. My chin fit perfectly on top of her head. I’d have to be more careful, because reducing her to a crying mess was not something I ever wanted to repeat.
“Ava, I’m so sorry,” I ran my hand over her silky blonde hair with one hand and kept squeezing her shoulder with my other. “Forget I said anything.”
“That’s not it,” she sniffled.
My chest ached at the sound. I didn’t press her, instead waiting until—or if—she was ready to elaborate.
“I just—when you said that, I realized that you’re the first person who’s asked me about my parents dying. Not just the polite niceties that you get at a funeral, but actually asking me how I’m handling it. If I’m okay. If I’d thought about redecorating as a way to honor them.”
How was that even possible? Her parents died almost a decade ago.
“What about your friends?” I asked before I could think better of it.
That finally did her in. I felt her shoulders start shaking, her sniffling intensified. I couldn’t see her face while it was smashed against my chest, but I knew she was crying.
She shook her head. “Riley called and she came to the funeral, but I think she didn’t really know what to say.”
Damn. “They should’ve been here for you. That’s what friends do.” I wish I’d known how thin her support network had been. I would’ve been here every day to check in until I knew she was alright.
“They were busy.”
“There are some things that are more important than busy.” And her friends should know that. I pulled her into an even tighter hug as she dissolved into tears.
She cried so long the onions started to burn, but I didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. Something told me she really needed to get it out. Something told me that there was a good chance no one had held her and let her cry for her parents.
Because who had been here?
That thought alone was enough to make my eyes get a little misty.
I waited until her shoulders stilled beneath my hands, then I reached for her chin, gently tilting her head so that I had her full attention. Her cheeks were soaked and so was my shirt, but I couldn’t care less about that. She needed to know that at least someone here had her back.
“I don’t care if we’re friends, lovers, enemies, or some strange combination thereof,” I told her, “but the next time you need someone to be there for you, call me .”
Nobody should have to cry alone.
I held her until the onions were a charred disaster on the bottom of the pan and the oven had been preheated for ages. She wasn’t crying anymore, but I was not about to rush her. I may have to sneakily turn off the stove, though.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do.” I wrapped my hands around her hips and slowly picked her up, settling her on the counter and standing in front of her so that we were eye-to-eye. “I’m going to order sushi for takeout. We’re going to drive together to pick it up, then we’re going to come back here and watch the stupidest, funniest movie you can come up with and eat sushi and egg rolls until we can’t move. Then we’ll take it from there. Sound like a plan?”
She nodded numbly, her eyes puffy and red but clearer than they were a few minutes ago.
I wanted to kiss her so badly. She looked like she needed a massive amount of snuggling, but I didn’t want to stress her out. Instead, I gave her thigh a quick squeeze of reassurance and stepped away to order our dinner.
She was still sitting on the counter when I returned. Her eyes followed me as I walked to stand in front of her, not sure how close I should get now that the crisis appeared to be over. She grabbed my hands, pulling me right up against her and then all the way in for a hug.
“Being with you would change everything,” she whispered into my chest.
I pulled her warm body tighter into me. “Sometimes change is a good thing.”
She deepened the hug, raising her head to place a kiss on my collarbone.
“I’ll talk to Jules when she gets back,” Ava said.
I shifted back so I could look at her. “You’re sure?” I was fully aware of the potential this had to turn ugly. Jules wasn’t vindictive, and I was hoping my attempt at an apology would help, but it was well within reason for her to see this as a betrayal.
She cupped her hands around my face, her voice resolute. “I’m sure.”