14. Ava
FOURTEEN
AVA
I know what you’re thinking. I couldn’t possibly have just offered to marry Tyler Warren. I hate him. I’ve spent the last two years lamenting how he’s a narcissist who cares about no one but himself. Agreeing— no, proposing —to be his wife for the next year, let alone sixteen, is insane.
But hear me out.
I might have been a teeny bit wrong about him. Not completely, because I still think he’s a womanizer who stood me up two years ago in favor of a one-night stand. Something I made clear I wasn’t interested in.
But he’s not only a womanizer. Is any person really only anything?
God, I hope not. If so, then I have no idea who I am. For so long, I was nothing more than the girl who provided blood and body parts to keep her sister alive. If that’s all I was, that would be pretty pathetic.
Although I don’t regret a single donation, I’ve got to be more than that. Right?
Maybe this is my shot. My chance to be someone else.
It’s clearly the most out of character thing I’ve ever done. Or it’s the most in character. Dedicating my life to someone else’s happiness. I suppose maybe I am still the same person I always was .
But it’s for three kids who need me. War isn’t at risk of losing Brayden and Scarlett. They’re safe here. But Josie? Without War proving that she has a stable, loving home—that it is in her best interest to stay with him—she’ll be at risk of losing the first family she’s ever had.
I refuse to let that girl lose anything else.
I may be the best chance she has of staying in this house. I’m not saying I’m perfect, and if anyone found out my secret, I’d probably be the last person they’d deem worthy of raising a kid. Still, I truly believe this is the right thing to do. I’ll always put those kids first. They’ll be safe and happy and loved. That should be enough, right?
Assessing myself in War’s bathroom mirror, I make peace with my decision and glance at the clothes I dropped onto the counter.
Putting them on will make it more real. His clothes. His house. His bed.
And I’ll be his wife.
Not in the biblical way, of course. Just in the we’re going to raise kids together and build a beautiful life for them and …holy shit, I’m going to be married to Tyler Warren.
Spiraling, I pick up my phone and text my sister.
Me: It’s late, I know. I should have texted earlier. It’s after midnight here, though, so Merry Christmas. I have some pretty unexpected news and I’m not even sure how I feel about it, but…
Me: I’m getting married!
Me: Okay, deep breaths. It’s not how you think. We’re doing it for Josie. Remember that guy I told you about a couple of years ago? The one who stood me up and
Having no interest in reliving all the turmoil that’s festered between us, I delete the message.
Let’s try this again.
Me: I’m marrying Tyler Warren. He’s a hockey player. I’ve told you about him before, remember? He’s adopting Josie. It’s not love in the traditional sense, but I love Josie and he does too. And I really think this is my purpose. Why I found myself in Boston. For her. And her sister. I just met Scarlett, and I’m already in love with her. Tyler is also the guardian of a teenager, Brayden. He seems like a good kid. It will take time for them to be comfortable with me, but I’m going all-in. You always said nothing worth doing is worth doing halfway. I wish you were here. I wish we could wake up together tomorrow, and I wish you could meet all of them. Even Tyler.
Me: I’ll text you tomorrow. I love you.
The weight of the night hits now that I’ve texted her. I always work out my feelings through our conversations. My messages are as therapeutic as diary entries.
A gentle knock sounds on the door, startling me. “You okay?”
“Yup.” I set my phone down and scan the room, garnering the last of my energy. “Be right out.”
No more dilly-dallying. Morning will come soon, and with a house filled with kids on Christmas, I can only imagine the energy I’ll need.
I pick up the T-shirt and immediately roll my eyes. Of course he picked a Bolts shirt emblazoned with Warren and a big 7 on the back. Despite my better judgment, I slip it on. I can’t sleep in my dress, and I’m too tired to argue with him, which is exactly what would happen if I asked for a different shirt. With a quick glance at my reflection, I stalk out of the bathroom. “Is it a hockey player thing only, or do all guys like seeing their name on a woman’s back?”
Tyler is already beneath the covers—thank god; I couldn’t handle another minute of awkwardly staring at one another before getting into bed—and as I shuffle to the empty side, he blinks at me, looking shell-shocked. Though he opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, no words come out.
“Okay,” I say, frowning at his lack of response. “Guess it wasn’t intentional.” Slipping into bed, I adjust the sheet and comforter and swallow back a moan at how comfortable the mattress is. “I can’t imagine you’d be eager to see me, of all people, wearing your last name. It’s just that Sara and Lennox are always going on about how much the guys love seeing the girls in their jerseys. It’s a whole thing for them. But then again, they’re all kind of…kinky?” I shrug.
Yeah, that’s how I’d categorize them. They’re also oversharers, which is apparently what I am when I’m nervous, because did I really just say the word kinky while climbing into bed beside Tyler Warren?
Also, how come every time I say his name in my head it’s a whole thing. Tyler Warren? He’s like a god in my mind. Untouchable. I’m so embarrassing.
“Sorry, I’m being awkward. Just go to sleep. I swear I’ll be more normal in the morning.”
Pulling the comforter all the way up to my chin, I turn toward the door, my back to him, and pray for sleep to take me. Or a black hole. Either would be acceptable right about now.
War shifts, causing the bed to dip, and then he’s closer. Too close, since the air that escapes him when he lets out a heavy sigh tickles the back of my neck. “I didn’t actually get to see the back of the shirt on you. May I?”
I peer over my shoulder and find him motioning to the covers. Without a word, I nod. If I speak now, I’ll blurt out something else ridiculous.
He gently pulls the covers down, the move far too charged. I hold my breath, certain that if I don’t, the tension in the room will drown me.
Every syllable he speaks in that gravelly tone vibrates through me. “I can’t speak for all men, but yeah, I really like seeing you wearing my number.” He tugs the covers up again and shifts back, taking his heat with him. “I just didn’t expect you to wear it without pants.”
My heart all but stops when realization dawns. Crap. I walked out of the bathroom without putting on the sweats he gave me. “Uh, I?—”
War chuckles. “Go to bed, wifey. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
I wake to the sound of giggles and a loud, drawn-out “ Tyler !”
“You know the rules. Knock before entering.” This voice is deeper, groggy.
“But it’s Christmas, Bray. Our first Christmas as a family. We need to wake him up. Let’s jump on the bed.”
I’m still fighting to open my eyes, confused about where I am, when the door swings open and the voices grow louder. “It’s Ava! Brayden, it’s Ava.”
“I can see that,” he grumbles.
Finally, I force my eyes open and blink into the dim light until the voices become people in front of me.
Brayden is holding Scarlett, who is wiggling against his chest, anxious to get down. Josie is bounding toward me, wearing the biggest smile.
Finally, memories from last night return, and it hits me. I slept over. I’m in Tyler Warren’s bed.
Holy shit, I’m in War’s bed.
“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs in my ear, hugging me to his chest.
My heart thumps wildly now that I notice the way he’s wrapped around me, his arms cradling me, his face buried in my hair, his head on my freaking pillow.
“Santa granted my wish. Ava is still here,” Josie squeals as she jumps onto the bed.
Lungs seizing, I roll out of War’s arms.
This is not good.
Once I’ve put a little distance between us, I dart a look at Brayden again. While Josie may think this is just a fun sleepover, it’s clear from the teenager’s amused face that he knows what adults normally do during overnight visits.
“Merry Christmas, love bug,” I say to Josie, breathing through my panic. I open my arms wide and catch her as she catapults into them. I inhale the fragrance of her shampoo and kiss her head, finally beginning to find my bearings. This is just the reminder I need. I’m here for her. For them. The kids, that is.
“What am I? Yesterday’s news?” War shifts, wearing a pout.
Josie launches herself into his arms next. “You told me you got me the best present ever, and you weren’t lying. Is she staying all day?”
War chuckles now, his smile wide. “Yeah, I think so.” He nods to Brayden. “How’d you sleep?”
Brayden settles a still squirming Scarlett on the floor. She’s barely touched the ground before she’s running toward the bed and fisting the covers, trying to pull herself up. I reach down for the little blondie and help her up. Once she’s got her knees on the mattress, she crawls right up my body and sits on my chest, her full diaper making a plopping sound.
“Pwetty.” She smacks her warm, slightly sticky palms against my cheeks. Her rosy cheeks, the crusties in her eyes, and the blond wisps falling into her face do nothing to hide just how perfect this little girl is.
Brayden cringes. “Sorry, I didn’t change her diaper.”
With a smile at him, I shake my head. “No worries. I can do it. Good morning, Scarlett.” I rub a hand over her head, relishing the feel of her silky baby hair. “And yes, you are very pretty.”
She pats her chest and smiles. “Pwetty.”
Giggling, I shift her so I can get out of bed and change her. Only the moment I swing my legs over the side of the mattress and the cool air hits them, I realize that I’m still not wearing pants.
And any preconceived—and wrong—notions Brayden may have are seemingly confirmed.
“I’ll, uh, take care of it.” War hops out of bed and scoops Scarlett up. Once she’s settled in the crook of his arm, he meets my eye, his lips folded in. Clearly, he’s holding in a laugh at my expense. “Come on, Bray. Once we get this one’s diaper changed, we can get breakfast started, and then it’s present time.”
I slip back under the covers, hiding my bare legs before Josie notices .
Beside me, she shouts, “Presents!” But rather than barrel out of here, she turns her attention back to me, snuggling into War’s pillow. She looks so cozy in the plaid nightgown that matches his pants. Now that I’m seeing them again, I realize that Scarlett’s jammies were the same plaid. Brayden’s too.
My heart trips over itself. Did Tyler Warren buy matching Christmas pajamas for all of them? And if so, why is that so freaking adorably hot?
I bat away thoughts surrounding War’s attractiveness. But the pajamas only solidify my decision to marry him. Not for me, but because these kids deserve the kind of love and devotion he is clearly lavishing them with.
“This really is my best present,” Josie says in that soft, whispery voice she always used when we’d snuggle in her hospital room and watch movies. She’d share little thoughts with me. Not true secrets, but thoughts that were important to her. Every time she trusts me to keep one, my heart grows another size.
I run a hand through her hair and cup her face. “What is, love?”
“You are. Christmas morning wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
Warmth creeps up my neck and into my cheeks. With fair skin like mine, there’s no way to hide the blush. I so badly want to tell her that I’ll always be here. But before I do, I need to check in with War. If he’s changed his mind, I can’t really blame him, since I accepted a proposal he hadn’t made and all but forced myself on the man.
A man who dislikes me greatly.
A man I dislike as well. Obviously.
At least, I did . I’m not sure I can continue to hate a man who isn’t at all what I thought. I’m beginning to realize that I made a lot of assumptions and based my opinion on what I think may have been misconceptions. How could they not be? A narcissistic playboy doesn’t choose to move away from his friends and purchase a large family home so he can adopt three lonely kids.
“Waking up to your beautiful face has definitely made this the best Christmas,” I admit .
“We should have had a sleepover in my room. Boys smell, and my room is prettier than this one.”
I laugh at the matter-of-fact way she lays it all out.
“You think Tyler smells?” I tease.
She shrugs. “No. He actually smells really good.” She snuggles deeper into his pillow. “For a boy.”
Joy bubbles up inside me. God, it feels good to be here with her. I never could have imagined Christmas going this way. Just the thought of how I could have woken up by myself this morning, how instead of giggling with Josie, I’d be lying in the dark, lost in the past, has me rolling closer to her and sniffing War’s pillow.
Pulling back, I let my mouth drop open and widen my eyes in an exaggerated way. “His pillow does smell.” I give her head a sniff next, tickling her while I inhale her sweetness. It’s a tease, though in reality, I’m soaking her in. “You’re right. I should have slept in your room. You smell so much better.”
We stay like that a little longer, laughing and cuddling, until I send her downstairs, promising I’ll follow once I get dressed.
Once she’s gone and I’m left in the quiet room lit only by the morning sun peeking through the blinds, I realize I’ll either have to stay in War’s clothes or put my dress back on. The memory of his whispered words about how he liked seeing his number on my back has my body heating even as I get out of bed, pantsless, and my bare feet hit the cold wooden planks.
If I’m really moving in with him, then I’ll definitely request he add a plush area rug.
Or will I have my own bedroom?
If he had an extra room, wouldn’t he have offered it to me last night? It’s not like he wanted me to sleep in his bed.
Or did he?
God, I could go round and round in my head all day if I’m not careful. Overthinking and overanalyzing every interaction we’ve had over the last twenty-four hours won’t do me any good. So I head to the bathroom and slip on the far too large sweats he pulled out for me last night. I have to roll them four times to keep them from slipping down my hips. Then I squeeze a small glob of toothpaste onto my finger and run it over my teeth and give my hair a quick finger combing, working to make the mess look a little tamer. When I’m finished, I look a little less like Anna from Frozen when she wakes up and more like myself—albeit a happier version. Because even though I don’t have my own clothes or a toothbrush, I woke up to three smiling kids, and honestly, I can’t think of anything better.