Chapter 14
ANDERSON
“Once the platter stops, you just use this lever here. It lifts the arm so you don’t have to touch it.” I show Georgie how to lift the tonearm using the cueing lever. “Then, make sure you grab the record by the edges.”
I glance down at the empty record sleeve between us on the living room floor.
“Why don’t you grab it off there?”
“Me?” Georgie asks, eyes wide.
I nod.
She looks a little unsure, but I give her a reassuring smile, wondering why she seems so nervous.
I feel Ava’s eyes on us as she makes her way into the living room, sitting down on the couch behind us.
After a moment, Georgie carefully lifts the vinyl from the turntable and slides it inside while I hold it open for her.
Keeping my features schooled, I make a mental note to ask Ava more about what sort of situation Georgie was in with their mom. All I know is what Ava told me, which isn’t a lot.
“Which one do you want to listen to now?” I ask Georgie, looking around at different album covers and band names, various moments and memories coming back to me as my eyes scan each one.
I had to tiptoe my way around the records Georgie had spread around the hardwood floor, but I didn’t mind—I also didn’t want to mess up any of her piles.
There seems to be a method in the way she sits between them, all the album covers surrounding her.
There was just enough room for me to squeeze in next to her.
It’s been a while since I’ve added to my vinyl collection, let alone listened to any of the dozens of records I own. I wasn’t surprised to see the thin layer of dust on the record player when I put on the first vinyl Georgie picked out.
Georgie gazes at me, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. “I can listen to another one?” she asks, her eyes wide before turning to Ava.
I try to hide my confusion, my gaze following hers, finding Ava on the couch, having followed me over here when we heard Georgie calling for her.
Then, my heart jumped to my throat, and my face felt like it was on fire, moments away from pulling Ava into my arms and kissing the smart ass comment about my blushing off her lips.
Her soft, plush, pouty lips.
“If it’s okay with Anderson,” Ava prompts, pulling her legs under her as her eyes fall to me.
Something about the way she settles into the leather couch has my stomach flipping—she isn’t in a rush to leave.
And if it were up to me, she never would.
“Of course it’s okay with me.” My eyes linger on Ava. The calmness that has been settling over her body since she got here has pride blooming in my chest for some reason. “We can listen to as many as you want.”
“Seriously?” Georgie asks, her hands going to a pile of vinyls she made in front of her crossed legs. “Because there’s like ten here that I—”
“Slow your roll, kiddo,” Ava interrupts, her palms rubbing the outsides of her arms as she pulls her legs in even closer. “It’s eight o’clock on a school night. Let’s plan on one more for tonight.”
I reach for the blanket hanging over the other side of the couch, tossing it to her. She gives me a soft smile as she covers her legs.
“What about tomorrow?” Georgie asks. Her eyes are bright as they scan the records in front of her, fanning out the pile as she considers which one she wants to listen to next.
Ava doesn't answer Georgie’s question right away, and I think back to our conversation in the kitchen.
I totally understand that Ava wants to talk to Georgie before they move in here, but they could move in tonight for all I care.
And that should worry me more than it does.
Moving in together became part of the deal the moment that we both realized this marriage had to look real if it was going to work. And I agreed to it without even hesitating—almost too quickly.
I’ve run through the logistics and the timelines of when Ava and Georgie can move in here—I have the room and the space, and I honestly wouldn’t mind the company.
Plus, with the months of scrutiny—home visits, court hearings, meetings with Patricia, constant check-ins, questions about our routines, our finances, our relationship—it has to look like we’re building a life together, one for the three of us. One that is made to last.
It can’t just look like an arrangement.
A temporary arrangement.
What I haven’t spent much time thinking about is the emotional fallout and what it means to be living with her, marrying her, for it all to end when the adoption is finalized.
“I work tomorrow, but you guys are free to come over.” The thought of Ava and Georgie coming here after a busy day for both of them has me feeling all warm and tingly inside.
Maybe it’s because it seems like Ava isn’t used to being the one taken care of, or maybe it’s the way that Georgie has been through more than anyone her age ever should be, but I want them here—and I want to be the one to cook them dinner and make sure Ava isn’t too cold, and Georgie knows how to change the record.
The thought has me realizing how invested I am in this relationship—fake relationship—and Ava has no fucking clue.
But having Ava and Georgie under my roof gives me a feeling of completeness I can’t quite put into words, least of all to Ava.
Georgie looks to Ava. She doesn’t say anything, probably trying to “play it cool” the way teenagers think they have to, but the question is in her eyes—“Can we?” written in the way she waits for Ava to say something.
Ava exhales. “We’ll see.”
Georgie looks like she wants to argue, but she must decide against it.
Shifting her attention back to me, she asks, “Can we do this one then?” She holds out my All The Right Reasons vinyl, the familiar Nickelback album cover bringing me back to my own teenage years—the classic black convertible driving down a highway at sunset was a staple on my shelf.
I take it from her, my eyes roaming the worn edges of the sleeve, the faded graphic and text from years of being one of my most listened to records, starting from when I was Georgie’s age.
I lift my brow at her, surprised—and maybe even a little impressed—that this is the one she chose to listen to as her last record of the night.
“Is that a no?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Go ahead, put it on,” I tell her, handing the vinyl to her.
“I don’t want to mess it up,” she says, shaking her head. The faint buzz of the empty platter spinning fills the silence before she adds, “You should probably just do it.” She pulls her hands back like she’s already decided she’ll get it wrong.
“You won’t,” I assure her, keeping my tone easy. I walk her through it step by step—where to hold it, how to line it up, how to lower the lever slowly.
She watches carefully, but there’s a tightness in her shoulders that doesn’t match the situation, similar to when I was showing her how to take the record from before off.
It’s just a vinyl—an old one at that. It’s nothing worth being nervous over.
Unless you’re used to little mistakes turning into big reactions.
Unless you’re used to making yourself smaller to keep the peace.
And when she quietly asks, “Like this?”, there’s something cautious about it. Not curious.
Careful. Like she’s learned that asking questions can come with consequences.
I keep my voice steady. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”
Because there’s no reason for her to be afraid of this. Not here. Not with me.
So I tack on, “Great job! You’re a natural,” wondering when was the last time her presence was not just recognized, but appreciated.
The gleam in her eyes tells me it’s been a while.
The first notes crawl out of the speakers, low and slow, that gritty guitar dragging across the room just as the drums kick in, heavier and deliberate. The low, raspy voice cuts in, the lyrics bold and unapologetic, and somehow, a perfect soundtrack to my feelings about Ava.
Thick with want, borderline obsessive, and hitting way too close to comfort.
Because she could do anything she wanted to me, anything and everything sung in the lyrics—and worse—and I’d still follow her home.
“I should’ve known you were a Nickelback fan,” Ava surmises before turning her attention to her sister. “Georgie, on the other hand, I’ve got to admit, I did not see this coming.”
Georgie shrugs. “I don’t get why they get so much hate.”
“I’m surprised you even know who they are,” I add, now not only surprised that Georgie picked this record on purpose, but that she knows about Nickelback and their reputation of being that band everyone pretends to hate.
“Me too, actually,” Ava adds, standing from the couch.
She swings the blanket I gave her around her shoulders, coming to sit between Georgie and me, having to maneuver through the scattered records.
“Wouldn’t have been my first choice,” she says as she crosses her legs under her, her knee bumping into mine.
“Say what you want, you’ll be humming these songs for the next week.”
She snorts. “Can’t argue with that.”
“So can we?” Georgie asks Ava.
Ava cocks her head. “Can we what?”
“Come over here tomorrow?”
Ava reaches out to the scattered records in front of us and begins stacking them into a neat pile, all the albums turned right side up. “I said ‘we’ll see’.”
“But what does that mean?” Georgie asks, but Ava keeps pulling records into the pile in front of her.
I watch her movements, loaded and deliberate, and she doesn’t take her eyes off what she’s doing. Each time she stacks a record, she makes sure the corners are perfectly in line. Stopping every so often to lightly tap the sides of the pile to make sure they line up.
“It means that I don’t know right now, so we’ll see tomorrow.”
“But what’s there to decide?” Georgie pushes. “Aren’t we moving in here soon anyway?”
Ava’s head snaps up. “What makes you say that?”
“That’s what you told the social worker.” She poses the words in a way that makes them sound like a question. “You told her that you guys are going to be moving in together since you’re getting married.”
Ava’s eyes dart to me before moving back to Georgie. “Is that something you’re comfortable with?” Ava asks.
She had mentioned that she still needed to talk to Georgie about this part of our whole arrangement, and I guess now is as good a time as ever.
Georgie gives a half lift of her shoulders. “I guess so.” Her tone carries that familiar boredom as the next song starts. Another rock song cuts through the silence, the gravelly lyrics circling us.
I lean over to the speaker that the record player is connected to, and lower the volume.
“Then maybe we can come over this weekend?” Ava asks Georgie, but she looks at me as she asks.
I give her a nod, the corner of my lips turning up at the thought.
“Does that work for you, George?”
“Sure,” she says with a shrug of her arms, in that teenage way that makes it seem like they don’t care—even though they do.
“Do you, I don’t know, have any questions?” Ava says with a dry laugh. I’m sure this is a conversation she never thought she’d have to have with her younger sister, and I hate that she has to.
Georgie thinks for a moment. “What about all my stuff at Mom’s?”
Ava’s lips thin, her nostrils flaring as she places another record on her neat pile.
“Of course,” she answers, but her voice is tight, like she’s trying to hide some of the frustration she seems to be holding close to her chest. “I haven’t heard from her yet, but I can stop by there when you’re at school this week. ”
Georgie nods but doesn’t say anything.
“Unless you want to come with me?”
“No,” Georgie answers quickly. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean, kiddo,” Ava says, reaching for Georgie, wrapping her arm around her shoulder, and pulling her in close underneath her blanket.
“I can help you get her stuff,” I tell Ava. “If you need.”
Ava offers me a soft smile, mouthing a “thank you” before she pulls Georgie in even tighter, the two of them communicating without words—I may not know what passed between them, but I hope one day they’ll be comfortable sharing it with me.
“Is that alright with you, G?” I ask Georgie, tapping my knuckles gently on her knee. The nickname falls from my lips as if I’ve been calling her that forever.
She looks up at me from where her head is resting on Ava’s shoulder. “That’s alright with me,” she says quietly, her lips turned in a gentle curve, her eyes glistening.
The switch to the next song on the Nickelback record transitions to a gentle strumming of a guitar, the lyrics reminiscent of a simpler time captured in a photograph.
The words speak directly to me as I find myself wishing I could take a picture of Ava and Georgie as they are now, holding each other close.
I want to remember this moment.
Because seeing the love between them has me realizing that I will do everything in my power to make sure nothing ever tears them apart.