This Love (This Love #1)

Chapter 1

Tucker

My mom, back when she was alive, loved poetry.

I never really understood it, being a twelve-year-old numbskull who’d rather be zapping zombies on my PlayStation.

She’d quote one of them all the time. Something like, “She walks in beauty.”

It had a line about a cheek and a smile.

I could probably Google it, but at that moment, with the first glow of morning casting across Ava’s face, I didn’t need the words.

I had the feeling.

Rosy. Content. She sleeps in beauty.

Ha. Sleeping beauty. Suddenly, the fairy tale made sense, too. I’d cut down thorn bushes to get to her. Could I defeat a dragon?

Maybe those PlayStation hours I’d logged as a kid would come in handy if I had to wield a sword and aim for an imaginary jugular.

But this morning seemed the right kind for poems.

This afternoon, Ava and I would get married.

It felt like a long time coming, but we had met young when we were only seventeen. In the eight years since then, I’d found her, lost her, and found her again, like a river traversing a mountainside.

I hoped the wedding would be a linchpin, a moment in time we could look back on as, yes, this was the day we committed to this course, no matter where it took us.

Ava slept soundly and hated how alarms startled her like a shock to the heart. I leaned over to stroke her pale cheek with the back of my fingers to rouse her gently.

Another line returned from that long-latent memory.

“Mellowed to that tender light.”

I glanced at the ceiling, as if Mom might be there, feeding me the words. “Thanks for being here,” I whispered. Thirteen years gone, along with my father and younger brother, lost in an instant, leaving only me to survive the crash.

But today, on this day, she was with me.

Ava shifted toward me. “What did you say? I missed it.”

“Just good morning.” I leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Happy wedding day.”

She smiled. “But this is the one day you don’t have to get up early.”

My hours at Jiffy Lube normally started at seven. Ava worked for herself and never stirred before nine.

“But it’s the one day you do.” I stayed close, reveling in the sleepy warmth of her neck and bare shoulder.

She blew out a gust of air. “Right. Hairdresser. Makeup artist.” She rolled into me, tucking her head against my chest. “How about I sleep in and rely on my natural beauty?”

“Works for me.” I pulled her in more tightly.

She lay there for a few more seconds, then blew out another huff. “I can’t. Tina would be disappointed. So would Dad.”

“And your sisters.” Ava’s father had a second family who adored her. “They’re all so excited to do girly things with you.”

Ava kicked the covers aside. “I regret agreeing to this big production. We should have eloped.”

“Not too late. I can sneak you out of the house.”

But at that moment, a car door slammed. Then another. Cheerful voices filtered up from the yard.

Then the front door opened. Ava’s stepmother Tina had a spare key. All our close friends and family did. They worried about us. They had their reasons.

Ava ducked beneath the sheets, visible only as a spray of long, brown hair fanned over the pillow.

I burrowed my way next to her until I could make out her shadowy face. “You think they’ll find us in here?”

Fingernails tapped on the bedroom door. “Ava? You up? It’s time.”

Ava’s face tilted toward mine. “That’s Tina.”

“I think you’re stuck.”

“Okay.” She leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the mouth, then threw the sheets down. “Coming!” she called.

I pulled on her arm to drag her in for another kiss before I let her go. “See you this afternoon,” I said. “I’ll be the one in the black tux.”

“I’ll be all in white,” she said. “Unless I make a run for it.”

“You’d better take me with you.”

She grinned. “Of course.” Then she was up, opening the door in her tank top and shorts, slipping into the hall.

I stayed in her warm spot a moment longer, trying to remember more of the poem. It felt like a gift. I had a feeling Mom knew I’d miss her, miss all of them, on a day like this.

I picked up my phone and Googled the words I remembered. The full text showed up easily. Lord Byron.

“She walks in beauty, like the night / Of cloudless climes and starry skies.”

It fit. Mom couldn’t have predicted who I would meet years after she was gone. But all those words suited Ava. Night. Cloudless. Starry.

Gram had been with me that day eight years ago when Ava turned up at the children’s hospital, wired for seizures, same as me. We were about to age out of pediatrics.

Epilepsy had been a battle for both of us, but now, in our mid-twenties, it felt like we had it licked. With puberty and growth spurts and hormonal imbalances behind us, we had treatments that worked. Meds for her. An implanted device for me.

Life was good. And with hope came optimism, so we made the leap to marriage, even though I was taking college classes while working full time.

Her photography business was thriving. She had even hired an assistant, Vinnie, who would photograph our wedding today.

Normal life finally seemed possible.

I slid out of the covers and headed to the window. Down below, Tina’s car gleamed on the curb. It looked out of place against the line of weary houses in need of paint, like a shiny diamond in the dirt.

It wasn’t a fancy neighborhood like theirs in Houston. But Ava and I were making our own way. We were proud of what we’d accomplished, despite everything life had thrown at us.

I turned to the closet. Time for me to head to Gram’s house to meet up with my best buds, Bill and Fuentes. We had it easy with nothing more to do than getting dressed in our fancy duds and driving over to the country club in the late afternoon.

It would be a good day.

And Mom, sitting on whatever star looked down on us, had somehow made sure it started out exactly right.

Maybe I’d add a little Lord Byron to my vows.